by Cheryl Holt
She’d arrived with a bag of clothes, but every item she’d brought had been stolen. When she saw other girls strutting about in her dresses, her complaints had simply invited derision and punches.
Her arms and legs were covered with bruises and bite marks. She’d been hit and kicked and pinched, with the nastier bullies eager to ensure she knew her place. But she would never bow down to them.
“I am Lord Benton’s daughter,” she seethed, glaring at the most malevolent of the pack. “It doesn’t matter what you say. It’s true.”
“Ooh-la-la, your ladyship. Aren’t you special?”
“I was raised at Benton. I had my own cottage, with my siblings, Bobby and Jane. My father’s other daughter, Alice, was my secret twin sister.”
“You’re so full of yourself, Daisy. You’re not the daughter of some fancy lord. I’ll bet you’re a by-blow he sired at a brothel. If you’re better than us, how’d you end up here?”
“My father died, and there was no one to protect me.”
“Well, who hasn’t had that happen? At least all of our parents were married. We are orphans. You’re a bastard. It puts all of us above you—despite what you think.”
Daisy was eating her noon meal, a bowl of oats and a slice of bread. They were fed twice a day, and she wouldn’t eat again until they staggered off to bed.
One of her tormenters knocked the bowl away, splashing the oats on the floor. Then she stomped across it, grinding the gruel into the wooden slats to guarantee Daisy wouldn’t bend down and lick at the remnants. To her great shame, she’d considered doing just that. She was that hungry, but she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of watching her grovel.
She closed her eyes and remembered her home at Benton. She pictured the dining table, and she was completing her school lessons with Bobby and Jane. Those had been the best times, before her father had passed away, before Mr. Slater had evicted them.
She wondered where her Aunt Jo might be. That last afternoon, when the Countess and Mr. Slater had sent Daisy away, Jo had been approaching on the sidewalk. Daisy had had a moment to frantically wave, to notify her that the Countess was waiting to accost her, but she doubted her warning had helped.
A woman as kind and nice as Jo could never win against such awful people.
Daisy would be kept at the workhouse until she was twelve—three more years!—then she’d have to leave and make her own way in the world. She couldn’t guess how she would. She often fantasized about escaping, and she’d imagine herself rushing back to their house to be with Jo so she’d be safe again.
But it was a child’s dream. Mr. Slater had told her they were sending Jo away too, so even if Daisy could locate their prior residence, Jo wouldn’t be there. Where would Jo go instead? Daisy had no idea.
She fantasized too about traveling to Cornwall, finding her half-siblings and Miss Watson. They’d welcome her, but it was another child’s dream. How would she get to Cornwall? She might as well plan a journey to the moon.
She thought she could find Benton though. It wasn’t that far from London, and she could live in the woods. Alice would sneak her food and blankets, and she’d hide Daisy from Mr. Slater. Alice might know how to contact her Uncle Peyton too.
After he’d jilted her Aunt Jo, Daisy wasn’t positive he’d offer any assistance, but she couldn’t stop hoping that he might be worried about her. She couldn’t believe he would approve of Mr. Slater’s conduct.
The bell clanged to announce that their meal was over. Daisy pushed herself to her feet, as did all the other girls. She was still holding her slice of bread, and one of the worst bullies snatched it away.
Daisy was so angry she might have lunged to retrieve it, but the matron entered and barked at them to stand in line as was required. Tears flooded Daisy’s eyes, and she swiped at them.
“Cry baby,” the girl behind her muttered.
“You’ll be sorry someday.” Daisy was so furious she couldn’t tamp down the words. “My Uncle Peyton will show up and take me away. I’ll tell him how mean you’ve been.”
“Who’s your Uncle Peyton? Another fancy lord?”
The girl pinched Daisy very hard, and she squirmed and groaned in pain. All the others snickered, and the matron snapped, “Silence!”
They marched into the workroom and sat at long tables. They were stuffing mattresses with straw, and Daisy actually had a more important job. Jo had taught her to sew, so she had a skill, and she’d been assigned to stitch the fabric closed at the end. It was a cleaner task than what was allocated to the others, and they loathed her for it. She was new and should have had to wrestle with the straw which left cuts and welts on the skin.
She picked up her needle and began to sew. The hours dragged by, and occasionally, her speed would lag. The matron tracked all of them, and she’d notice immediately. She’d clomp over and pull Daisy’s hair or pinch her again so she’d move at a faster pace.
Initially, she didn’t realize anything had changed. Whispers and elbow nudges furtively skittered around the table.
When Daisy finally glanced up, she froze in her seat. Her Uncle Peyton seemed to be on the other side of the room, but she was certain she had to be hallucinating.
He looked very dashing: blue frock coat, tan trousers, knee-high black boots that had been polished to a shine. His cravat was the finest Belgian lace, and it was perfectly tied in a complex knot.
Alice seemed to be with him. She, too, looked very grand, attired as she was in a red wool cloak, a matching bonnet with a jaunty feather.
“There she is, Uncle Peyton!” Alice gestured to Daisy.
The other girls watched, stunned and agape, as her uncle and Alice rushed toward her. Alice reached Daisy first and flew into her so hard that Daisy was surprised they didn’t fall over.
“Where have you been?” Alice asked. “I’ve been so worried!”
Then her uncle was there too, and he scooped her into his arms and hugged her so tightly she couldn’t breathe.
“You scamp!” His affection was very clear. “We have been searching everywhere for you.”
“We didn’t know you were missing,” Alice told her. “We thought you were with your Aunt Jo.”
“I’m so sorry, Daisy,” her uncle admitted. “I would have come sooner, but I had an accident, and while I was recuperating, I had no idea you were in trouble.”
“It’s all right,” Daisy murmured. “You’re here now.”
“My mother and my Uncle Richard did this to you,” Alice said, “but Uncle Peyton made them pay for being so awful.”
“How?”
“He kicked them out of Benton, so we don’t have to see their terrible faces ever again.”
“Where is Aunt Jo?” Daisy inquired. “Is she with you?”
Her uncle frowned. “No, she’s not with us, but let’s go. We should hurry out of here or they might lock the door and refuse to allow any of us to depart.”
“Where are we going?” Daisy asked him.
“To Benton.”
“Can I live in my cottage again? Can I have Bobby, Jane, and Miss Watson live there with me?”
“We’ll talk about that,” her uncle said, “but for now, you’ll live in the manor with Alice and me.”
Daisy was astonished. “In the manor?”
“Yes,” Alice confirmed. “You’ll be with both of us. Nancy will be there too, but we don’t have to be friends with her—unless you want to.”
“Let’s go,” her uncle repeated.
“I can just…leave?” Daisy couldn’t believe it.
“Yes. There’s no one to stop us.”
Daisy studied the ringleader who’d instituted so much of the torture she’d endured. “Uncle Peyton, would you tell all of them who you are—and who I am? I’ve tried to explain it, but they call me a liar.”
She peered up at him, her gaze beseeching, and in an instant, he understood all that she’d suffered. He didn’t disappoi
nt her. He pulled himself up to his full height, his haughty expression settling on each girl in turn.
“I am Commander Peyton Prescott, a ship’s captain in the Royal Navy who has sailed the globe over and over. I am also Earl of Benton, and I am Daisy’s uncle. Her father was my brother, Neville. He was Lord Benton before me.”
Alice added, “She and I have the same father, so she is my sister.”
Her uncle stared down at Daisy. “Is there anything else you’d like them to know?”
“I think that’s plenty.”
Daisy cast a contemptuous smirk down the table, then she slipped her hand into her uncle’s. Alice clasped hold of the other, and the three of them walked out together.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Did you love Peyton?”
Jo scowled at Amelia. “Did I love Peyton? Yes, I suppose I did.”
“How much would you guess? Madly? Passionately? You couldn’t live without him?”
“If I admit any of that, you’ll decide I’m the biggest fool ever.”
“Tell me though,” Amelia pressed. “I want to understand the depth of your affection.”
“Why? Are you a glutton for punishment? Don’t make me confide sentiment that will hurt your feelings. I haven’t forgotten your history with him. I butted in and wrecked your future.”
“You didn’t wreck anything. Peyton was never going to wed me, but I was too stupid to realize it. Your arrival simply forced him—and me—to recognize that fact.”
“Yes, but you assumed you’d be his bride, and I prevented that from occurring.”
“No, you didn’t. He was like a second brother to me. If you asked me the same question I just asked you—did I love him—I’d laugh.”
“Must we discuss him?”
“Yes. I insist on hearing your opinion. Were you in love with him? For I’m certain he was in love with you.”
“You really believe that?”
“Yes. That night at Benton House, I saw how he looked at you. He definitely never looked at me that way.”
They were huddled in a corner at the Boyle’s home, having a quiet conversation away from their guests.
The residence was filled with people, and a very fine party was in progress. A supper buffet was laid out in the dining room. The furniture and rugs had been removed from the front parlor, and dancing was about to start. A trio of musicians was tuning their instruments and about to strike the chords to announce the first set.
It was such a happy scene, and Jo was joyful at being included. The Boyle siblings and their mother, Lydia, were kind and generous. They’d opened their hearts to her, and she could never repay them.
They were liked and respected by all, and Jo was lucky they’d taken her under their wing. If they hadn’t, she shuddered to imagine what might have happened.
“All right, Amelia, I confess. I was madly in love with Peyton Prescott. I was completely and ridiculously bowled over by him. Is that sufficient information to satisfy your curiosity?”
“Would you say he felt the same about you?”
“If you’d pestered me about it before my wedding, I’d have said yes, but after he jilted me, I had to accept that I might have been a tad confused about the state of his attachment.”
“Aren’t you interested in how he’s kept himself busy the past few months? Last summer, that navy official told you he’d sailed to the Caribbean, but obviously, he hadn’t. And he broke his leg in that accident.”
“I hate to think of him being injured. He’s always seemed so dashing and fit to me. He can’t like being incapacitated.”
“No, he wouldn’t like that at all.” Amelia peeked down at Jo’s stomach. “What if you have a boy? Have you considered that?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you marry Evan, and you have a girl, it probably won’t matter very much, but if it’s a son, he should grow up to be the next Earl of Benton.”
Jo wrinkled her nose. “Let’s not talk about that. I have enough on my plate without worrying about the succession of the Benton heir.”
Amelia chuckled. “But have you thought about it?”
“Yes, I’ve thought about everything.”
Evan was across the room, chatting with some friends. He was such a wonderful man, and Jo was stunned by how he’d leapt to rescue her. He’d offered to wed her, to save her from scandal and disgrace. His actions went far beyond what was required or expected, and she was so grateful to him, but she felt terribly guilty too.
It wasn’t fair for her to have dumped all her troubles on his sturdy shoulders. Could she rope him into marriage? Could she be that selfish? Yet if she didn’t proceed, what was her plan?
She tried to never ponder Lord Benton—what was the point?—but a vision of him flashed in her mind. She remembered him in the driveway when he’d stopped by a few days earlier.
For a fleeting moment, she’d assumed he’d arrived specifically to find her. Clearly, he hadn’t realized she was present, but after he’d seen her, she’d been positive he’d storm in to fetch her away, and she was crushed that he’d cared so little.
He and Evan had exchanged insults, and they’d been so awful that Evan wouldn’t repeat them. What had Lord Benton said about her? Had he laughed at her condition? Had he called her a doxy with loose morals? Had he blamed her for being gullible and easy?
She’d loved him so desperately. He’d been her life and her world. Since he’d vanished, she’d been grieving and imperiled and anxious to make sense of what had transpired.
But he hadn’t been concerned in the slightest. He hadn’t been searching, hadn’t been frantic, and when he’d finally bumped into her, when he’d discovered she was staying with Evan and Amelia, he hadn’t bothered to come inside. He’d been that disinterested.
Why hadn’t he pushed his way into the house and demanded they speak? Were there no questions he needed to have answered? Apparently not, and his lack of regard was a wound she would always carry deep in her heart.
“What is your opinion of my brother?” Amelia asked.
“He’s marvelous, and I’m lucky he wants me.”
“What about you though? Do you want him?”
Jo allowed one last vision of Lord Benton to settle in. She allowed herself to recollect how she’d worshipped him, how urgently she’d yearned to have him for her own. Then she recollected how—when he’d stumbled on her at Evan’s home—he hadn’t come inside.
She was several months down the road toward having a baby. How long would she continue to dither?
Evan Boyle was willing to provide a refuge from scandal and shame. Would she refuse that protection? Who wouldn’t want Evan as a husband, Amelia as a sister, Lydia as the mother Jo had never had? Who wouldn’t want that?
“I would like to wed your brother, Amelia.” She smiled even though she was a bit queasy and unnerved. “I’d like it very much.”
Amelia smiled too. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m very sure.”
“Could you ever picture yourself falling in love with him?”
Could she? Jo figured it would develop in time. They were friends. They were compatible. They enjoyed and respected one another. What couple needed more than that? After all, the hot, searing sort of attraction she’d shared with Lord Benton only left a person singed to ashes when it burned out.
“I’m certain I’ll grow to love him,” Jo cautiously stated.
“And Peyton? Are you truly over him?”
Jo managed to spit out the huge lie. “Yes, I’m over him.”
Amelia was dubious, but in the end, she accepted Jo’s assertion. “You’ll never regret being Evan’s wife.”
“I’m positive I won’t.”
“Shall we go over and tell him your decision?” Amelia asked. “Or would you like to tell him when the two of you are alone?”
“You’ll be my sister,” Jo said. “Let’s tell him together.”
* * * *
Amelia exited her carriage and climbed the steps at Benton Manor. She was probably on a fool’s errand and was butting in where she didn’t belong, but she’d proceed anyway.
When she reached the door, no one whipped it open to greet her which was odd for such a grand residence. She waited a suitable interval, knocked, then peeked into the empty foyer. The house was particularly quiet, as if all the servants had been sucked off into the sky.
She tiptoed in, and before too much time had passed, a young man came down the hall. He wasn’t wearing Benton livery, and he didn’t appear to be a servant.
“Oh, hello.” He seemed astonished to see her. “I didn’t realize we had a visitor.”
“Where is everyone? The place is absolutely deserted.”
“We had an upheaval recently. Most of the servants departed.”
“It must have been quite an upheaval.”
“It was,” he agreed, but he supplied no further information.
“I’m Miss Amelia Boyle. I’m an old friend of Lord Benton’s.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Boyle. I am Arthur Cummings. I am his…ah…well, I guess I’m his clerk?”
“You don’t know?”
“I carry out any task he requires.”
“Then we’ll say you’re his clerk. By any chance, is he at home?”
“He is. Have a seat in the parlor, and I’ll fetch him.” He frowned. “I don’t have a footman to deliver any refreshments.”
“I don’t need any.”
“It may take me many minutes to locate him.”
“Don’t worry about me, Mr. Cummings. I can entertain myself.”
She shooed him out, then went into the parlor and sat on a sofa.
Previously, she’d never been to Benton. She hadn’t been acquainted with Neville Prescott, and after Peyton had inherited, there hadn’t been an opportunity to be invited. She studied every detail, so she could reflect later on.
An eternity dragged by, and finally, she heard him marching down the hall. She stood and braced herself. She hadn’t seen him since his birthday party. What would his opinion be of her showing up unannounced? More importantly, would he be able to explain his actions toward Jo? Amelia was dying to find out.
