Chapter 10 #4
It’s as simple as that. It was your parents’ fervent wish that they explain it. I honored their intention for a night. When I returned for the tour of Eastwell Park, and they admitted to telling
you nothing, I realized that it would fall to me, in the end, to say it. I never imagined that my own hesitation would set
in.”
He rocked gently, pushing against her.
“It’s no small thing,” he went on, “revealing royal blood to an unsuspecting woman. Even here, now, when I’ve actually said
the words, I regret the way it’s happened. You are unhappy. You literally jumped into a pond to escape the news.” He heard
a giggle. “You’re soaked through and freezing. I’m shoeless and my boat has drifted into a lily quagmire. Your friend was
meant to be here to offer support and Fernsby has absconded with her. You’ve only me and the marine life of this pond. I’m
so sorry.”
She dropped her head on his shoulder and Luke was hit with an unexpected wave of relief. She was overwhelmed but she did not
seem to blame him. He exhaled, enjoying the heavy rope of her wet hair sticking to his arm, the weight of her head on his
shoulder.
“At Eastwell Park,” he said, “I couldn’t find the words. And then we became . . . distracted. I took . . .” and now he exhaled
“. . . liberties, and I felt like an absolute letch. All of it has been bungled fifteen different ways—I’m bungling it still.
I can only imagine how very shocked and confused you must be.”
“It’s the disbelief. Honestly.”
“I’m not sure how to convince you other than to say the words.”
“Well, you could say more words. You could say if the Prince Regent believes me to be this . . . princess?”
“Yes, Prince George was entirely certain you are an exiled French princess.”
“He knows this Orleans family so well? He keeps a running list of exiles?”
Luke chuckled. “He has equerries to keep up with these things.”
“And when did he tell you this?”
“When I was awarded Eastwell Park for my service.” Not precisely a lie.
“What did he say about my family?” With every question, she burrowed deeper into his side.
“The details of your family were not his focus at the moment, I’m afraid.”
“If you’d not been given Eastwell Park and betrothed to me, what would’ve become of me?”
“I cannot say.”
“Would the Prince Regent have allowed me to remain with Miriam and Whittle forever?”
“I don’t know.”
She pushed off of him and stared into his face. “This is why the Prince Regent arranged the marriage, isn’t it?”
Luke blinked at her. In the back of his mind, he felt the new lie take shape—a real one. He had a decision to make. It was
like trying to leave the pub only to have his friends arrive and compel him to stay. It was so very easy to simply go along.
She made up the excuses for him, and he agreed.
“You were given Eastwell Park as a reward,” she guessed, “and I was betrothed to you because . . . because . . . I am this unclaimed French princess who’s been, in a way, languishing in everyone’s way.
Not literally in their way if I’m forgotten in the countryside, but like an annoying debt that was never squared. Not significant enough to bankrupt
anyone, but mildly dishonorable if not eventually sorted.”
Luke stared up into her beautiful face and did not contradict her. God help him, he went along, and along, and along. What a coward you are, he thought, to simply go along.
“So the prince had a national hero in need of a reward,” she guessed, “and a French princess in need of a future, and he killed
two birds with one stone by engaging us to be married and installing us in Eastwell Park? Is that it?”
And now he was compelled to contribute. “I think,” Luke said, “he wanted me settled with a local girl who had a stake in the
success of the property. I also think, in absence of available relatives, he views you as his responsibility, and he wanted
to see you settled, too.” The second lie had veins of truth. She’d made it too easy. She’d set the table before him, and now
he ate.
“I should’ve forced my parents to show me Prince George’s letter,” she said lowly, tears in her voice. “I should’ve demanded
that Miriam and Whittle tell me my personal history years ago.”
And now his arm moved of its own accord. He settled it on her shoulders and tugged. She fell against him, burying her face
against his neck.
“They were just so very haunted by any discussion of it,” she said. “And it would not have changed our circumstance. I could
not un-adopt myself, nor did I wish to do so. We were a happy family—we are happy. We are the only family I require. My devotion to them should have been enough; they could’ve told me the truth.”
She pulled away and peered at him, eyes wet, lashes spiky, hair just beginning to dry at her temple, twisting into little
curls.
Luke thought his life had been fully shattered when he’d lost his crew and his ship; when Linus had been captured. He thought
there were no smooth, unbroken surfaces remaining on the exterior of his heart. But when he looked into her face, he felt
a crack; some unknown angle was still whole, and now it crumbled and chipped. He whispered, “I’m so very sorry.”
She tipped her face. She lowered her lashes. She licked her lips. He saw her intent the moment before she pressed her mouth
to his. His heart clenched, all the broken bits crunching together, and he did not stop her.