“Why help Mortland’s child?” She narrowed her eyes. “There’s more to it than that. How old is this young lady?”
“Eighteen.”
“Hardly a child then. I was married and had given Aubrey his heir when not much older.” She sighed. “What do you wish me to do?”
“Turn her into a lady. Then we shall take her to London.”
She cast him a pitying glance. “A silk purse from a sow’s ear? And a bastard that society will shun! You ask too much, Brendan.”
“Just wait until you’ve seen her. Ring the bell.”
Chapter Six
EUGENIA ENTERED the walled garden and closed the gate behind her as Molly left the ornamental pond and waddled along the pebbled pathway, eager to greet her.
William was gathering up his tools, having just made a box for the goose to sleep in, lined with straw. It looked incongruous tucked amongst the lavender, peonies, and climbing roses, and she hoped his lordship would not be annoyed. She hurried over to thank the gardener. “You are kind, William. Molly will be most grateful. I hope there’s something I can do for you in return.”
William touched his forelock. “It’s of no consequence, Miss Hawthorne.”
“Eugenia, please.”
He settled his cap on his head. “Beg pardon, Miss Hawthorne. I didn’t know you was the earl’s ward.”
He wheeled his barrow away.
Later that afternoon, Jeremy knocked at her bedchamber door. Eugenia was glad for the interruption. She was intolerably bored and had been considering a visit to the library. At home she was always busy.
The footman bowed. “Your presence is required in his lordship’s bedchamber, Miss Hawthorne.”
She grinned at the tall, handsome fellow. “My goodness, Jeremy. Am I permitted to visit him there?” He had not welcomed her company yesterday.
Jeremy smiled. “I am so instructed, Miss Hawthorne.”
“Then lead on if you please. I still get lost in this huge house.”
“How is Molly faring?” Jeremy asked as they walked to the stairs.
“Happily ridding the walled garden of slugs and snails, and a few of the plants too, regrettably. William has been very nice about it.”
Jeremy chuckled. “Here we are, Miss Hawthorne.” He straightened his shoulders and took on his footman’s mien, knocking on the door with a gloved fist.
Lady Beale sat beside Lord Trentham’s bed. Two pairs of blue eyes assessed her. Eugenia’s face grew hot, and she smoothed her skirts. “You wished to see me, my lord?”
His lordship leaned back against snowy pillows in a magnificent black silk dressing gown patterned with gold dragons. “I’d like to introduce you to my sister, Lady Beale.”
Eugenia curtseyed.
“Come here and let me look at you, my dear,” Lady Beale said.
Lady Beale’s coloring was similar to her brother, but there the resemblance ended. She was as dainty as a flower in her delphinium-blue gown.
Approaching the bed, Eugenia cast a quick assessing glance at his lordship. His color had improved, his eyes more alert. “They did not bleed you, my lord?”
He winked at his sister. “No, I bowed to your wishes, Miss Hawthorne.”
“I don’t approve of the practice in cases such as this,” Lady Beale said. “You need a new doctor, Brendan. This one is behind the times.” She rose with a rustle of skirts and placed her hands on Eugenia’s shoulders. Nervous, Eugenia tried to remain still as the lady’s bright blue eyes studied her. “My, but you are right, Brendan. No question of it. Walk around for me, Miss Hawthorne.”
Feeling rather like a prize heifer at the village market, Eugenia walked the length of the dense carpet.
“She is quite lovely, Brendan. Eugenia will be incomparable when I’ve finished with her. A mistress of royalty is not impossible.”
Eugenia spun around and stared at them. “I won’t!”
“But my dear, why not?” Lady Beale looked surprised. “Fabulous jewels, a wonderful home – socializing with the most important people in the land and part of the Prince Regent’s set. A fascinating life awaits you.”
Eugenia tried to catch his lordship’s eye, but he refused to look at her. “Can I not just stay here with Molly? I won’t bother anyone.”
“Is that one of the maids?” Lady Beale gave a tinkling laugh. “What nonsense. You can’t stay at Lilac Court forever. It’s all a bit overwhelming, though, isn’t it?” she said in a softer tone. “May I call you Eugenia?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Lady Beale took her hands and gave them a shake. “Marriage then. I’m sure that is possible when I’ve finished with you. Even without a substantial dowry, there will be some, a widower in need of children perhaps, who’d be prepared to ignore the shortcomings. Have you had a beau, my dear? I mean you haven’t…”
“Chloe!” His lordship had said little up to this point, but now he glowered and looked quite fierce.
Unsure of the question, Eugenia stared at them thunderstruck, as Lady Beale’s eyebrows lowered in a thoughtful frown. “Never mind, we shall remain equivocal on the subject. Please say you will agree to let me educate you in the ways of the ton. And dress you? With your face and figure, what fun that will be! Yes?”
Overwhelmed, Eugenia could only nod.
Lady Beale clapped her small hands. “I’ll send for my modiste, and we’ll begin immediately while you recuperate, Brendan. Then, when you are well again, we shall take Eugenia to London where men will fall at her feet. As you are her guardian, you must help me to instruct Eugenia in the ways of society.”
“I doubt you’ll need much from me, Clo. Eugenia is intelligent. A quick study.”
Eugenia was pleased that he thought of her in that way. Her tight shoulders eased a little. She found Lady Beale fascinating. She was pretty and kind, in an offhand sort of way, but Eugenia disliked being talked about as if she wasn’t in the room. She jutted out her chin. “I will never be a mistress to any man! Not even the king!” she added, to make sure they understood.
Lady Beale giggled. “Oh no, my dear, not the king I promise you!”
***
Eight days later, Eugenia was sitting in the walled garden, watching Molly ferreting for grubs, when the gate opened. “I see you still have that goose.”
She spun around. “Papa!”
He walked in, wearing neat but dusty clothes and holding his hat. His gaze took in the flower borders, the water feature, and the elegant windows of the conservatory. “Well, you have landed on your feet, my girl.”
“What has brought you all this way?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t you pleased to see your papa?”
“I’m glad to see you’re being cared for. Are you and Mary to marry?”
“Mary has moved into the cottage. Not as good a cook as you, but I cannot complain.”
“Mary is a good person. You are very lucky that she cares for you.” Had he changed his mind and wanted her back? A shiver went down her spine at the thought. “Why have you come to see me?”
“I didn’t come to see you, lass. I want to see his lordship.”
Her pulse throbbed. What trouble had he brought with him? “You cannot. Lord Trentham hasn’t yet recovered from his wound.”
He looked mulish. “I have some information for him.”
“What is it about? I’ll tell him.”
He scowled. “Thought he might make it worth me while.”
“Isn’t he paying you enough, Papa?”
He shrugged. “How about getting me an ale then. It’s been a bloody long trip here, and I’m as dry as a cask after harvest.”
“Tell me first.”
“You always was smart. Like your mother.” He joined her on the garden seat. “Mary don’t know how to read and write. Not like you, Eugenia. So I had to come in person. I feel some sort of payment is justified for my effort.”
“What is this information?”
“It’s about those highwaymen th
at shot him.”
“You don’t know them?”
“No. Not highwaymen neither.”
She stared at him. “Who could they be then?”
“Don’t know the answer to that, but strangers to the area.” Tilted his head. “I suspect they was hired to kill his lordship.”
Eugenia shivered. “Oh no! You must be wrong.”
“I reckon I’m right. If I can’t see him, you’ll have to warn him, Eugenia. Don’t want anything to happen to him.”
Of course he wouldn’t. It would put an end to his stipend. She felt guilty for being mean; after all, he had come a long way. “I will, Papa, I promise. As soon as his lordship’s well enough.” She walked to the gate. “You wait here. I’ll nip into the kitchen and get your ale and a snack. I shan’t be long.”
“You’re a good girl.” He stretched out his legs and raised his face to the sun. “Could get used to this.”
As she opened the gate, she turned to him. “And don’t think about taking Molly home. You touch her and I’ll see to it you don’t get another penny.”
He scowled at her and jammed on his hat. “You don’t trust your old papa.”
She hurried into the kitchen praying the chef wasn’t there, and fortunately, he wasn’t.
After her papa had eaten a ham sandwich and drunk two ales, he left for Woodland Farm on his borrowed horse. Eugenia knocked on Lord Trentham’s bedchamber door.
“Come.”
His lordship sat by the fire reading in the silk robe with the fearsome dragons, his hair appealingly tousled. He raised his dark brows. “Eugenia. I thought I made it clear you were not to come to my bedchamber.”
“I didn’t forget. But my papa has just been here. He brought news.”
“Pardon me if I don’t invite you to sit down. You will not be here long enough. What possible news would bring him all the way here?”
“It was kind of him, my lord.”
“Nothing your papa does suits anyone but him. Tell me quickly.”
She explained about the highwaymen. “Papa is certain they came into the area from somewhere far away.”
He stroked his chin. “I see.”
“He thought you should know.”
“Thank you, Eugenia. I’ll have an additional payment sent to your papa for the trip. But I don’t see that it’s of any interest.”
His cool manner revealed no alarm or even surprise at the news. “It’s not?”
“No. A rival gang setting up, perhaps, and putting your father’s nose out of joint.”
Eugenia frowned. She’d been unaware that he knew of her father’s occupation. But his lordship was so smart she should have realized it. “I don’t think so. Papa said he would never work so close to home.”
“And do you believe him?”
“Yes, I do, my lord. He would not bring trouble down upon our village.” She clasped her hands. “You must heed the warning.” She studied him with a frown. “You will take care?”
“You are not to concern yourself with me, Miss Hawthorne. I insist on it.”
She studied his face, noting the dark shadows beneath his fine blue eyes. “Not concern myself? But of course I do. You have been wounded and you are not yet well.”
“I don’t believe the situation warrants such attention, but I am grateful.” A smile tugged his lips. “I’m well enough. I plan to come downstairs tomorrow.”
She gasped with relief. “That is good news.”
“Do you get on well with Lady Beale?”
She caught her bottom lip in her teeth. “Yes. I am very grateful for her instruction.” Lady Beale was merciless in her quest to turn Eugenia into a well-mannered lady. She never grew impatient or cross, but somehow she made Eugenia want to please her.
“There’s little my sister doesn’t know about how to go on in society,” he said, a knowledgeable glint in his blue eyes.
“I’m eager to learn, my lord.”
“Good. I look forward to joining you both at dinner tomorrow evening. Go now, Eugenia, and thank you for imparting that information.”
She slipped from the room. Was there speculation in his eyes? Who were those men?
Chapter Seven
AFTER HOURS of standing still while she was poked and prodded each day, Eugenia was now dressed in fine clothes, her hair arranged in the latest fashion. When she studied herself in the mirror, she seemed a different person, her head swimming with new information. For the last sennight, she’d dined with the earl and his sister every evening, where she was taught table manners.
“One must never shout down the table,” Lady Beale said. “During the first course, conversation always flows to the hostess’s left. During the second course, the hostess will turn and converse with those on her right.”
“But why?” Eugenia asked.
“It maintains an orderly conversation,” Lady Beale had said. “Without everyone speaking at once.”
Eugenia frowned, perplexed. “But what if the conversation is more interesting over the table?”
His lordship’s grin deepened the dimples beside his mouth.
“Then you can listen,” Lady Beale said. “As long as you do not ignore those directing a question to you.”
How would she ever remember all these rules? The earl and his sister discussed a number of topics introduced to improve her mind. When they spoke of politics and a new bill introduced into parliament, it grew interesting, but when they talked about people she’d never heard of, it was not.
His lordship corrected her speech until she felt like screaming and was then cast down with guilt. Lady Beale instructed her on which spoon and fork to use with each dish and reminded her not to rest her elbows on the table. Eugenia learned how the host always sat at the head of the table during a dinner party, with the highest-ranking male guest at his right. There were rules for everything. A napkin was placed in one’s lap and not tucked into one’s collar. The hostess always served the soup, a course one must never refuse.
“Not like that, Eugenia.” Lady Beale took up her soupspoon. “Scoop it away from you and sip from the side of the spoon, and do not slurp!”
His lordship chuckled.
When the fish was brought, she was to eat at an orderly pace while not appearing too interested in the food and never with her nose close to the plate. Sauces were to be sopped up with bread.
“And please note, Eugenia,” his lordship said, with a sparkle of humor in his eyes, “one never picks one’s teeth or spits!”
Eugenia grinned. “As if I would.”
After dinner, while his lordship drank brandy, she learned to play a crafty game of whist or faro and improved on her game of chess, which she enjoyed very much.
During the afternoons, Lady Beale instructed Eugenia on the correct manner in which to address people, employ her fan, and how to enter and exit a room.
“I am thankful that you have a natural grace,” Lady Beale said. “I’m not sure what I’d do with a clumsy young lady.”
At her ladyship’s direction, Eugenia walked up and down, sat, crossed her ankles, and rose again, casting a wistful glance at the footman who brought in the tea tray with a plate of tartlets, cakes and cress sandwiches.
Lady Beale spoke of other feminine wiles his lordship need not know about. “Many men prefer to view their women as merely decorative, without many thoughts in their heads. The talent we women have is to keep them thinking that it is our appearance and our charm which intrigues them.” She placed a book on Eugenia’s head and gestured for her to walk.
“But that’s dishonest,” Eugenia said as the book fell to the floor.
“But of course.’ Lady Beale gave one of her tinkling laughs and settled the tome on Eugenia’s head again. “Chin up! Gentlemen have their secrets too. They may not lie to us, although some do on occasion, but they do tend to spare us the truth. It all works to keep the fascination in the marriage. They must never know quite what we do to preserve our mystery, and we must never inquire as to wh
at they do at their clubs, or where manly pursuits take place, or about a mistress to whom a wife must turn a blind eye.”
Eugenia swiveled and grabbed the book as it fell. “Oh! I would shoot my husband if he took up with a mistress!”
“Oh no, my dear, that would be most unwise.” Lady Beale laughed and beckoned for Eugenia to join her on the sofa. As she poured the tea, she grew thoughtful. “It does not always go smoothly, of course. Only last month, Lady Falcon stabbed her husband with a letter opener… but I digress.”
There was an undercurrent of something distasteful in this elegant world that was absent from the one Eugenia knew. Her papa was disgraceful, and very bad tempered when in his cups, but he never pretended to be other than what he was.
She refused to believe all men thought that way about women. When Lord Trentham called her intelligent, he did not seem dismayed by it.
She spread her napkin on her lap and took a tiny cucumber sandwich. It was like stepping into another world from the one she’d inhabited all her life. A leisurely, courteous world, where one did not have to worry about the next meal. Food appeared before her like magic and was always tasty. But she was still the same person inside. She visited Molly, and wandered in the herb garden, chatting to William about restoratives, and she talked to Vanessa and Jeremy, her new friends at Lilac Court. Lady Beale treated her with unfailing kindness, but she was so far above Eugenia that they could never meet on the same footing.
“We are soon to go up to London,” Lord Trentham said at dinner, leaning back against his chair, a crystal glass filled with ruby-colored claret held in one hand.
“Yes?” She had been admiring him. His superfine coat, moldered to his broad shoulders, was of a blue that matched his eyes, his white silk cravat a masterpiece. The butler appeared at her elbow and poured wine into her glass. In her opinion, too much wine was served. A variety for this course and that. Hers was watered down, thankfully, or she’d fall asleep at the table.
“But”—he swirled the liquid in the glass, the sharp planes of the cut crystal catching the candlelight— “there is the matter of Molly.”
The Earl and the Highwayman's Daughter Page 5