Free The Earl and the Highwayman's Daughter by Maggi Andersen

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,