Chapter 6
Captain Bannock called the next morning to escort Danielle to Eastwell Park. He arrived ten minutes ahead of schedule, and
Dani and Amelia waited in the corridor while Miriam and Whittle received him.
“Oh Dani, look how masculine,” Amelia whispered, peeking around the corner. “He suits you, do you know it? He is handsome—but
we knew this because of the broadsheet illustrations. What the papers did not show is the sort of danger in his bearing? You
are beautiful, obviously, but also fearless. Do you see how he suits you?”
“I regret this yellow dress,” Dani said. “I do not look fearless, I look like a child.”
“From where I sat yesterday,” Amelia said, “the captain is unbothered by your youth.”
Her friend had arrived an hour earlier to help her dress for the outing. Dani wanted to appear smart and attractive but also
to be taken seriously. For a reason now unclear, they’d chosen the yellow.
“And so nothing?” Captain Bannock could be heard asking her parents. “Her understanding remains the very same?”
“What are they saying?” Dani whispered to Amelia. “They promised to discuss the weather and everyone’s good health and nothing more.”
Miriam and Whittle were hovering in the doorway, tutting and wringing hands and shaking heads.
“Enough,” she told Amelia. “I agreed to keep hidden for five minutes, and that’s come and gone.”
Dani was so very protective of her parents, she would not have them agitated. Yesterday, when she’d returned from her walk
with Captain Bannock, Miriam and Whittle were pacing the floor, driven nearly to madness with worry. Dani had planned to interrogate
them about the betrothal, but they’d been so distressed, she bade them retire for a midday nap instead. She’d prepared a lovely
luncheon, and they’d devoted the rest of the day to talking about a far more beguiling topic: Eastwell Park.
It had not been a hardship. Since the moment Captain Bannock named the house as his reward, Dani had thought of little else.
The opportunities of a fully occupied Eastwell Park could very well save the village. And its ancient beauty would not sink
into ruin. As its mistress, she could shower resources on the town and not fight old men on the town council or Mr. Stinchcomb
to do it. By bedtime, the prospect of marrying Captain Lucas Bannock seemed . . . if not coveted, then possible. She would
marry just about anyone to gain a stake in Eastwell Park.
She would not, however, marry the captain without knowing why she’d been chosen as his bride. And by the Prince Regent, no
less. This had been conspicuously unexplained yesterday—but no more. She fixed a smile on her face and made her way to him.
If her parents were too frail to answer her questions, she would pose them to the captain instead.
“Ah here she is,” said Whittle, turning from the captain to beckon Dani to the stoop. “But will Amelia join you on your tour of Eastwell Park?”
“Oh yes, certainly she will,” assured Miriam, speaking for everyone.
“Amelia has a caller, due in an hour,” Dani reminded her mother. Viscount Fernsby, Captain Bannock’s friend, had been so taken
with Amelia, he’d requested to call.
“Surely not,” denied Miriam, with forced cheerfulness. “But you cannot go with Captain Bannock unchaperoned, Dani.”
Danielle glanced at the captain and their gazes locked. He raised a playful eyebrow. Without warning, the muscles in her stomach
did the oddest thing, they affected a fence-jumping little flip. Dani blinked.
“Now, now, Miri,” soothed Whittle, “they’ll go only as far as Eastwell Park and back. This is a sturdy wagon, I trust; safe,
open to God and everyone.”
“I’ll return her in one piece,” said Captain Bannock blandly. “Never you fear.”
Everyone turned. Her parents stared at him with a mixture of fear and awe. Amelia beamed. Dani felt suddenly, inexplicably
bashful. He took their awkwardness in stride; neither indulging their anxiety nor being obtuse. He was, Dani thought, cordially unbothered. All the while Miriam’s cats circled his boots like fish in a pond, the least bothered of all.
Seeing him again up close, Dani was reminded that he was every inch a man; fully grown, masculine and rugged, just as Amelia had said.
He did not twitch or fidget; he navigated the small, overgrown garden with an economy of movement.
It’d been the same the day before. She’d made a careful study of him on their walk, asking herself a series of questions about how she might manage life married to a stranger.
Could she, for example, be trapped in a cramped room in a drafty inn with him?
Could she share the last bite of something delicious with him?
Could she encounter him first thing in the morning, when she wanted only silence and coffee?
Possibly? she’d thought. Today the answer seemed more like, Probably. Also today, other scenarios occurred to her, situations that were not trials but delights: sunsets, and snowy evenings, and
swimming in the river. Would Captain Bannock enhance these situations or intrude?
At the moment, she did not feel intruded upon. At the moment, she felt very glad she was to see him again. He gave her a slight smile and bowed sharply. She was unprepared for the gallantry
of that gesture, and her stomach flipped again. She’d gone from no gentleman callers to being fetched in a wagon by a ruggedly
handsome sea captain, all in the length of a night and day.
“How do you do today, Miss Allard?” he asked. His voice was even, neither enthusiastic nor flat. He was so very calm. Not
calm like sleepy or disinterested; calm as in steady. She liked it; she liked it very much.
Dani kissed her parents, waved to Amelia, and turned to the small wagon. Two horses stood ready, flicking tails and stamping
hooves. Only when Captain Bannock held out his arm to her did she falter. She’d traversed the length of her garden without
the assistance of a man for more than twenty years. Was it odd, now, to pass the same steps linking arms with this person?
“Shall we?” he said softly.
Dani glanced over her shoulder at Amelia. Her friend was nodding. Yes, that’s right, take his arm.
Dani looked at her parents. Miriam appeared to be on the brink of another protestation. Dani dropped her arm on the captain’s. The point was not to be assisted, the point was to touch him.
How solid he felt against her side, like she walked along a stone wall. When her hand grazed his, he clasped her fingers in
the crook of his thumb, the tiniest little act of possession. Her stomach—now clearly an entity with a mind of its own—flipped
again.
“My apologies for this wagon, Miss Allard,” he was saying. “There are limited vehicles for hire in Ivy Hill.”
“I’m not surprised. Ivy Hill has become a deserted outpost.”
Kittens tumbled from the pathway and the tomcat called Lymond jumped from the wagon bed. Captain Bannock gently slid free
of her grasp to pull out a step.
“Up you go,” he said, taking up her left hand and settling his palm on the small of her back. “How many cats have you, Miss
Allard?”
“They’re Miriam’s cats,” she told him, absorbing the curious jolt she felt at the contact of his hand on her back. “There
are seventeen, I believe. At the moment.”
“Mrs. Dinwiddie will know, I presume, when the optimum amount has been reached?”
“Of cats?”
“Yes.”
Dani shrugged. “After three or four, it makes no difference if you toss another one onto the pile.”
He snickered and the flipping in her stomach sailed again.
“Do you know the way?” he asked, hefting himself into the seat beside her and taking up the reins.
“Oh yes, do you?”
“I was given the general idea,” he said. “Hold on. This may be a wagon, but the horses are young and bored, and I made good time from the inn.”
He called to the horses and the pair set off, pitching her forward. Dani laughed and held one hand to her hat and another
to the seat.
“Careful,” he said, speaking over the rumble of the wheels. “If you slide closer and lean against me, you’ll be less jostled.”
Dani thought of her lifetime on wagon seats and, in fact, on galloping horses. She’d survived all manner of jostling with
no assistance whatsoever. Here again, the point was less about balance and more about the opportunity to touch him. She had
liked touching his arm and she’d liked being handed into the wagon. With each bit of him she touched, she was curious about
more touching.
“Yes, alright,” she said, sliding down the bench to close the space between them. There was less jostling when she wedged against him, but the stability was second to how very vital he felt. And strong. And solid.
Also limber and athletic. He wore tight breeches, and they molded to his thighs when he braced his boot against the toe board.
His arm bussed up against her shoulder, and she could feel his bicep flex as he handled the reins. Never before had she considered
where everyone’s hands settled, or their hips bounced, or their arms went, but his outline against her side had become the
most fascinating aspect of this wagon, except that it conveyed her to the house of her dreams.
“Your parents . . .” he said, casually. “They seem to be almost—ah . . . What’s the word? ‘Debilitated’—at the thought of
marrying you off.”
“Oh yes. Actually, they’re coming to terms with the fact that I may marry. Panic sets in when we broach family ties. They are proprietary about my being their daughter. But the nature of this betrothal means someone else is making decisions
about my future, isn’t it? I’ve asked them how it all fits together, but they become distressed—or debilitated, as you say—and
I indulge their anxiety. Round and round we go.”
“So they’ve said nothing about the letter from St. James’s Palace since yesterday? Nothing at all?”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t worth the anguish. Eastwell Park is a far safer topic, and we wanted to daydream, so we talked
about the estate instead.”