Chapter 19 #4
“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—and then I 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’t like anything 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, so I tried . . . only to discover that—coward that I am—I could 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 suddenly I was emotionally involved somehow. I tried not to be—God knows I tried.”
A small, painful notch in the broken bone of her heart pulsed.
“And every minute,” he went on, “I was aware that my father was growing older and sicker in a dungeon. So I kept thinking,
if we could simply set a date for the wedding, if we could become legally wed. When the ceremony was set, then I would tell you. At the last minute. I would tell you with enough time for you to say no. Meanwhile, I was also hoping you’d
grow attached to the house. I wanted you to love Eastwell Park enough to make it an irresistible incentive, one you could
not resist.” He turned away. “A smuggler through and through. It was always a shite plan.”
“Yes,” she said, “it was.”
“I’m sorry, Princess.”
“I would have helped you,” she said, her voice flat. “If only you’d told me, I would have helped you.”
He stared at her, looking guilty and defeated and miserable. Dani turned away. She strode up the path. The maze was a green
blur through her tears.
“How do we get out of this?” she asked.
“It’s left, I think.”
She turned left at the next gap. A frond of shrubbery lashed her head, catching a spire of the crown. She let out a frustrated
shout and reached up to tear the thing from her head. It came loose in a rain of hairpins. Her bun dissolved and hair fell
over her face. She shoved it back.
“Is this real?” she asked, holding out the crown. She came to another gap in the hedge and ducked through. Looking right and
left, she saw open grass ahead. She trudged toward it.
“Real?” he asked.
“Did it belong to the family of my birth? Was it sent by St. James’s Palace? An heirloom?”
“No,” he said. “You had so little from France, and this pained me. I arranged for it. It is a gift. You may keep it. Everything is my gift to you, Danielle. The house, the land, the crown, the sapphire ring. You have earned all of it for your trouble. We’ll annul the marriage, obviously.
In a year, this can all be a distant memory.
You’ll be mistress of Eastwell Park. You will have your sister and brother in your life.
Please, do me this one mercy—undeserved, I know, but please—accept these gifts and move ahead with your life. ”
“An estate, and a crown, and a long-lost family. That’s quite a consolation prize. What a fool I’d be not to scoop it up gratefully.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“May I inquire, have you ever thought of asking me what I want?”
“I— I don’t suppose I have.”
“Well. Perhaps you are a coward after all.”