The Earl and the Highwayman's Daughter by Maggi Andersen

Eugenia. But now, it’s almost time for luncheon.”
    Eugenia hurried up to her bedchamber to tidy herself. She was inordinately pleased that Lord Trentham thought she danced well. She hoped he would partner her at the ball, particularly for a waltz.
    Coming downstairs, she met Lady Beale in the hall.
    “Ah here you are, Eugenia.” They entered the dining room together. “Did you find Monsieur Dubois’ instruction helpful?”
    “He was most encouraging.”
    “She dances well.” Lord Trentham waited as a footman seated them at the table.
    Lady Beale raised her eyebrows. “You watched her?”
    “The last few minutes.” He smiled at Eugenia. “Eugenia doesn’t care for the waltz.”
    “Ah the waltz! It can be such a romantic dance with the right partner. My dear girl, I promise you will like it when you dance with a handsome young beau.” She turned to her brother. “I received a letter from Beale Park this morning.”
    “How do things go on without you?”
    “The children are in good health. I approve of this new governess’ firm attitude. The last was far too indulgent.”
    Eugenia always tried to remain silent when they spoke of family matters, but she couldn’t resist. “Do you have many children, Lady Beale?”
    “Three, my dear. Two sons, Aubrey and William, and a daughter, Sophie.”
    “I should very much like to meet them. I’m fond of children.”
    Lady Beale’s eyes widened. “I’m afraid that’s impossible. They live in Surrey and seldom come to London.”
    Eugenia thought it odd that the children did not live with their parents. She wondered if they missed their mother. She’d missed her Mama sorely after she passed away. Life had been peaceful when she was alive. Papa had worked on the farm. He’d begun his nightly pursuits after Mama was gone.
    “This afternoon, we shall visit the modiste.” Lady Beale selected a slice of beef from the platter the footman offered. “The final fitting for your ball gown. The emeralds will sit well on it, Brendan, but I do wish you would reconsider. Eugenia could wear my pearls, far more appropriate for a young lady.”
    Lord Trentham frowned. “Leave such matters to me, Clo.”
    Eugenia stared at him. Why did she have to wear those jewels? She pushed away the ungrateful thought that the man she idolized might prove to have feet of clay. Her stomach churned, and she couldn’t eat a bite.
    After they returned from the dressmaker, needing to be alone, Eugenia slipped into the library. From the shelf, she took Shakespeare’s play, The Merchant of Venice , which she’d been attempting to read whilst in the country, and curled up in a corner of the sofa.
    Lord Trentham appeared in the doorway. “Back from the dressmaker I see.”
    She watched his graceful walk across the room. He poured himself a brandy and came to sit in a leather chair opposite her. “Are you pleased with the gown?”
    “It’s beautiful.” She fingered the page. “Why do you wish me to wear emeralds?”
    “Why?” He laughed. “Would any young lady ask such a thing? Don’t you want to wear them?”
    She shrugged. “I don’t care for jewels.”
    He put his glass down on the table. “You’ve never seen them.” He rose and went to the fireplace. The painting hanging over the mantel swung back on a hinge, revealing a small door. Lord Trentham unlocked it with a key attached to his fob chain. Removing a silver jewel box from the cupboard, he handed it to her. “Open it.”
    When she did as he asked, she caught her breath at the magnificent emeralds, like exotic flowers with diamond-encrusted petals. The dainty piece nestled in a bed of white satin. As she drew the necklace out, the diamonds caught the light. “How beautiful.”
    He leaned over and took the necklace from her. “Are they not? Come to the mirror.”
    Eugenia followed him to the ornate gilt mirror on the wall. Lord Trentham stood behind her, reached forward, and placed the emeralds around her throat. She