Caroline and the Captain: A Regency Novella (12 page)

Her father changed his tone. “So, what will you offer me now? You’ve done me a great disservice, milord,” he said in a cajoling voice. “You’ve dishonored the daughter of a duke. I am a reasonable man, but you can’t put her to work in your kitchens.”

“I agree.” His lordship nodded thoughtfully.

Eugenia, arms akimbo, glared at them both. “I am not a prize pig to be haggled over at market.”

Lord Trentham’s mouth stretched in an attractive smile. “Indeed you are not.”

Growing impatient, her father glared. “What say you, milord?”

“I agree to take your daughter under my protection as my ward, Mr. Hawthorne.”

Her father’s eyes became owlish. She almost laughed. He hadn’t expected that. He stalked around the room, before whirling around to face his lordship. “That won’t do! Who will look after me house then, I ask you?”

“I will settle an annuity on you.”

A whoosh of air escaped her father’s lips. He sat down hard on the stool.

“On certain conditions,” his lordship continued in his beautiful, mellow voice. “You must sign away any future rights to your daughter.” He held up a hand as her father began to protest. “And make no further mention of her in connection with yourself. If you do, the money will cease.”

The earl regarded her calmly. Her heart thudded. He was clever, this man. What did he really plan for her? “I won’t be your mistress, milord.” She’d rather take her chances in the world than that. She’d heard too much that shocked her when she worked in the kitchens in Canterbury.

“Be quiet, daughter! How much do you have in mind, milord?” her father asked, having gained his breath along with his understanding of the matter in hand.

“Enough to make you comfortable for the rest of your days. You can hire more than one servant to care for you.”

“Your ward you say?” Her father sniggered. “She’s a beauty is she not? I could have married her off many times since she turned sixteen. I refused—wanted something special for ’er.”

She glared at him. Something special for him more like.

“My ward, Mr. Hawthorne.”

“Done!” Papa jumped up and brushed his hands together. “Don’t stand there gawking. Pour us an ale, Eugenia. This is a celebration.”

Sold to the highest bidder, she thought. She was so tired of her wretched existence and her father’s unpredictable nature, she’d go almost anywhere. But was his lordship a good or a bad man? And what did he really want with her? He hadn’t said. A shiver passed through her as she poured the ale into tankards. She glanced around the humble cottage that had been her home since her father brought her here years ago. She would miss her garden—and what about Molly? She firmed her lips. She would not leave without her goose. Five minutes after she left Molly would be in the pot.

Release date to be advised:
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