The Earl's Daughter Read online

  He opened his mouth to speak, but Sylvie was determined to ask the first question. “Why have we stopped?”

  “The horse needs a rest, and we've a long way to go before we reach Nottingham,” Peter explained. “We should spend the night here and continue the journey tomorrow.”

  “I did not realize this journey would be so eventful. And so... prolonged.”

  “We should arrive tomorrow,” Peter said. “And it would be helpful if you could stay awake. I don't think I could find your boy Robert's house on my own.”

  “Estate,” Sylvie corrected his choice of word as politely as she could. “Robert has a very large estate on the outskirts of Sherwood Forest.”

  “I hope he's not overtaxed by the Sheriff of Nottingham.” As he made his poorly received quip, Peter extended his right hand toward Sylvie. She stared at his fingers as if they were something vile, until he finally asked, “Would you like me to help you down from the carriage?”

  “Must we really stay at this... place?” The inn was situated in a quaint thatched cottage, which she thought was adorable, but her nose was wrinkled nonetheless. “This does not look like the sort of establishment at which a lady would stay.”

  “No one will know you, therefore, no one could possibly judge you. Your reputation will be safe, I assure you.”

  When Sylvie took his proffered hand, she was surprised to discover it was much softer than she anticipated. She expected the fingers of a working man to be rough and calloused. Peter helped her alight from the carriage, retrieved his coat—which she had discarded as soon as she woke—and headed in the direction of the inn.

  Before they reached the inn, a ruddy-faced young boy ran toward them and blocked their path. “Please, sir!” The urchin cried. His face was covered in splotches of dirt, and a dingy brown hat half-hung over his eyes, which were red-rimmed and slightly jaundiced. “Can you me spare some money? Anythin' at all? My mum is sick 'n we got no money to feed the baby.”

  Sylvie's eyes were wide, as if she was a bit intimidated by the child standing in front of them. But Peter stayed calm. He reached into the pocket of his breeches, pulled out a shiny coin, and held it out to the boy. “Here, lad. I wish you all the best, and I hope your mother's health improves.”

  The boy snatched the coin from Peter's hand so enthusiastically, he practically whooped with joy. “Thank you, sir! That's very kind of you, sir! I'll never forget you, sir!”

  The beggar boy waved, bowed, and disappeared as quickly as he came. When Peter met Sylvie's gaze, she looked simultaneously awed and confused. “Was that not one of the coins I just gave you,” she asked, “for taking me to Nottingham?”

  “Indeed it was. I figured he had more need of it than I did.”

  “That's very generous of you,” Sylvie said. “And perhaps a bit naive. The boy could have been telling a lie.”

  “I try to give people the benefit of the doubt. If his story was true, his need is greater than mine,” Peter asserted.

  “You're actually a very kind person,” Sylvie observed. “More so than I first believed.”

  “I appreciate that, my lady.” When they reached the inn, Peter opened the door for her, “In truth, I can empathize with him a bit. I've had to look after my own mum since I was fourteen.”

  “Truly? That is very young.” Sylvie tried to smile at him, but her eyes were sad. “And very noble of you.”

  “It isn't as if I had a choice, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

  Sylvie reluctantly followed Peter across the inn's foyer, where a busty woman of indeterminate years was standing behind a dusty counter. When the woman turned in Peter's direction, her two chins waggled. “Ello there, young man.”

  “Good day, my fine woman!” Peter exclaimed. He leaned across the counter and flashed his most disarming smile “Might you have a room to spare?”

  Sylvie wrinkled her nose when she heard Peter's exceedingly jovial reply. He never sounded half as pleasant when he was speaking to her.

  “Aye. I do. You need a room for you and yer wife?”

  Sylvie's eyebrows shot up at the ridiculous suggestion. “Oh, I'm not--”

  “We were only recently married,” Peter interrupted Sylvie before she could finish. When he slipped an arm around Sylvie's back and pulled her against his hip, Sylvie's eyes flashed with rage. “My Josephine is very shy.”

  “I could see that from the moment I laid eyes on her. She has a timid sort of look,” the woman unabashedly—and groundlessly—observed. “Aye, but you do make a lovely couple.”

  “What are you playing at?!” Sylvie hissed at Peter. “Your wife? Josephine?”

  While the innkeeper busied herself with a set of keys, Peter bent his head toward Sylvie's ear and said, “You're a runaway. It's better this way, so as not to raise any suspicion.”

  “I can't believe she would think I was your wife!” Sylvie continued in a whisper. “We are quite obviously not of the same class. I am dressed like a lady, and you are dressed very...” Sylvie raked her gaze over Peter's lean form. She could not think of an appropriate word, one that would not potentially offend him.

  “Ere you go, lad,” the lady said. She passed one of the keys to Peter, and he paid for their room with another one of the coins given to him by Sylvie. “I hope the room's to your liking.”

  “Good day, Madam.” When Peter bowed to the woman standing in front of them, he almost looked like a gentleman. Then he headed up the adjacent staircase and motioned for Sylvie to follow him.

  “One room?” Sylvie squawked at him as she ascended the stairs. “Surely you cannot expect me to share a room with you!”

  “You get the bed.” Peter glanced over his shoulder and smirked at her. “I'll sleep on the floor.”

  “I cannot... I will not share a room with you!” Sylvie insisted. “The level of impropriety is unfathomable! Are you trying to ruin my reputation?”

  “I imagine your reputation suffered a blow when you decided to run away to Nottingham to meet with your beau.”

  “Of course! Robert!” Sylvie exclaimed. “He would not want me to spend the night with another man. You're not even a gentleman! How can I expect you to behave yourself?”

  “Believe me, my lady...” As Peter opened the door, it groaned on its hinges. “I'm not tempted to misbehave.”

  “Are you saying I do not provide adequate temptation?” Sylvie brushed him aside and forced her way into the room ahead of him. “That is quite cruel!”

  “I only wanted to assure you that you have nothing to fear from me.”

  “Are you really going to insist that we share this small space?” Sylvie's gaze flickered over the tatty curtains, scuffed floor, and mysterious stain on the wall. “This very, very small space? I should demand a separate room. I would not want to sully Robert's opinion of me.”

  “What about your fiance's opinion of you?”

  “I care significantly less about Mr. Tonbridge's opinion, as I am sure you are aware.” Sylvie sat at the end of the bed and ran her fingers along the bedsheets, which she assumed would be itchy. “Robert is the man I want to marry. He is the only man I shall marry. Of that, I am certain.”

  “Mm,” Peter muttered a response as he peered out the window. He was absentmindedly staring into the distance, as if the current topic of conversation was of little interest to him.

  “I should not share a room with you before I have shared a room with him! The thought of it makes my skin prickle with disgust!”

  “Disgust?” When Peter turned in her direction, one corner of his mouth was raised, as if he was amused.

  “Robert is the only man I have ever kissed, and I intend to keep it that way.”

  “I can't imagine why you feel the need to tell me that,” Peter said with a chuckle. “It isn't as if sharing a room with me would mean my mouth would suddenly find yours.”

  “I know that!” Sylvie gasped. “I-I-I simply wanted to convey how important it is for me to preserve my virtue for Robert.”

>   “Well, I wouldn't want Robert to agonize over this, would I? I'll concede to your demands and find another room for m'self.”

  “I am very grateful to you for that. And I will repay you, I assure you!” Sylvie tried to smile at him, but he did not look particularly eager to return the gesture.

  “I am eager to see this man. This Robert.”

  “Mr. Lytton,” Sylvie corrected him. “You should call him Mr. Lytton. It seems a bit untoward for you to speak of him so informally.”

  “My... apologies, my lady.” Peter sneered at Sylvie as he slipped through the doorway. “Good evening to you.”

  As soon as the earl's daughter was out of his sight, Peter's shoulders relaxed and he expelled the breath he was holding. Sylvie Stafford was his better in every sense of the word, so he tried to be as polite as possible, but she definitely tested his patience.

  He told her he would find another room in the inn, but that was only partially true. After paying for Sylvie's room and aiding the beggar boy, Peter's money was dwindling quickly.

  Unfortunately for him, that meant he would be spending the night in the stables.

  IV

  “Why do you have hay in your hair, Hughes?”

  When he heard Sylvie's question, Peter could feel his fist clenching and his jaw twitching. Without a word, he continued to prepare the horse for travel.

  “Well...?” Sylvie plucked the errant hay from his hair and casually flicked it aside. “Are you going to answer my question or not?”

  “I'm not.”

  “Very well.” Sylvie crossed her arms and sighed. “You know, you are quite arrogant for a man of your station. And rude. Disrespectful...”

  “I tend to think you have to give respect before you're worthy of receiving it.”

  “I quite like that viewpoint. I believe those are the wisest words I have ever heard you utter.” Sylvie tapped her chin as she considered what he meant. “Unless, of course, you are suggesting that I have disrespected you in some way?”

  Peter drew a deep breath and expelled it with a grumble. “The carriage is ready, my lady.” He extended a hand and offered to help her inside. “We should reach our destination shortly.”

  “Not that shortly, I think.” When Sylvie took his hand, he gently lifted her into the seat. “If we were incredibly close to Robert's Nottingham estate, I imagine we would have arrived last night.”

  Without replying, Peter closed the carriage door behind her and climbed into the driver's seat. Fortunately, the rest of their journey was fairly uneventful, aside from a spider's brief appearance. Peter heard her screaming and quickly went to remove the unwelcome traveler from the carriage's environs.

  Within two hours, they finally arrived at Robert's estate. It was a towering red brick hunting lodge surrounded by dense forest on all sides. It was an impressive edifice, to be sure, and Sylvie looked as awed by it as Peter did. It was the first time she ever visited Robert in his regal retreat.

  “It looks grand,” Peter made a quiet observation as he helped her down from the carriage. “Very grand.”

  “Indeed. It does.” When she saw Robert, her entire body froze. He was standing in front of the house, chatting with one of his servants. His windswept blonde hair seemed to glisten in the sun, and his dark blue greatcoat fit him so well, it was practically molded to his body. Robert Lytton was truly the embodiment of a storybook hero, in addition to being the man of her dreams. He was so handsome, Sylvie could hardly move when she saw him.

  A realization dawned on her: she was the girl who got to kiss him. Robert's lips were for her. And that fact quite possibly made her the luckiest woman in the world.

  “Robert!” When his name flew from her lips, he immediately turned in her direction. As soon as he saw her, her beau abandoned his conversation, extended his arms, and ran to Sylvie's side.

  “Have the heavens answered my prayers?” Robert exclaimed. He took her face between her hands and gently stroked her cheeks. “Is it really you? Truly?”

  “It is!” Tears filled Sylvie's eyes as she beheld his beautiful blue eyes. “I am here!”

  “And you are...” Robert took her hand and gave her fingers a tender caress. “Not married?”

  “No. I ran away,” she confessed. “I couldn't marry him, Robert. I absolutely, positively could not!”

  When he saw a tear fall from her eye, Robert quelled it with his thumb. “I'm glad you didn't.”

  “Do you think I am a fool for running?” Sylvie's lips quivered as she asked the question. “Are you disappointed in me?”

  “No! Of course not, you goose!” Robert threw back his head and chuckled. “Why would you think such a thing?”

  “I may have gotten myself into trouble by running... and I may have gotten you into trouble in the process. Perhaps I am not worth it?”

  “Are you serious? You are worth it, Sylvie. I adore you. Nay, I love you.” Robert raised her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles several times. “The relief I feel in my heart is beyond description. I thought I'd lost you.”

  “You could never lose me. In a million years, you would never lose me.” When Robert's hand went back to her cheek, she leaned against his palm. Feeling his skin made her entire body relax. “Even if I had married him, my heart would have always been yours.”

  Robert pressed his lips against her head and murmured into her hair. “The world might try to part us, but I would rebel against the world if it meant that I could be with you.”

  “Oh, Robert...” Sylvie ran her hands along his greatcoat. She felt a bit light on her feet, as if she was on the verge of swooning. “It does my heart good to hear you say that. You have no idea.”

  Robert's lips found hers. Their kiss had Peter rolling his eyes and muttering, “Oh, for the love of...”

  When she heard the carriage driver mumbling to himself, Sylvie turned away from Robert's kiss and faced Peter with a smile. “Oh, Robert! I forgot to introduce you to Hughes. Peter Hughes. He was the man who very graciously agreed to take me to you.”

  “You have my thanks, good sir!” Robert exclaimed. “You are a gem among men.”

  “I hope that doesn't mean I'll sparkle and shine.”

  Peter's quip was lost on the reunited couple, and it was Sylvie who said, “I wasn't able to sufficiently reimburse him for escorting me. I'd hoped you would be willing to pay him for his time and services.”

  “Of course, my dearest girl. I will give him all the compensation he requires.”

  “Will you give me whatever I ask for?” Sylvie asked.

  “Of course,” Robert said again. “For you, I would strive to move the stars.”

  “Well then... might he join us for supper?” When Robert looked puzzled, she added, “Peter, I mean.”

  Robert's gaze swiveled back to Peter, and he squealed, “The carriage driver?!” His tone made it sound like an outlandish suggestion—which, of course, it likely was.

  “Yes. He has been very kind to me,” Sylvie said, which had Peter raising an eyebrow. It was the first time she had expressed anything other than disdain for him. “Before he leaves us, I would like to give him a proper send-off.” To Peter, she asked, “Will you stay for supper, Hughes?”

  “Only if a proper send-off involves cake,” Peter joked, but when he saw her downturned mouth, he added, “I would be honored to join you for supper, m'lady.”

  “While Peter's presence at dinner would be somewhat... unconventional...” Robert was wincing as he spoke, as if it pained him to say the words, “I will not deny you what you want, my dear. He may stay for supper, if that is your wish.”

  “Thank you, Robert. You are always so very kind.”

  When Robert offered an elbow to his lady love, she immediately coiled her arm around his. “It will be a bit strange to speak to you in private, as we are usually under the watchful eye of a chaperone.”

  “Well, we won't be entirely alone.” Sylvie bowed her head in Peter's direction as they walked. “Peter will be accomp
anying us, at least for a time.”

  “Well then... perhaps...” Robert sucked his bottom lip between his teeth.

  “What is it, my love?” Sylvie pressed.

  “I was hoping we would have some time alone. Later, perhaps.” Robert leaned toward Sylvie's ear and whispered, “Quite frankly, I am dying to kiss you. Again. And again...”

  Sylvie felt heat flooding her cheeks as the words of her beau echoed in her mind. “W-we... will... y-yes,” she stammered a reply. “Yes, that would be lovely.”

  As soon as they entered his estate, they were halted by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. The ornate spiral staircase was encompassed by an enormous motley mural of gods and kings, but the most breathtaking masterpiece on the stairs was the young woman descending them. Her fire red hair spilled over her shoulders, which suggested she was not prepared to receive guests. Her sapphire blue gown was dangerously low cut, revealing a considerable amount of her ample decolletage. Sylvie thought she had the look of a lady and a Cyprian, but she knew she would have to keep her opinions to herself.

  “Ah!” Robert extended a hand to the feminine guest when she reached the bottom of the staircase. When he kissed the back of the lady's hand, Sylvie could feel her stomach clenching with jealousy. “This is my cousin, Clarissa Overton.”

  “Mm. Yes.” The young woman's thin lips were pulled into a tight smile. “Your cousin.”

  “Clarissa... allow me to introduce you to Sylvie Stafford,” Robert began, “who I believe I have mentioned countless times.”

  “Indeed you have. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Stafford.” Robert's beautiful cousin bobbed a curtsy as she addressed the other woman. “Though I confess I was not anticipating the arrival of a guest. I am afraid I look such a fright!”

  “You look lovely,” Sylvie corrected her. “Far from frightful, as I'm sure you know.”

  “I am glad to hear it.” Clarissa turned her attention to Peter, who was hovering well away from his well-to-do companions. “And you, sir? What is your name?”