He’d worked for the stables as hard and as menially as any groom or stable boy. Over the years, he’d studied everything he could about breeding. To his delight, he’d found within himself a natural skill that had added spark to his education. Within a short time, Bennett had turned a good stable into one of the best. In another decade, he was confident it would have no equal.

There were times when Bennett needed to discuss his horses and his ambitions with someone other than a stable hand or another breeder. Still, he understood, and always had, that that person would rarely be his father.

“I take it this isn’t the time to discuss it.” Bennett took another small sip of brandy and waited for his father to reveal whatever weighed on his mind.

“I’m sorry, Bennett, I’m afraid it isn’t.” The father felt regret. The prince could not. “Your schedule this next week. Can you tell me about it?”

“Not really.” The restlessness was back. Rising, Bennett began to pace from one window to another. How close the sea seemed and yet how far away. He wished for a moment that he was on a ship again, a hundred miles from any land, with a storm brewing on the horizon. “I know that I have to go into Le Havre at the end of the week. The Indépendance is coming in. There’s a meeting with the Farmers’ Cooperative and a couple of luncheons. Cassell fills me in each morning. If it’s important I can have him type up the highlights for you. I’m sure I’m cutting at least one ribbon.”

“Feeling closed in, Bennett?”

With a shrug, Bennett tossed off the last of his brandy. Then the easy smile returned. Life, after all, was too short to complain about. “It’s the ribbons that do it. The rest, at least, seems worthwhile.”

“Our people look to us for more than governing.”

Bennett turned from the window. Behind him the sun was high and bright. Whatever he might sometimes wish in his secret heart, the royalty he’d been born with cloaked him. “I know, Papa. The problem is I don’t have Alexander’s patience, Brie’s serenity or your control.”

“You might need them all soon.” Armand set his glass down and faced his son. “Deboque will be released from prison in two days.”

*   *   *

Deboque. Even the name caused fury to churn in Bennett’s stomach. François Deboque. The man by whose orders his sister had been kidnapped. The man who had planned assassination attempts on both his father and his brother.

Deboque.

Bennett pressed a finger to the scar just below his left shoulder. He’d taken a bullet there, and the trigger had been pulled by Deboque’s lover. For Deboque. By Deboque.