She kept going. The path curved and she followed the arc, holding her skirts high.
“Do you remember when you asked why Prince George arranged for me to be married to you?” he called. “Toyouin particular?”
Dani stopped.Do I remember...?She sagged against the hedge.Do I remember?How many times had she asked this?
“Of course I remember,” she said. She’d backed against the unruly hedge; sticks and thorns jabbed her like pins in a pincushion, but she didn’t care. “You said he wanted to match you with a local girl with a stake in the success of your new estate. You said he wanted to see the errant French princess settled.”
“There was another reason,” he said, coming up to her. “And I failed to say it to you. But I am prepared to tell you now. If you will hear it.”
“You’re prepared to tell me?”
“Yes.”
She fell silent. She waited. She raised her eyebrows.What?
He said nothing. He stared at the ground, a bitter look on his face. A muscle in his jaw pulsed. He looked like he’d been ordered to drink a dram of poison.
“The longer you do not say it,” she whispered, “the more horrible I think it will be.”
“Sorry.” He took a deep breath. He removed his hat. He put one hand on the back of his head. He was breathing hard.
“Bannock?” This was horrible—whatever it was must be horrible.
“The reason we were betrothed,” he bit out, “is because I asked for it to be done. I asked to have the marriage arranged. To you. Or rather, I asked to marry the exiled princess from France, who is you. It was my primary request when I was granted a reward for rescuing Viscount Fernsby. I was also awarded Eastwell Park, but that was the prince’s idea, which I accepted.”
Dani sagged against the prickly hedge and gaped at him. His words wound their way through her mind like she’d run through this maze. She was lost.
“Why, Bannock?” she asked. “Why did you ask to have the marriage arranged? Whyme? Or, as you’ve clarified—why the exiled French princess? Why?”
“Are you alright?” he asked, frowning at the unpruned hedge holding her upright. “Will you—?”
“Why?”she demanded.
He cleared his throat. “On the night my boat was sunk and my crew killed or captured, the French captain leading the attack asked about you. By name. Again and again, he asked about Princess Danielle Allard d’Orleans. He made threats and demands, insisting that we tell him where the English royal family had hidden the exile, Princess Danielle d’Orleans. He beat Fernsby senseless, trying to get him to reveal your location. Of course we’d never heard of you; we knew nothing of princesses or French exiles in England.” He exhaled. His expression was barely concealed misery.
“As the night wore on,” he continued, “my crew tortured, Fernsby tortured, I— Well, I managed to survive, didn’t I? You know the next bit. I fished Fernsby from the water before he drowned. We floated for two nights and then were recovered by the Royal Navy. When, finally, I made it back to England and recovered, I began to research the princess that the French captain had asked about again and again. I began to researchyou. I needed to know why this French naval officer was obsessed with a princess hidden in England. And what I discovered was—is—the captain was not simply an officer in the French Navy, he’s also a member of the French aristocracy—the Comte d’Moulac—and his family lands border property belonging to the Orleans family. Those lands, I learned, are part of your dowry. When you marry, your husband will receive significant acreage, timber, and a length of river in the Hauts-de-France region of France. Surcouf wanted to find you so he could pluck you from exile, marry you, and claim these lands. Surcouf’s existing estate has dwindled—overtaken and reclaimed during the Terror. Marrying you and receiving your land as dowry would return him to majority landowner in the region.”
Dani could but stare at him. It wasn’t just one thing—there was somuchhe hadn’t said to her. He’d lied about why, and who, and how much. And it wasn’t over.
“Go on,” she managed, sinking deeper into the hedge.
“This man has become my sworn enemy. He attacked a ship I built by my own hand, he ignored every rule of engagement and tortured my men. He captured a man on board who is like a father to me. I’ve mentioned this man, Linus Welty. The man who raised me. Surcouf would’ve taken my life if I hadn’t been too stubborn to die—Fernsby’s, too. Now I am safely in England, and he has returned to France, but with my surrogate father as his captive. And I want the old man safely returned. For the better part of a year I have begged and bartered—I’ve mounted nighttime raids and tried to steal Welty back. But I have failed. Surcouf refuses to negotiate—not for money, not by threats. The dungeon—for there is no better word for it—where Welty is being held is impenetrable. Please believe me when I say there is no hyperbole here. This is what has happened—my motivation for all of it.” He exhaled. “The reason I wanted to marry you is—well,was—because the Frenchman wanted to marry you. This French captain. You were the thing he wanted the most, so I endeavored to have you, so that he could not.”
“You married me out of spite?” Her words were barely audible.
“Well—no. Yes. No, not entirely. There’s more.”
“You’ve just said that was your motivation for all of it,” she cried.
“I mean to fill in the details. But will you allow me to extricate you from that hedge? You’re spoiling your beautiful gown.”
“Finish,”she demanded.
He swallowed hard. “As I’ve said, the captured man, Linus Welty, was...” and here he faltered, “...isvery dear. He raised me from the age of seven, educated me, protected me. I built my boat only because he taught me. I captained that boat because he taught me to sail. He’s not in good health; seventy-five years old, with poor eyesight and a bad hip. His lungs are weak. He has a myriad of health problems. Every voyage, I implore him to stay behind, but he prefers to sail. He’s a grown man and, selfishly, I enjoy having him with me—and so where I have gone, so has he.
“On the night of the attack,” he said, “after the fighting was underway, it became obvious that Surcouf had the advantage and that things were rapidly going to hell. I extricated myself from the fighting and went to Linus, begging him to surrender. He was too old and feeble to fight, and there was a chance Surcouf would have mercy on an elderly man who submitted. By some miracle, Linus complied, and—unlike the rest of the crew—his life was spared. There was no torture; the French sailors simply took him prisoner. And,” Bannock finished, “a prisoner he remains. To this day. Assuming he’s still alive. He’s being held captive in the dungeon of Surcouf’s crumbling French castle. For six months, I’ve endeavored to negotiate with Surcouf for the return of this old man. The blaggard will not make a deal. And, because England is at war with France, it is extremely difficult for me to travel inside France to endeavor to rescue him myself. And even when I am in France, the castle is formidable. Surcouf is a military man in addition to being a comte, and his home is, literally, a fortress. The War Office will not help me recover Welty—they’ll not risk resources to rescue one old man who wasn’t even a solider at the time of the attack.
“Considering all of these closed avenues to recovery, I knew only one thing for certain. Surcouf wanted the dowry attached to Princess Danielle Allard d’Orleans—that is, I knew he wanted you. He wanted your dowry. So, my plan was to marry you, claim your dowry, and try again to negotiate. This time, coming to the bargaining table with something he could not refuse.”
