by Bree Wolf
Chapter Ten – A Daring Plan
Oliver watched the exchange between the two men and the woman with rapt attention. Although his French was a bit rusty and they tried their best to whisper, he was able to pick up a few words here and there. He also noticed that the woman seemed to speak French with the same native efficiency as the two men, whereas her English had been free of a French accent, unlike that of the two men. Still, the captain had called her his daughter, and she had just addressed him as papa.
Unable to tear his eyes away from her, Oliver took note of the way her hands trembled as she stepped toward her father. Deep concern as well as a hint of fear rested in her eyes, and he wondered how a woman could roam the seas on a privateer’s vessel but fall apart when reading a stranger’s betrothal announcement.
A moment of tense silence hung about the cabin before the captain’s eyes drifted in Oliver’s direction. As much as they had forgotten his presence before, he now was the centre of attention.
Oliver’s gaze moved from the glaring captain to Violet, whose face showed a momentary touch of relief before she forced her features back under control. Then she approached him, holding up the newspaper clutched in her hand.
“Lord Cullingwood,” she addressed him, her voice not as strong as it had been before. “May I ask you a question?”
Oliver nodded, unable to not give her what she wanted, hoping that it was within his power to give. For a second, he had glimpsed a vulnerability in her face that he had never thought possible. From the moment he had first laid eyes on her, she had seemed strong, sure of herself, unwavering. Still, it seemed she, too, possessed a fearful side.
Knowing that gave him strength, hope, allowed him to not judge himself so harshly.
Everyone had faults, fears, did they not?
“Do you know this man,” she began, pointing to the betrothal announcement in the paper, “and this woman? Have you heard of them? Have you ever met them? Do you know…” she swallowed as though needing to gather her courage to finish the question, “…if they are already married?”
Looking at their names, Oliver tried to remember. “I cannot say I’m acquainted with them,” he finally said, hating the disappointment that came to her face. “However, I know of them. Not much,” he added when he saw her eyes light up, “but as far as I know the wedding has not yet taken place.”
For a moment, Violet seemed as though she would sink into a puddle on the floor so evident and overwhelming was the relief that flooded her beautiful face. Her eyes glowed, and her mouth curled up into a tantalising smile. If he had not been bound, Oliver would have swept her into his arms and kissed her.
“Then there is still time,” she exclaimed, spinning on her heel and approaching her father as well as the other dark-haired man, both of whom were now staring at her as though she had suggested to climb down into hell to retrieve a fallen star.
“Ma chère cousine, you must be mad,” the younger man exclaimed. “You cannot truly intend to…” Words failed him, and he simply stared at her, shaking his head.
Cousine? Oliver thought. So, he was her cousin. Still, he could not detect a family resemblance between them. Neither between her and her father. Only the two men seemed to share certain features.
“I do intend to,” Violet confirmed as she stood her ground, squaring her shoulders and raising her chin, her blue eyes determined as she met her family’s disbelieving stares. “I need to. I–”
“What exactly is your plan?” her cousin asked, his voice mocking. “Do you simply intend to ride into London, request to speak to your former betrothed and ask him not to marry that girl?”
Former betrothed? Oliver frowned yet again. Under what circumstances would a French girl ever be betrothed to an English lord? But then again, she was not French, was she? At least, she had not been born French.
“Of course not,” Violette snapped at her cousin, glaring at him rather impressively. “I’m not a fool. I–”
“At present, I’m not so certain,” her cousin interrupted, raking his hands through his hair. “This is madness. You cannot–”
“Henri!” The captain’s calm voice silenced the agitated young man instantly. However, judging from the way Henri pressed his lips together to keep from voicing his thoughts, he did not appreciate his uncle’s interference.
Then the captain stepped toward his daughter. “Why?” was all he said.
Inhaling a deep breath, Violette nodded. “It was supposed to be me, not her. She is paying the price for my freedom. I cannot allow that to happen. I cannot abandon her to her fate.”
Her father swallowed, and Oliver could see his desire to simply forbid her on his face. However, he did not. “How do you intend to save her?”
Violette’s head sank. “I do not know.”
“It would be dangerous,” her father finally said, unable not to voice his concerns. “Too dangerous.”
“She might not even object to the marriage,” Henri added, his face calm again as he stepped up to his uncle. “She might want to marry him. Did you even consider that?”
Violette scoffed, “He’s an old man. He was already an old man when I was a child. What do you think?”
Henri gritted his teeth, his sharp green eyes as determined as her blue ones. “Still, it does not change anything! Whether she wants to marry him or not is not your concern.” Violet opened her mouth in protest, but he cut her off. “It is not! There is no way for you to get into London and see that woman without putting yourself in danger. I will not allow it.”
For a long moment, the young woman stared at her cousin open-mouthed, incredulity visible in her dark gaze. “I never thought I’d hear you say these words,” she finally said, disappointment clouding her voice.
Although Henri looked contrite, he did not back down. “Well, you needed to hear them.” He inhaled a deep breath, honest regret in the way he looked at her. “There is simply no way.”
“I could take her.”
At the sound of Oliver’s voice, all heads turned to him, different degrees of disbelief and annoyance visible in their eyes.
Stunned by his own boldness, Oliver swallowed. The words had left his lips before he had even registered the thought. Still, the more he thought about it, the more the idea appealed to him.
After all, it would prevent the humility of being ransomed back to his father while at the same time giving him the opportunity to spend more time with Violet. Never in his life had he met a young woman as intriguing as she. Her strength and iron will, her loyalty and bravery, made her very appealing to him, and what she had in mind promised nothing short of an adventure.
Truth be told, Oliver realised that he had been waiting for this his whole life!
“Are you serious?” Violet asked, approaching him, a mixture of hope and suspicion in her blue eyes.
“Of course, he is!” her cousin snapped, anger narrowing his gaze. “He wants us to release him!”
Oliver inhaled a deep breath, knowing that he would have to prove himself to them. After all, what reason would they have to believe an Englishman? “Admittedly,” he began, looking from Henri to the captain, “I do hope to avoid being ransomed back because my father all but lives for the pleasure of seeing me humiliated, of lecturing me and telling me how utterly unworthy I am, simply because I do not welcome the life he chose for me.” Oliver felt his heart thud in his chest as he voiced the thoughts that had been with him his whole life. In a strange way, it felt utterly liberating!
Still, Henri seemed far from inclined to believe him. Captain Duret, however, had a thoughtful expression on his face as though he, too, knew something about suffocating expectations. “If we were to agree,” the captain began, lifting a hand to silence his nephew as he opened his mouth in protest, “what would be your plan?” For a second, his gaze darted to his daughter, who smiled back at him gratefully, before those dark eyes returned to Oliver.
Hope rose in his chest. “Well, I would suggest that you drop us off near
my southern estate by the coast. From there, we could make our way into London, and I could help her get in contact with Lady Juliet.” Holding his breath, Oliver waited for the captain’s response.
Capitan Duret held his gaze for a long moment. “How would you explain her presence?” He glanced at his daughter.
Oliver swallowed, knowing that this was the part that could break his neck. “In order for her to call on Lady Juliet, she would have to be considered of the same station,” Oliver began, choosing to explain himself first before he stated his answer outright. Still, judging from the tense look on the captain’s face, he already knew what Oliver was about to say. “The only way I can think of is for her to pose as my…wife.”
While the captain’s face remained immobile, his nephew’s eyes flew open in outrage and every muscle in his body seemed to tense to the point of breaking. “Absolutely not!” he snarled, starting toward Oliver with a murderous gleam in his eyes.
For the second time that day, Oliver wished his hands were not bound as he prepared himself for the Frenchman’s fist to connect with his jaw.
However, in the last moment, Violet stepped into her cousin’s way, her eyes hard and the set of her jaw determined as she shoved him back. “Whether you like it or not, this is the only way,” she snapped at him. “I will not abandon her!”
Glaring at her, Henri inhaled a slow breath, his body shaking with the effort to remain still. “We cannot trust him; do you not see that?” he demanded. “What is to keep him from revealing your identity? From turning on you?” He shook his head vehemently. “No, I cannot allow you to risk your life for someone you’ve never even met.”
Violet’s eyes narrowed with anger. “You cannot allow it?” she demanded in return, hands on her sides. “Well, you don’t have to.” She lifted her chin a notch, holding his gaze with a steely one of her own. “For it is my choice. Not yours. When you and father came for us all those years ago, you gave me the freedom to choose. I will not relinquish it now. This is my life. My choice.”
Staring at Violet, Oliver felt humbled by the determination in her voice, by the way she met her family’s disapproval, by her unwavering belief that she had a right to make her own choices.
“You’re right.”
At the captain’s calm voice, Henri spun around. “You cannot be serious? You cannot truly intend to let her go?”
Captain Duret inhaled a slow breath. “It is not my decision.”
Shaking his head in utter disbelief, his nephew glared at him, then turned on his heel and stormed out, his angry footsteps echoing down from the deck above.
“Thank you, Father.”
Captain Duret nodded. “Tell me, why would you put your life in the hands of this stranger?”
Violet sighed, a wistful smile tugging on her lips. “You taught me that family is worth fighting for, worth taking risks for. Perhaps Lady Juliet does not have that kind of family.” She nodded, certainty burning in her blue eyes. “Someone ought to fight for her. Give her a choice. Twelve years ago, we weren’t family, either, and yet, you fought for me. Was that wrong? Do you regret that?”
Shaking his head, Captain Duret stepped toward her, pulling her hands into his own. “Never, ma chérie! Never!” His features softened as he looked at his daughter, utter devotion in his eyes, and Oliver knew with absolute certainty that his own father had never once looked at him thus.
“I cannot walk away,” Violet continued. “I cannot.”
Her father nodded. “I will not force you to, but I will ask you to proceed with caution.”
Chapter Eleven – An Honourable Man
“Father, will you leave us alone for a moment?” Violette asked, knowing that the only way for her to get a better understanding of the man she would be entrusting her life to was for them to speak in private…without her father’s calculating gaze hovering in the background.
The hands that held hers tensed.
“If I am to go to London with him,” she counselled, “I need to speak with him alone. I’m asking you to trust me, after all, you’ve taught me well.”
After glaring at Lord Cullingwood, her father nodded. “Very well. I shall be nearby.” Then he turned away and walked out of the cabin. Still, Violette knew that he was waiting outside the door.
Turning around, Violette looked at their prisoner. Holding his gaze, she stepped closer, trying to determine if he had spoken honestly. Could she truly trust him? Or was she being a sentimental fool?
“You have doubts,” he observed, his pale blue eyes never leaving hers.
Violette scoffed, “How could I not? You’re English.” She inhaled a deep breath, watching him as he watched her. “Tell me, my lord, can I trust you? Are you an honourable man?”
For a moment, a dark cloud seemed to descend upon his features and his gaze turned inward. Then he drew in a slow breath. “I try to be.” His eyes returned to hers. “Sometimes I fail.”
Surprised, Violette watched him. After all, she had expected him to assure her without hesitation that he was trustworthy, that she had nothing to worry about. But he had not. Instead, he had spoken…truthfully? He had revealed something about himself.
Doubts.
Pain.
Regret.
Still, she could not be certain. “Why would you offer to help me, Lord Cullingwood? You might be a prisoner now, but not for long. You would be returned to your home soon enough. After all, a man of your standing would fetch a nice ransom. No harm would come to you.” Shaking her head, she watched him. “Why would you help me and betray your own people?”
The muscles in his jaw tensed. “As I’ve said before,” he began, his eyes dropping from hers as though he felt embarrassed, “being ransomed back would be the ultimate proof to my father that I am not worthy of the position I am to inherit.” He seemed to swallow the lump in his throat before his gaze sought hers once more. “Only a few days ago, he told me that he wished he could prevent the title from passing to me. He only thinks of me as a disappointment, and I…I do not want to prove him right.”
Violette frowned at the pain and humiliation, the utter sadness that clung to his features, darkened his eyes and thickened his voice. Could it be real? Violette wondered, surprised to feel her heart aching for the misery she saw on his face. “What kind of a man are you?” she asked, curious.
For a moment, he closed his eyes and shook his head. Then his blue eyes found hers once more. “If only I knew,” he whispered, open regret in his voice. “I was never…free to find out.”
Hearing her own words reflected in his, Violette wondered what kind of a life she would have led had her father not come for her. And more importantly, what kind of a woman would she have become if she had stayed in England? Who would he be today if he had lived her life?
Realising that she had made her decision, Violette stepped around him and reached down to unbind his hands. “Whether it is wise or not,” she said as the rope fell away, “I will trust you. For now.”
Bringing his hands to the front, Lord Cullingwood rubbed his wrists, then slowly rose from the chair and turned to face her. His blue eyes travelled over her face, and a gentle smile tugged on the corner of his mouth.
“Mind you,” she warned him, jabbing her index finger at his chest, “if you cross me, I will kill you. Do not doubt that for a second.”
Violette was taken aback when instead of shock, awe came to his face and he smiled at her. “I shall consider myself warned.” His voice was teasing, oddly reminding Violette of her cousin. “Are you English?” he asked rather unexpectedly, his head cocked to the side, eyes narrowed as though that could help him see the answer.
For a moment, Violette hesitated, considering how much to reveal about herself. Finally, she said, “Not anymore.”
His brows drew down, and curiosity sparked in his eyes. “How did you come to be on a French privateer?”
“It’s a long story,” was all Violette said, waiting to see if he would press her for more. Could he
be an agent of the British crown after all? Trained to gain the enemy’s trust and then use that trust to betray them?
A teasing grin curled up his lips. “Perhaps one day you’ll tell me.”
“Perhaps.”
His grin widened, and he took a step closer.
Violette felt herself tense, her mind racing to interpret the look in his eyes, to determine if he intended to attack her, to foresee his actions before it was too late. “What–?”
“Then you agree to be my wife?” he asked, catching her off guard.
Violette’s eyes widened. “What?”
Resting one hand on the back of the chair, he took yet another step toward her, his gaze holding hers in a rather unsettling way. “I asked if you agree to be my wife,” he said, his voice teasing, and yet, the way his gaze burnt into hers spoke of something other than humour.
Violette swallowed, instinctively raising her chin, doing her best to ignore the sudden rush of emotions, the way her insides seemed to dance. “You are aware that it will only be pretence, are you not?”
Again, his grin widened as he leaned forward ever so slightly. “For now,” he whispered. “And call me Oliver. After all, I am to be your husband.”
***
If he was not utterly mistaken, there had been a slight flush colouring her cheeks when Violet had all but fled from his presence to ask her father back inside.
Never had he thought of himself as the marrying type. However, Oliver had the sneaking suspicion that he would enjoy being married to Violet very much.
Suppressing a smile, Oliver turned his attention to the captain, who now stood in the doorway, his dark gaze taking in his daughter’s flushed face. In answer, his eyes narrowed, and he inhaled a steadying breath. His gaze remained on Violet, and something unspoken seemed to pass between them. A moment later, the man nodded and stepped toward Oliver. “Tell me, my lord, what is your plan?”
Clearing his throat, Oliver addressed the captain. “My family has a small estate near the coast close to Canterbury. If you were to take us there, we could make our way to London from there. I would introduce her as my wife,” he glanced at Violet who held his gaze with a fierce determination but could not quite keep the tell-tale flush from showing on her face, “and she would be welcomed into society. Admittedly, people will be surprised, but they will question neither me nor my word. The season is in full swing, so everyone will be in London. It should be fairly easy to arrange a way for your daughter to speak to Lady Juliet.”