The Earl and the Highwayman's Daughter

by Maggi Andersen

  She’d spent many a night worrying about Molly. “Don’t you have a garden in London?”

  Lady Beale laughed. How elegant she looked tonight in a rose-pink gown with rubies and diamonds at her ears.

  “Molly must return to the home farm, Eugenia,” his lordship said in the tone he used to issue orders.

  Was he worried about damage to the garden? “But birds attacked Molly when she was there. She had been pecked.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it. Nevertheless, the goose will be lonely. Birds prefer to flock together.”

  She sighed. “Do all birds prefer it?”

  A slight smile tugged at his handsome mouth. “I have instructed a better arrangement be made for her at the farm. A special pen with another goose until she’s accepted by the gaggle. While we’re away, my chef will not be required to prepare a goose for the table. So you need not worry about Molly’s fate.”

  “That is very good of you, my lord,” Eugenia said cautiously.

  The footmen brought in the next course, scenting the room with delicate aromas.

  “We’ll say no more on the subject during dinner,” he said, no doubt catching the mutinous look in her eye.

  The following morning, after visiting Molly, when Eugenia strolled in the gardens, picking flowers, Lord Trentham crossed the lawns toward her with long strides. She studied him from beneath her bonnet brim. He carried a crop and was dressed for riding, in a fitted dark coat and tight breeches, his top boots highly polished. How splendid he looked.

  “Counting lilacs, Eugenia?”

  She laughed. “Impossible, my lord. I thought Mrs. Throsby might like these for the drawing room.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be pleased.”

  Eugenia watched him walk to the stables. She had a sudden urge to impress him with how well she rode. But unfortunately, she’d had limited experience. And there was the problem of her clothing. She’d yet to have a riding habit made.

  She took the flowers into the house and presented the bunch to the housekeeper, who looked surprised. “A nice gesture indeed, thank you, Miss Hawthorne.”

  Eugenia wandered outside again. It was a glorious day. Lord Trentham would be still out riding somewhere over the estate. Walking along, deep in thought, she found herself at the stables, where Mr. Pollitt and the stable boy unloaded sacks of oats and beans from a dray.

  He smiled and removed his cap. “Anything I can do for you, Miss Hawthorne?”

  “Thank you, Mr. Pollitt. I have a rather odd request.”

  Half an hour later, Eugenia emerged from the groom’s room above the stables, just as his lordship rode in.

  Lord Trentham dismounted and strode over to stare up at her as she descended the stairs. “What on earth…?”

  “I should like to ride, my lord.” She stepped off the bottom rung, aware that her appearance had shocked him. She was dressed in Mr. Pollitt’s breeches, rolled up at the bottom, and a large shirt, which smelled strongly of horse.

  “Neal?” His lordship swiveled around to look at Mr. Pollitt

  “Please don’t be angry with Mr. Pollitt. I insisted,” Eugenia said.

  His lordship studied her outfit, his gaze lingering on her legs. “You cannot go about dressed like that, Eugenia. Have you actually ridden a horse?”

  She huffed. “Of course. I’m a country girl. But we only had the carthorse. He didn’t take kindly to being ridden.”

  A flicker of amusement entered his blue eyes. “I imagine not. Bring out a sidesaddle, Neal.”

  She frowned. “Must I have one?”

  He arched a brow. “Ladies don’t ride astride, Eugenia.”

  “Who is going to see me here?”

  “And you must ride with the groom.”

  “Can’t I ride with you, my lord?”

  A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “You are determined. My sister would be outraged.”

  She grinned. “Must she learn of it? I should not like to upset her.”

  He stroked his chin. “I intend for you to receive instruction before I take you riding in Rotten Row.”

  “Rotten what, my lord?” she asked as she followed him along the horse boxes.

  “It’s where the ton ride in Hyde Park.”

  “I thought this one, milord.” Mr. Pollitt waited at a horse stall.

  “I see Neal has selected a good mount for you.”

  The groom led out a short, solid grey horse. “This is Grey Dreamer, Miss Hawthorne.” He went to fetch the saddle.

  Dismayed, Eugenia stared at the horse. “I’m to ride a pony?” She’d been patting a tall chestnut gelding who had thrust his handsome head over the door of the box. “She looks half asleep.”

  His lordship threw back his head and laughed. “Then you shall wake her. Grey Dreamer is my stallion’s companion. Neal, please assist Miss Hawthorne to mount.”

  Eugenia eyed the sidesaddle. It looked impossibly foolish. “Can I not use an ordinary saddle?”

  His lordship shook his head. “That is unacceptable. And I’m losing patience.”

  With the groom’s help, she clambered onto the saddle and arranged her leg around the pommel. She took up the reins and reached for the crop, and then as his lordship mounted his stallion, she walked the animal out onto the cobblestones in the stable yard.

  Once out in the sunshine, Grey Dreamer appeared to droop. Eugenia nudged the animal in its round belly with the heel of her half boot. The grey came alive and took off down the carriage drive with his lordship yelling instructions behind her. The horse then lurched sideways onto the lawn, heading straight for the rose garden.

  “Whoa,” Eugenia cried, tugging on the reins. Her face burned with distress. What would his lordship think if she trampled his garden? With one final violent tug, she managed to steer the stubborn horse away from the roses and pull her up. Grey Dreamer bent her head, and with delicate precision, picked up a fallen rose, and munched it, a serene expression in her big brown eyes. “You are a fraud, Grey Dreamer,” Eugenia said with disgust.

  Lord Trentham joined her on his magnificent burnished gold stallion. “I’m glad you managed to stop the mare,” he said. “My head gardener would be livid if the horse attacked his prize roses.” He reached across and took the reins from her.

  “I can manage her, my lord,” she said, her face hot.

  “We shall not risk it, Eugenia. I don’t wish to face my sister’s wrath. And you might get hurt.”

  “You said I required instruction,” she said, dismayed. “Better here, surely, then amid a group of seasoned riders who will make me look foolish. Can we ride just a little way along the bridle path?” She was determined to show him she could ride well.

  He frowned. “It’s against my better judgment.”

  “Please?” She eyed him carefully. “I may lose my confidence and not be able to face the riders in Rotten Row.”

  He patted the neck of his horse, which had begun to nuzzle Grey Dreamer. “Oh very well,” he said at last. “I’ll lead your horse to the bridle path. I’m not about to put my gardens at further risk. I suspect Grey Dreamer has a fancy for roses.”

  Reaching the path, his lordship handed the reins to her. “Keep the horse to a walk, Eugenia.”

  Eugenia bit her lip. This was her chance. Walking along a path would prove nothing. A child could do it. She would be careful not to nudge the horse quite so hard this time. Grey Dreamer was foxing. The horse was far more awake than she made out. Perhaps she was not often ridden and wanted for exercise. A gentler tap with her crop had the mare in a trot. Lord Trentham fell behind her on the narrow path.

  “That’s good. Well done,” he called.

  The path ahead was a long, straight run. Planning to rein her in at the end, Eugenia leaned forward and urged the horse into a canter. Grey Dreamer needed little persuasion. She took off like an arrow.

  “Eugenia!” Lord Trentham called behind her. “Rein her in at once!”

  “What did you say, my lord?” Some minutes later,
where the trail curved to the right, Grey Dreamer lunged left, perhaps spooked at the sight of a squirrel running along a bow overhead. They emerged onto a sunlit meadow bordered by a low fence. As the horse showed no inclination to slow, Eugenia hung on. Grey Dreamer aimed straight for the fence and jumped, landing hard on her stocky legs and juddering Eugenia’s chin. Then the horse slowed, ambled across to a small stream, and lowered her head to drink. Eugenia turned around to watch Lord Trentham’s beautiful stallion take the jump far more gracefully. He rode up to her. “You will be responsible for my relapse, Eugenia.” he said sounding cross.

  “Oh no, please don’t say it.” Filled with anxious remorse, while determined not to admit she’d lost control of her mount again, Eugenia followed his lordship through a gate. They trotted the horses back to the stables.

  Once in the stable yard, Lord Trentham dismounted and walked over to her. He held up his arms, and she leaned into him, breathing in his sandalwood soap. His grip tightened around her waist as he set her on her feet. “You heard me tell you to stop, did you not? You are a disobedient young woman, Eugenia,” he said, breathing heavily.

  “I hope you haven’t reopened your wound, my lord.” Chewing her lip, she reached up to open his coat.

  “Stop!” He grabbed her hand in his broad one. “Go and rid yourself of those outrageous clothes before my sister sees you,” he said in a stifled voice.

  “Yes, Lord Trentham,” she said in a meek tone. She climbed the stairs to the groom’s room. At the top, she glanced down at his lordship. He’d removed his hat and was raking his fingers through his glossy dark brown hair.

  “I am sorry,” she said again, when she came down dressed in her morning gown. “I do hope you’re all right. Perhaps you should not have cantered quite yet.”

  Mr. Pollitt coughed and disappeared into the stable.

  “I assure you, Eugenia, I’m perfectly capable of galloping and jumping a fence, should I wish to.” he said with a frown. “Come, let’s walk back to the house.”

  They strolled along the carriage drive. “Are you eager to visit London?” he asked seemingly now in better humor.

  “I confess I am a little nervous.”

  “You have no reason to be. My sister and I will watch over you.”

  She picked up the skirts of her fern-green gown and closed the distance between them to gaze up into his face. “Why are you taking me to Town?”

  “Why?” He raised his eyebrows. “To restore you to your rightful place.”

  “As a duke’s daughter?”

  “I daresay you will meet your father. It’s up to him if he wishes to acknowledge you.”

  She scowled. “He is not my father.”

  He tucked a trailing strand of her hair behind her ear. “You are of his blood.”

  “So you are returning me to him, like a lost parcel?”

  “What?” His blue eyes grew serious. “No. Not at all, Eugenia. I hope you will forge your own life and be happy.”

  She frowned. “But do you believe he’ll admit I’m his daughter? He will be ashamed of me.”

  He sighed and rested his hands on her shoulders. “He would be a fool if he was. Look at you.” He studied her face with his enigmatic gaze for a long moment. Taking a step away he walked on.

  She hurried to keep up with him.

  He tapped his crop on his boot. “Eugenia, in this cruel, topsy-turvy world of ours, men don’t always claim their…”

  “Bastards?”

  “I dislike that term. It has no place in reference to a sweet young woman like you.”

  “Nevertheless, it appears that is what I am.” At least at home with her father—or the man she’d believed to be her father—none of this had ever concerned her. She had known who she was.

  “You must place your trust in me, Eugenia.” They crossed the terrace to the French doors, which opened into the salon. “Let us talk of something else. Do you fancy another attempt at beating me at chess?”

  She smiled. “Oh yes. I believe I’m improving.”

  “I fear that might be true. I shall have to concentrate harder.”

  “I doubt it will help you.”

  “Such fighting words.” He tapped her chin with gentle fingers. “We shall see about that.”

  They entered the graciously furnished room and sat on gilt chairs covered in deep-rose-pink damask before the board set up on the marble games table.

  An hour later, they were forced to stop and dress for luncheon.

  “I am close to outwitting you this time, my lord,” Eugenia said.

  He laughed. “Nonsense. I’ll have your queen in two moves.”

  “Shall we finish our game after luncheon?”

  Lady Beale met them at the top of the stairs. She crinkled her nose. “Haven’t you changed for luncheon, Brendan? I dislike to eat with the room smelling of horse.”

  He laughed. “I’m afraid I got sidetracked with a game of chess. I won’t be long.”

  “There will be no time for chess this afternoon, Eugenia,” she said. “We must organize your wardrobe. We leave for London the day after tomorrow.”

  A nervous thrill swept down her spine. She gazed from Lord Trentham to his sister. “So soon?”

  “You are more than ready, my dear. You have proven to be as my brother described you, an excellent student, a quick study.”

  His lordship paused, his long-fingered hand on the bannister. “Does Eugenia have a ball gown which will adequately display the emeralds?”

  Lady Beale’s eyes widened. “The Trentham emeralds, Brendan? They are most unsuitable. Are you aware of what sort of message that will send?”

  “I am. Eugenia will wear them when she meets Mortland.”

  “But she is too young to wear those jewels. It will be remarked upon. Please do be careful.”

  He continued up the stairs. “No need to concern yourself. I’ll keep my eye on them.”

  “But that’s what concerns me most.”

  Eugenia walked to her bedchamber. She’d given up trying to understand them when they talked in riddles. Why couldn’t aristocrats say what they meant? Was she to be a pawn in some kind of game? She disliked the idea intensely and hoped this duke they said was her father would not be in London. Then she might even enjoy herself.

  ***

  The next morning at breakfast, Brendan put down his newspaper as Barker poured his coffee. “Has Miss Hawthorne been in this morning?”

  “A quick meal, sir. She wished to visit the orchards.”

  Brendan raised his brows. “The orchards? Why?”

  Barker gave an indulgent smile. “Miss Hawthorne feels the staff don’t get enough fruit.”

  Brendan laughed. “Are you so badly treated, Barker?”

  “No indeed, milord.” The butler stifled a chuckle. “Miss Hawthorne thinks I look too pale. Asked me if I fancied a plum.”

  Brendan shook his head wordlessly, as the butler, his shoulders shaking, left the room. He downed his coffee and rose. He should talk to Eugenia before they left for London tomorrow. He must stress the importance of her not wandering off in the city. He didn’t entirely trust that free-spirited girl. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself. He’d go and find her, he’d planned to take the hounds rabbiting this morning.

  Calling her name, Brendan walked through the neat rows of fruit trees, his shotgun over his shoulder and his two hounds gamboling around him.

  “I’m here, my lord.”

  He eased aside a branch. “Where?”

  “Up here.”

  He glanced up. Eugenia perched above him, a basket hooked on the branch beside her. Her stockinged legs hung down, her dress caught up to the thigh, revealing blue satin garters.

  Brendan swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “Come down at once!” he called when he got control of his voice and his breath. Could he and Chloe turn this hoyden into a lady? He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to, he decided, watching her turn and scramble down while carefully keeping
her basket upright. He averted his gaze after she offered him another view of smooth bare thigh. He’d never met anyone like her. The ladies he knew never revealed a penchant for tree climbing. Even Chloe as a child resisted accompanying him on such endeavors. Eugenia was as nimble as a wood nymph. Compelled, he raised his head again to watch her. My God, she was a picture. More like the goddess, Demeter, wheat gold hair escaping from her straw hat, her blue gown rising up… He swiftly gazed at his feet again. “Do you require any assistance?” he asked disliking how stiff he sounded.

  “No.” She joined him on the ground.

  “Why the need for peaches?”

  “Vanessa told me she had a peach tree at home. She misses them.”

  He took the laden basket from her. “Then I must make sure the fruit is available to the staff when in season. To end the necessity for you to climb trees.”

  “I like climbing,” she said cheerfully, brushing down her skirt and depriving him of that glorious view of slim legs and an inviting expanse of creamy skin.

  “Ladies don’t…” He firmed his lips. He’d been about to give her a lecture. Instead he merely chuckled, placed his gun over his shoulder and called the dogs. “Shall we return to the house?”

  That evening over a game of chess, Eugenia gave a squeal of delight when she moved her knight to threaten his queen.

  “You are improving,” he said with a grin. “Might you have me on the ropes?”

  “Improving? I am about to checkmate you, my lord,” she said in a triumphant voice.

  “You two are very noisy tonight, I declare.” Chloe put away her knitting and rose. “Do not stay up too late, Eugenia. We depart early tomorrow and must endure many hours in the coach.”

  “I won’t. Goodnight, Lady Beale.”

  After the door closed on his sister, Eugenia gave him an impish grin. “Now, my lord, what say you to this latest move of mine?”

  “Let me see. If I do this....” Brendan hovered his knight over the board before setting it down. “You must then act to protect your king. Then I shall do this….” He indicated where he would move his queen. “And you shall be checkmated, my dear.”

  “Oh!” Her beautiful green eyes widened with accusation and she grabbed his hand before he made his move. “You are not to be trusted.”