“We were on the little beach after I fell into the pond,” she said, “and you showed me the fossil that is your keepsake in honor of your surrogate father. Was that real?”
“Of course it was real,” he said, spinning back. He patted his waistcoat, searching for the pocket. He pulled the fossil out. “I lied by omission, Princess, I did not misrepresent facts about myself. I revealed things to you I’ve never before told anyone else.”
“If the facts are true and you shared them with only me, why not tell me the whole story? On the beach, why not say everything?”
Now he shook his head. “No. I couldn’t. The timing was wrong. You’d absorbed so much that morning.”
“What is timing when there are truths to be revealed?”
“I couldn’t bear more unhappiness for you, Danielle,” he said, his voice forceful. “I didn’t want to lose—”
He stopped. He shook his head. Heart pounding, Danielle waited.
“I didn’t want to lose the accord that we had,” he finally said. “And I didn’t think you should absorb more secrets that day. Not after you’d just learned of your own long-lost bloody royal family. I used my best judgment in the moment. Please believe me. Right or wrong. I meant to protect you.”
“You meant to protect me,” she repeated quietly, hoping they both could hear the wrong-mindedness, the unfairness.
He took a deep breath. He held his hands high like a man in surrender. “I can promise you now, there is nothing more to say—no more secrets. For what it’s worth. That is the entire tale, the complete lie; every player and motivation revealed. I’ve bungled it terribly. And my handling of it only got worse, the longer I remained in Kent. My God, you cannot imagine the relief in saying it. Do your worst, Princess. I deserve it. Whatever it is.”
Dani regarded him, flushed, hatless, with grass stuck to his boots. He was pulling off his gloves. Well, she thought, she was notnotsympathetic. She understood that a parent in danger would be horrifying—but Captain Luke Bannock was a large, capable man; rich; a sea captain; he’d eviscerated Mr. Stinchcomb in a thirty-second conversation. Was she to believe theonlyway to recover this father figure was tomarry her?
She would not be distracted by his obvious distress. Because, honestly, what of her distress? What of... what of...
Dani turned her emotions over in her mind, looking for raw spots that still seethed and burned. Her anger would not be cooled by this eleventh-hour admission nor his heart-wrenching facts. He’d made her his wife, for God’s sake.Married.
And he’d made no declaration. Most hurtful of all. His only stated regard for her was regret. For a moment, she’d thought he would say he didn’t want to lose her, but he’d stopped himself. He’d said he did not want to lose their “accord.” It was no declaration at all.
Well, any accord was now in shambles. And she couldn’t stay here and witness his incredible regret. It tempted her compassion, and any compassion toward him in this moment made her doubt her own sanity. She shoved past him and blazed up the path, kicking his hat out of the way.
“I was going to tell you before the wedding,” she heard him call. She kept walking.
“Truly,” he went on, striding behind her. “I meant to give you the crown and tell you everything. When you knew what was at stake—that I needed this favor to recover my old friend—I meant to give you the choice: Marry me in name only, help me with Surcouf, and then we would annul the thing. I would go, and you could carry on with your life. Untouched. With Eastwell Park as payment. Or, you could do nothing,notmarry me, and still I would’ve given you Eastwell Park. That is what I meant to do.”
He never really wanted to marry me at all.This thought popped in her mind like the break of a bone. A broken bone was not deadly, but it still hurt. And the affected arm or leg was never the same.
“But then your sister arrived,” he went on. “They descended on the church in the precise moment I was coming to give you this choice. And it was too late to do anything but see the wedding through. I would not leave you at the altar. I would not distress you in front of your family, new and old. I would do the thing, and then I would tell you—that is what I’m doing now—andthenI would give you Eastwell Park. I knew you would be furious—and rightly so—and now I will walk away.”
“And what of your surrogate father?” she heard herself ask.
“I will find another way. I will return to France. I will muster some... recovery team made of soldiers-for-hire. I will, perhaps, kill Vincent Surcouf. God knows he deserves it.”
She stopped walking. She turned around. They stood face-to-face. She was beginning to realize his lies were not like a broken bone, they weren’tlikeanything at all. They broke her heart. Sadness closed in, a mist rising. He viewed her in terms of her choice—to help or not to help with his mission. There was no thought of his regard for her as a woman. As a wife. As a lover.
“I should never have involved you, Princess,” he admitted. “It was stupid and, honestly, cruel. I did not think of you as a living, breathing person who might want some say in the matter. I... I know almost nothing of marriage; I’ve yet to encounter a couple who’s made a successful go of it. I personally had no intention of ever marrying in my life. That’s no excuse, but I simply didn’t consider how an arranged marriage with a built-in annulment might... implode.”
Why did you think you would never marry?The question swung between them like a bouquet that no one would catch. She ignored it. She let it fall. What use had she for flying bouquets or his view on marriage?
“After we became acquainted,” she asked, “did you think I’d be unfeeling toward the figure of a father in a dungeon? Did you think I lacked the spirit or grit for your rescue mission? I asked you so many times how the betrothal came to be.” Her voice broke. “Do I come across as someone who cannot understand complicated situations and high stakes?”
“Each time we were together, there seemed to be some new part of your life that had somehow become my responsibility to explain. I had no idea I’d arrive in Kent to find a princess who was entirely unaware that she’s a member of the French royal family. I spoke to your parents privately about it, and they promised to reveal this to you, but then they could not. Alright, fine, they couldn’t do it, soItried... only to discover that—coward that I am—Icould not. Or I couldn’t for a time. Instead, I told you things that don’t matter: I admitted making my fortune as a smuggler.”
“Is that even true?”
A bitter laugh. “Yes, of course. The truest thing is that I’m a bloody smuggler. Don’t you see my methods? I hoped to, in essence, smuggle you from England and then smuggle Linus out of France.” He gave his lapels an angry jerk.
“I told you I’d been given this grand house,” he went on. “Next I revealed that you’re actually French. Finally: you’re royalty. After that: you have a sister.
“Each and every revelation meant a significant change in the way you viewed yourself and the world around you,” he said. “Well, maybe not my smuggling history, but it felt important to tell you that I am... not destitute. I can provide for you. What I’m trying to say is each new piece was an emotional trial for you. And... and then suddenlyIwas emotionally involved somehow. I tried not to be—God knows I tried.”
