Chapter 16
“Hello,” said the man who could only be Killian Crewes. He met Luke on the path to the cemetery. They stood in the shade of
a plane tree, politely judging each other.
“How do you do,” said Luke. “Luke Bannock.” He held out his hand.
“The devil you say,” Killian Crewes said slowly, shaking firmly. “Captain Luke Bannock. The man who swam in open seas for
three days, holding the prince’s cousin.”
“It was more like one full day and two half days,” Luke said.
“We’d heard it was you, marrying Elise’s sister,” said Killian Crewes, “but, honestly, the match made so little sense. And
now look.” He glanced around the churchyard again. “I stand corrected. Thank you for your service, obviously. And congratulations—also
obviously. I’m sorry we’ve descended on your wedding like locusts. My wife was immensely motivated to see her baby sister—although
a young woman, now, I suppose. We got word of her whereabouts, and Elise insisted we set out immediately. She has been searching
for Danielle for twenty years.”
“Has she been?” said Luke, buoyed, despite his discomfort. If Elise d’Orleans had searched for Danielle, she hadn’t been forgotten, she’d simply been lost.
“Indeed,” said Killian Crewes. “We only just made the acquaintance of a third Orleans sibling two years ago—a brother called
Prince Gabriel—but the younger sister, Danielle, evaded us until this very moment. My wife has been overjoyed at the prospect,
especially if Danielle is well and happy, which I assume she is, considering someone has bothered to engage her to a national
hero and arranged a wedding in this storybook village.”
“Yes,” Luke managed. Panic made a clanging noise inside his head. The arrival of the Crewes family meant Princess Danielle
was no longer the ward of two pensioners from a tiny village in Kent. The arrival of the Crewes family meant she was the sister
of a royal princess, and the sister-in-law of a wealthy London property developer. If the Crewes family was well-meaning and
protective—which everything about this conversation suggested that they were—they would question this union, they would question
him. They would forbid it.
Even if Luke managed to reach Princess Danielle before the ceremony and tell her his real intentions and motivations, her
decision to help or not help would be influenced by her new family.
And Eastwell Park as incentive would not matter. Her new sister could set up Danielle in some other manor house. Luke’s plan—his
under-thought, self-serving, shite plan—was doomed.
The memory of Linus Welty—his bad leg, his failing eyesight, his advanced age—dropped into Luke’s mind like a sack of bones.
No one was suited for prison, but Welty—my God.
He was seventy-five years old, with gout and lung fever.
His nature was gentle and easy. He’d saved Luke in every way there was to be saved—fed him, clothed him, taught him shipbuilding and sailing, had been his friend and guardian.
Luke loved him like a father, and he would not, could not, allow him to die alone in a French prison.
“We’ve invaded your wedding like a Viking raid, I fear,” Killian Crewes was saying. “My daughters are small but loud and numerous.
I wish I had a better explanation for why we travel with a nun, but I don’t. That’s Sister Marie, and she’s sworn a life oath
to protect my wife. I cannot convince her to allow me to give it a go. Also, she’s rather helpful to have nearby. The young
man is my nephew, Lord Bartholomew. As far as life oaths go, I suppose you could say I’ve sworn my own oath to protect him.
The dog, well . . .”
Crewes rambled, but he also eyed Luke with the shrewdness of someone who was not easily fooled. Luke only pretended to listen;
in his head and heart, he had to decide. Abandon everything now—walk away from this girl and these people and try again to
rescue Welty on his own . . . Or carry on with the wedding, marry her, and then tell her how the union came to be.
The first plan saw Princess Danielle deserted at the altar—left with her surrogates and her new family but an absent bridegroom.
The second plan meant she’d have her wedding; but afterward, hear the truth about how it came to be. Luke would endure her
wrath, and the wrath of her family, new and old, but then he would walk away.
If he married her and told her his story afterward, at least he could look her in the eye and explain. He could give her the
keys to Eastwell Park and apologize.
Either way, he would not involve her in the rescue.
He would set out for France alone and try again to recover Welty.
Again. And again. For however long it took.
Bloody hell, why hadn’t he already found a way to tell her?
This poor woman. So many secrets. He’d shown her the fossil that Luke kept to remind him of Linus but failed to tell her the man was in peril.
He simply . . . hadn’t been able to find the words.
After every other thing that she’d learned.
He’d always thought there would be more time.
“How did you make the acquaintance of Danielle Allard d’Orleans?” Killian Crewes was asking. “Despite hundreds of pounds spent
on investigators, we know so little. We only found her this week because the man you hired was poking around, asking questions
about Elise.”
Luke looked at Killian Crewes. His question was cordial but his eyes dared Luke to lie.
Luke glanced at the milling wedding guests—members of the community that Danielle loved so much. They’d come to celebrate
her special day, just as she’d planned. He looked at the church, and the parish house, and the idyllic town of Ivy Hill.
As much as Luke wanted to run, he could not leave before the wedding. Not within five minutes of the ceremony. He must carry
on with the marriage, and then he would tell her. When she calmed down, he would give her the house and promise an annulment. After that, he would run. This saved her the public humiliation of being left at the altar; and she would have her new family to help
her recover. In time, after she’d established herself as the beloved mistress of Eastwell Park, she could announce the annulment.
By then, no one would be shocked that the marriage dissolved. It would be his fault; an absentee husband, seduced by a return
to the sea.
But he would not be absentee now. Now there was no other choice but to carry on with the ceremony and feast.
“Prince George arranged it,” Luke lied to his future brother-in-law. “I was rewarded for my service with an estate in the
area. And then he piled on, killing two birds with one stone. He saw an opportunity to, in a way, relieve the English court
of their last French exile by marrying her off to the new landlord, newly arrived in town.”
“Really?” asked Killian Crewes. He made no effort to hide his incredulity.
Luke was just about to lie again, but Fernsby rushed up. “It’s time, Bannock,” he called. “Vicar Broom would have us convene
beside the nave.” He tipped his hat at Killian Crewes.
“Is that Jamie Roundhouse?” asked Mr. Crewes. “All grown up?”
Fernsby squinted at the man and then said, “Killian Crewes? Well hello, sir. How do you do? It’s been an age, hasn’t it?”
“I’ll say,” said Killian Crewes. “I read that you were the royal cousin rescued by Captain Bannock—and now here you are. And
a viscount to boot. Fernsby, is it? But are you standing up for the captain?”
“I am indeed, if I can get him to the church on time.” Fernsby gave a wink.
Luke looked back and forth between the viscount and Killian Crewes.
“I made the acquaintance of Mr. Crewes on visits to St. James’s Palace in my youth,” Fernsby explained.
“Old friends, then,” Luke muttered. When they were alone, he would ask Fernsby more about the man.
“I was always fond of you, Jamie,” Mr. Crewes said. “One of the good ones. I was gratified you survived. A credit to Captain Bannock, to be sure.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Fernsby.
“Well, off you go,” said Killian Crewes. “I’ve not been told if we’re staying, or going, or pressing on to Guernsey and the
home of Elise’s brother. I serve at the pleasure of my wife and daughters.”
“There’s a good man,” said Fernsby on a laugh. “Well, you’ll excuse us while I haul this bridegroom to the altar. I hope to
see you again, Mr. Crewes.”
“Likewise, Jamie—er, Fernsby,” Killian Crewes called, watching Luke follow the viscount away. “Likewise.”