Chapter 24 #2
she jumped, craning around. She’d hoped to exude a sort of regal aloofness; instead she was jittery and wide-eyed, searching
every face for Luke.
Luke.
Greater than her fear or nerves, greater than her desire to face off with Surcouf, was her desire to reach him. To clap eyes on him and hold him. She wanted to tell him that she loved him.
Her feelings since he’d left her in Kent had evolved from hurt and resentment to something like desperation. And love—desperate
love. Oh, she’d missed him all along, and for weeks couldn’t distinguish heartsickness from frustration. Then his letters
began to arrive. His tone was so conciliatory, so contrite. She’d not expected how very chatty he would be. Honestly, she’d
not expected him to write at all. The letters kept coming, each one more lovely than the last; and then the note had arrived
from his mother. Dani had asked for an explanation and been shocked when he’d given one.
After the letter that so openly described his boyhood, Dani began to draw parallels between Luke’s inability to ask for help
and the years of denials that had come from his mother. By the time his last letter came, she was consumed with sympathy for
him, with longing, with love. And now here she was, on the brink of seeing him and bringing him home. The anticipation in
her chest felt like unopened champagne, the bottle newly shaken, a thumb on the cork.
“Look alive,” Killian whispered suddenly. “We’re up next.”
Dani nodded and squared her shoulders. The group ahead of them was ushered inside and a liveried official beckoned them to the small bridge over a moat.
Lord Fernsby, playing the role of Killian’s aide-de-camp, spoke to the servant.
The man referenced a list on curling parchment.
In flawless French, Lord Fernsby introduced Killian’s faux name and rank.
Then he introduced his own faux name and also Dani’s brother’s, suggesting that they were members of Killian’s staff.
While the man searched his list for their names, Fernsby extended a gloved hand to Dani and proclaimed, “And may I present, Her Serene Highness, Princess Danielle Allard d’Orleans, accompanied by her chaperone, Sister Marie Rivier of the Visitation Sisters. ”
Slowly, the man in the livery looked up from his list. He squinted into the torchlight, scrutinizing the group with fresh
interest. Killian had told them to expect anything from fawning shock to suspicion when Fernsby announced the princess. Whatever
the response, Killian had warned them not to waver from their assigned roles. Dani would project regality. Sister Marie would
be her stern attendant. The men were impatient French officers. Half the battle of a false identity, Killian had said, was
commitment.
“Step forward, if you please,” the official asked Dani in French.
“You will use the proper address when you speak to the princess,” Marie snapped. She positioned herself in front of Dani as
if to protect her from the man’s impertinence. “You will bow and make any request with proper deference.”
The man gaped at Marie. The nun returned his gaze with resolve and a hint of challenge.
“Forgive me,” said the official, “but I do not see the princess on the list of guests.”
Marie and Fernsby said nothing, staring at the official as if this was his problem to solve.
Nearby, a footman hovered with a lantern. The official summoned the man to hold the light to his list. The two servants conversed
in low tones.
Finally, Fernsby said, “Does your hesitation mean that the Comte d’Moulac does not welcome a princess of the blood from the house of d’Orleans?
She’s only recently left exile, thanks be to God.
She’s home at last. This ball is to be her first foray into French society.
Her attendance is an honor, I assure you, to the Comte d’Moulac. ”
If no one else, the footman with the lantern was convinced. He swung the light, searching Dani’s face in dazzlement. She fought
the urge to give the man a friendly smile, but smiling at footmen was not part of the act. She raised her chin, glanced at
him with impatient hauteur, and looked away.
“If you please,” Sister Marie said impatiently, “I should like to get Her Serene Highness out of this night air.”
The official nodded, on the verge of making some ruling, but the footman with the lantern was ahead of him. He stepped out
of the way and lit the path with his lantern. Lord Fernsby seized the opportunity and strode over the moat. Marie nudged Dani
forward, and their group swept across the bridge and into the doors of Chateau d’Oiron.
The scene inside was so disorienting that Dani fought the urge to cover her ears.
Music and laughter echoed off stone walls.
Courtiers huddled in groups or wound their way through the crowd in a chain, hands clasped.
When they encountered one another, they gave a shout and fell together in fawning embraces.
Jeweled headpieces winked in the candlelight, crystal glasses sloshed champagne, and women swayed to the strains of music.
Dani took it all in, her eyes wide. The women looked like tropical birds from the pages of a book, every species represented.
A veritable army of uniformed men suffused the crowd in blue, gray, or scarlet.
Their chests jangled with medals and their hats fluttered with ostrich plumes.
Forgetting the pageantry, Dani had never seen so many people assembled in one place.
The crowded market in Maidstone was a trickle of passersby compared to this crush.
Smoke from hundreds of candles smudged the air.
Liveried footmen maneuvered the crowd with trays of drink, adroitly dodging wide gestures or heads thrown back.
At the far end of the hall, a full orchestra blasted a brassy song.
“You may give off the appearance of a newcomer to castle balls,” Killian said, leaning to whisper loudly into her ear, “but
try not to appear as if you’ve stepped onto the moon. And do not become distracted. The sooner we locate Bannock, the sooner
we can get out.”
Dani nodded, smoothing her skirts with her palms. She glanced over her shoulder. Lord Fernsby had broken away, disappearing
into the crowd. Sister Marie wore a resigned expression of hauteur and piety, but her eyes darted right and left. Gabriel,
imposing in his uniform, loomed over them. He looked unsettled and disgusted.
“Fernsby’s bolted and I’m going to cut Gabriel loose,” Killian told Marie in a low voice. He leaned to Dani’s brother to whisper
something, and Gabriel nodded and moved away. Three seconds later, he was gone, disappearing into a passage that led into
the heart of the castle.
Dani sucked in a shaky breath. She’d known they would separate, but she hadn’t realized it would happen so soon.
“It would be impossible to keep them close,” Killian told her. “They have business beyond recovering Bannock, and I cannot
dissuade them from it. The viscount’s military training and Gabriel’s imposing size and strength will see them through. They
know the rendezvous point. I’ll lend support when I can. Even if you and I are separated, Marie will not leave your side,
Danielle.”
He walked ahead of Dani and Sister Marie, shouldering to the opposite side of the dance floor.
As they made their way through the crowd, Dani searched every face.
No one appeared remarkable; guards and servants looked bored, just as Killian had said.
The guests were a colorful riot, carefree and distracted.
Killian led them to a long table, heavy laden with blazing candelabras and platters of food. Would they eat? she wondered.
Dani was too anxious to tolerate rich party food, but she would—
“I beg your pardon, Colonel,” called a voice from behind them. The words were in French and Killian wouldn’t immediately understand.
Dani grabbed him by the arm. They turned to see the official from the front gate. His skepticism had vanished, replaced by
deference and a wide-eyed urgency.
“The Comte d’Moulac wishes to extend a very warm welcome to Her Serene Highness, Princess Danielle,” the official said. “That
is, he would very much like to welcome her himself.” He bowed lowly.
Dani glanced at Killian, uncertain if her brother-in-law understood the man’s rapid speech. With Fernsby gone, there was no
one to smooth over Killian’s mediocre French. Before Killian could answer, Dani told the official, “If it pleases his lordship,
I should like some refreshment before any introductions.”
“But of course,” enthused the official. “A footman will prepare a tray. The comte will be honored to share his private table
with Her Serene Highness.”
Dani frowned at this. Beside her, Marie fingered the heavy wooden cross hanging around her neck.
“The princess will welcome an introduction to the comte in due time,” said Sister Marie, “but first she would recover from our journey. She is newly returned from exile and not accustomed to society, as we’ve said.
If you please, might we be shown to a withdrawing room?
I will see to her comfort. After she’s taken some respite, Her Serene Highness will be better prepared to make the acquaintance of the Comte d’Moulac. ”
The servant considered this, biting his lip and glancing over his shoulder. It occurred to Dani that the comte lurked nearby,
observing her. Killian and Marie must’ve assumed the same, because her brother-in-law stepped close and Marie took Dani by the arm.
“If you please, sir,” Dani added with a snap.
After another hesitation, the man bowed and led them from the main hall down a dark corridor. The passage led to a warm parlor
with plush furnishing and a bright fire. A handful of old women were scattered about the room, their heads bent together in
gossip.
“Absolutely not,” snapped Marie. “Somewhere private. The princess does not congregate with strangers.”
The man faltered and looked again over his shoulder. “A private room would have to be made ready,” he told them. “It will take time.”
“See to it, if you please,” Marie said.
The official looked uncomfortable. “But can I impose upon Your Highness to wait here while the room is readied?”
“I don’t suppose she has a choice,” Marie snapped. She bowed to Dani. “After you, Princess.”
Mimicking the rudeness and entitlement of Giles Stinchcomb, Dani glided into the small room.
She’d never before condescended to servants—before Eastwell Park, there’d been no servants to whom to condescend—but she understood her role.
She also understood the strategy. They were drifting deeper into the castle.
If a private room could be arranged, not only would they be deeper still, they would be unobserved.
“The headache again, Highness?” Marie asked loudly. The occupants of the parlor eavesdropped with keen interest. “Perhaps
fresh air would be the best remedy. If there is a smokier castle in Christendom, I’ve not seen it.”
“Fresh air would be lovely,” Dani mused, touching a gloved hand to her temple.
Five minutes later, the three of them hurried down the corridor in the opposite direction. At every door they passed, Killian
tested the knob. After four tries, they found an unlocked door to an empty room.
Swiping a candle from the wall, Killian ushered them into the room and closed the door. “Well, that was simpler than I’d hoped,”
he whispered. “Now, we separate. The two of you are obviously guests. If you’re stopped and questioned while you wander the
corridors, claim that you’ve lost your way.” While he spoke, he peeled from his uniform, stripping to peasant’s clothes underneath.
“Can you spare me, Marie?” he asked the nun.
“Of course.”
“Remember the rendezvous point?”
“Of course,” repeated Sister Marie. She sounded mildly annoyed.
“If you encounter Bannock,” Killian went on, “and he refuses to leave the castle because of some death wish for Surcouf, leave him.”
“But Killi—”
“Danielle, Elise and I want to serve your husband’s best interests, truly we do, but we’ve put too many lives at stake to indulge his revenge plot.
My priority is leaving this country with everyone I brought into it.
Bannock must cooperate. Our purpose here is to extract him and the old man, not to lay siege to a French officer in his own bloody castle. ”
“We will not take unnecessary risk, Killian,” assured Marie.
“This from a woman who accompanied my future wife into Bishopsgate in the middle of the night. And after that, into a burning
building.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Crewes,” Marie said. Dani chuckled. She’d heard the story of Sister Marie and Elise rescuing Killian
from a house fire before they married.
“Fernsby is God knows where, but he’s the only proper soldier among us and he understands the risk of a personal vendetta.
Gabriel will have, hopefully, located the dungeon by now. Without knowing the precise layout of this castle, we’re assuming
that any stairwell leading downward is a good start. I’ll try to assist.”
“But your proficiency with French,” Dani worried.
“This tunic and the short trousers cast me squarely among the kitchen help. I’ll be expected to listen, not speak. Trust me,
I am not the worry here. Be careful, Danielle, Marie. Promise me. No risk-taking, no heroics, find Bannock and get out.”
“I understand,” Dani assured him. In the same moment, Marie told him, “Go.”