Chapter 9
Two days later, Dani stood on the banks of the River Len with Amelia, awaiting the arrival of Captain Bannock and Lord Fernsby.
The men were due to arrive in a punting boat for an outing on the water. The sun of midweek had gone, buried by a strong,
humid wind and a surplus of clouds. The unrelenting bluster snatched handkerchiefs and swung skirts. It thrashed the silk
plants on Amelia’s hat into a tornado-like frenzy, the ribbons unfurling like tentacles.
“I see the future of your hat, Amelia,” Dani observed, “and it’s on the bottom of the river. You’ve chosen an ambitious number
of adornments for such a windy day.”
“That hat is not the problem,” said Amelia, clasping her hands in an anxious knot. “It is the activity. What was I thinking—punting
on the river? I only mentioned it once or twice, and the viscount arranged for the boat and reserved a private table for us
at the tearoom in Swanley. I haven’t the wardrobe for boating, I fear. Even so, it has long been a dream of mine, to glide
along a river with a gentleman. To take tea in a private room.”
“Never let it be said your dreams are not specific, Amelia.” Dani shielded her eyes from the wind to peer upstream.
“It will be ever so romantic,” her friend mused. “Even with the wind, and the four of us all together, it will be romantic.”
“Speaking only for myself,” said Dani, “ ‘romance’ is not the goal of today. The captain and I will be setting out plans for
a wedding. Something quick and simple. You must help with this, as it will certainly involve your father and the church.”
“In case you didn’t know it, planning a wedding is romantic, Dani. And I am at your service, of course; ‘companion and chaperone.’ ”
“Oh yes. Then there’s that.”
The notion of a chaperone was new and puzzling to Dani, but Captain Bannock had been very clear. He’d said almost nothing
in the hour after their interlude in the Eastwell Park library, but what he did prioritized a chaperone. Above all else. For
all future encounters.
“But did the captain really insist on a chaperone, Dani?” Amelia probed. “Or was it more like a suggestion? Perhaps he’s being mindful of your honor, in the end. Lord Fernsby is meticulous about propriety when he calls. My parents
have been ever so impressed.”
“If propriety is important to Captain Bannock, the change of heart came on very suddenly.”
“Oh yes, the kiss,” Amelia said on a sigh. “Tell it again, Dani. Everything. Start at the beginning and carry on through his
request for a chaperone.”
Dani thought back to the morning in the library—no great effort, considering how often she rehashed it in her mind.
“It wasn’t a kiss, Amelia,” said Dani. “Just to be clear. There was more.”
“Two kisses?”
“Attach your fertile imagination to the phrase ‘more than a kiss,’ multiply it by . . . oh, nine or ten, and that is what happened in the library.”
Amelia shot her a scandalized look and laughed. Dani shrugged and laughed, too. Amelia viewed the world through a haze of
dandelion fluff and cherry blossoms. Dani was more practical. She wasn’t without hope, but she wouldn’t believe something,
just because she wanted it. She valued clarity more than her desire. The lone exclusion to this was Miriam and Whittle and
their total lack of clarity about her heritage. It was a daydream she allowed them all.
And also what happened with Captain Bannock in the Eastwell Park library. Here was another absence of clarity. She’d read
the news reports of the captain’s sacrifice and valor. She’d reacted with sympathy and compassion, like any person with a
beating heart. He’d come upon her and seen this compassion. Instead of accepting it—or even rejecting it—he’d sort of . . .
absorbed it. His response had been raw, and visceral, and all-consuming, and it coalesced into a kiss. The combination of
her stirred-up feelings and his kiss had sparked latent desire inside of her. He’d stoked it, touching her and kissing her
senseless, and Dani had been introduced to a burning pleasure that she hadn’t known existed.
“Gloves off or on?” wondered Amelia, speaking in a whisper.
“Hmmm?”
“When he kissed you, were his hands bare? Were yours?”
“Gloves off. Hats off. He removed his jacket and his cravat.” The memory of Captain Bannock peeling off his jacket was, inexplicably,
one of the most exciting things she’d ever seen in her life.
“Dani,” breathed Amelia.
“Yes,” conceded Dani, looking down the river, “no one was more shocked than me.”
“And you were not afraid?”
“Afraid? Oh no. I was dazzled. And intrigued. Honestly, I liked it very much.”
“And that is why you agreed to marry him? On the spot?”
Dani wrinkled her nose at her friend. “Probably?” She’d asked herself this question a hundred times in the last two days.
“I consented to marry him because of the kiss,” she said, ticking off reasons, “and the promise of what might come after the
kiss. And Eastwell Park, of course. And everything I’d just read about this incredible tragedy he’d suffered with his crew
and his ship. All of that combined into a moment of resounding affirmation. For better or worse.”
“But then he became cross?”
Dani turned her face into the wind. “He wasn’t cross, he simply sort of . . . detached himself. I might not have felt it so
profoundly except for the intimacy we’d just shared. His remoteness was such a contrast to the kiss—less personal, more formal.
Not rude, simply . . . withheld. He’d been asking me about marriage for two days, and when I acquiesced, it was like I’d agreed
to join him in a business venture. It was not the rapport of a future husband and wife, but of colleagues.”
“No more kissing,” recounted Amelia.
“No more kissing, far less touching, the tour of the house ended—he claimed he needed to deliver me home immediately, despite
the fact that we’d not seen the upper floors. In the wagon, we barely spoke. And now he has this strong preference for chaperones
with absolutely no so-called private encounters.”
“He simply told you this?”
Dani took a deep breath and exhaled. “He did tell me—yes. And when we reached home, he spoke privately to Whittle.”
“About a chaperone?”
“I suppose. My parents will not discuss it except to say there are to be no more private outings until we’re properly wed.
You saw how tongue-tied they were about the betrothal on the first day? Well, now they won’t broach the topic at all.”
“Even so, Dani. You’re about to be married to a war hero and mistress of Eastwell Park. Think of it.”
“Yes,” mused Dani. “Thinking on it has been my only option, hasn’t it? I’ve not seen the captain in two days.”
“Perhaps he enjoyed kissing you so much, the very passion of it frightened him. Perhaps he fears losing control.” Amelia sounded
delightfully scandalized by this notion.
“This is a man who battled sharks and thirst and hunger to tread water for days. I hardly think someone like me can inspire
fear.”
“But he did leave town immediately after the Eastwell Park tour,” reminded Amelia.
“He went to arrange the marriage license,” said Dani. “And I was left to canvass Eastwell Park with you. And Miriam and Whittle.
Trust me, there are no hidden clues.”
“Perhaps it’s no more complicated than it seems,” said Amelia. “For your part, what could Captain Bannock do to make you feel
at peace? About the wedding?”
“Well, he’ll need the license,” said Dani, “first things first.”
“Yes, you mentioned that he’s sorted the license.”
“And I must have some understanding about why I was chosen for this betrothal by the Prince Regent. Why not you? Why not Margaret
Wells?”
“First of all, Margaret Wells is far too young for the captain, I don’t care what Lord Fernsby says.”
“Wait. What says Lord Fernsby?”
Amelia continued as if she hadn’t heard. “And I am not known throughout the village for my civic engagement, am I? I’ve not
collected grants for the parish hall. Your reputation in the town precedes you, Dani. Ask anyone.”
“I assure you if the Prince Regent had been asked, he would not know of my civic engagement. I’m doubtful he can locate Ivy
Hill on a map.”
Amelia gasped. “Never say it.”
Dani sighed. “Look, at the very least, I must know if Captain Bannock intends to be a proper landlord or return to sea. If
he intends to return to sailing, how often? And I cannot tolerate this new aloofness. Everyone has a bad day, but if his detachment
persists, I’m not sure I can move forward. I’ve no desire to spend every day making wild guesses about his regard for me.”
Amelia was nodding sagely. “Today will bring so many answers—you’ll see. He’s had time to gather his thoughts and reflect
on your encounter in the library. He’ll be prepared to discuss all of it.”
“On a punting boat,” observed Dani. “With Lord Fernsby on the next seat. And you. What could go wrong?”
“Oh, never you fear about the viscount and me,” assured Amelia. “We’ll not interfere. When we are together, we are lost to
the world around us. You will scarcely know we’re there.”
“Well,” said Dani, “that makes two of you.”
Amelia Broom had been consumed by her surprise courtship with Lord Fernsby.
For hours, Dani had listened to every detail—and happily so.
Lord Fernsby was an earnest and effusive suitor and Amelia welcomed the attention.
Meanwhile, Dani’s union to Captain Bannock made no sense.
He was the fiancé she did not want but offered the future that she did want.
He was a troubling combination of alluring criminal and begrudging landlord.
And he’d introduced her to a wild, raw passion, only to pull away with no explanation.
“Oh, look, there they are!” exclaimed Amelia. She waved to a boat easing its way under the footbridge. Captain Bannock and
Lord Fernsby could be seen ducking their heads to clear the overhang.
“So they are,” mumbled Dani. On cue, her stomach flipped at the sight of him. “So they are.”
“Fernsby—no,” bit out Luke, stabbing the punting pole into the mush at the bottom of the river.