Chapter One
I walked along the road, cursing as I'd learned to from the stable boys. The new Queen had just put me out on my bum, with no last guinea and only the clothes on my back. I had nowhere to go and nothing to do. The only thing I was good for was cleaning and cooking...and no one in the area surrounding the castle needed a maid or a cook. I sighed, letting my eyes well up with tears of anger and frustration as my throat tightened and my ears began to heat up. So do I just starve to death now? Just as I had resigned myself to a long and hunger-filled death, a two-horse carriage came barreling down the road, and would've killed me right then and there if I hadn't jumped out of the way. With an exclamation of anger and disgust I picked up a rock...
Now, I knew I was making a huge mistake when I took that rock and decided to hurl it at the back of the carriage, but I honestly didn't expect it to actually make contact...or leave a dent for that matter. Within seconds of being hit, the carriage rolled to a stop and my heart jumped into my throat. First, I was a poor girl, then I was an unemployed poor girl, and now I was a dead unemployed poor girl. The person inside of the carriage was undoubtedly a noble, and nobles were not renowned for their kind hearts and understanding nature. Oh God, oh God, my mind kept chanting, I'm going to die in this potato sack of a dress and holes in my boots.
The first thing to emerge was a pair of long legs in well tailored trousers...great, a nobleman, then came the obviously aristocratic hands, and then a head of full, glossy chestnut hair. He was a young man then, probably somewhere in his early twenties. If he was spoiled, I had a problem...though sometimes the younger nobles tended to be a little more soft-hearted. He looked around the outside of the carriage, and then under it. While he peered under the carriage I took this chance to start running in the other direction. Unfortunately, he must have heard my footsteps because he caught sight of me and called for me to stop.
"Halt!"
I froze, heart pumping, yet paralyzed. As he walked towards me, eyes of the clearest cornflower blue set in a finely sculpted face came into focus. He was an attractive one, that was for sure. I took a deep breath and steadied myself for what could very well be the last moments of my life.
"Lovely day for a rock shower isn't it?" he greeted me, almost casually.
"Absolutely," I nodded and turned to walk away in the other direction.
"Not so fast," he grabbed my arm. I snatched it back, glaring at him.
"I may not be of your rank, but you don't have to treat me like a dog," I snapped before coming to myself again. Why did my mouth always say exactly what I thought? "Er, um...begging your pardon good sir...I've no control over my words sometimes," I tried to laugh feebly.
He glared back at me for a while before speaking again. "That coat of paint and that carriage are both brand new, thank-you for damaging them."
"It isn't noble to run people over in the road," I pointed out.
"Tell that to my driver," he shrugged. "I stopped my trip to determine if anyone had been hurt."
This was something new...usually carriages transporting nobles trampled you and then, without stopping, tossed one gold coin out of the window to pay for a funeral.
"Oh, well...no, no I'm not injured..." I trailed off.
"Good, I'll just be shelling out fifteen guineas for a new paint job, then," he grimaced and turned to walk away.
It was a few seconds before I realized that this would probably be the last carriage that passed me by. He was obviously rich, and rich people always thought they needed more servants to take care of imaginary needs. Maybe, just maybe, he would be my ticket to food and safety.
"Wait!" I cried. He stopped, but didn't turn around. "Wait!"
I ran towards him and skidded to a stop on the dirt road, panting lightly.
"Yes?" he quirked an eyebrow in amusement.
"I...um...I don't...you wouldn't happen to need a maid would you?" I asked pleadingly.
"No, I'm sorry, I don't," he said shortly.
"Or a cook," I cried. "I can cook anything, just show me a recipe!"
He sighed and looked away. "What is your name?"
"Oribelle Roberts," I answered, still pleading with my eyes. I hated to beg, but I had no other choice.
"Ms. Roberts--"
"I don't care what the pay is, I'll take anything!"
"Ms. Roberts--"
"I don't mind doing dirty work!"
"Ms. Roberts!"
I fell silent; I had never been addressed as "Miss" anything. It was always, "you girl," or "gypsy girl."
"I am not in need of any more help around my home." My face promptly fell. "But I do own a very successful bed and breakfast, and we do need another cook."
"Really?" I looked back up at him with shining eyes.
"Yes, you may accompany me in my carriage; I was in the process of returning to The Eve from a friend's estate."
"The Eve?"
"I'm sorry; The Eve is my bed and breakfast."
Making our way to his carriage, I winced at the very obvious dent and paint scuff my rock throwing had caused.
"I didn't actually mean to hit your carriage; I was throwing around it, not actually at it."
"You meant to hit it."
"You're right, I did."
"See that nothing of the sort happens again," he looked at me sternly. I laughed inwardly. He must have copied that facial expression from his father or grandsire, for it did not fit him at all. His eyes were made for smiling.
"I don't even know your name, sir," I blurted.
"My apologies, I never gave it?"
"Nay."
"I am Sir Lucien Foxwood," he introduced himself as we reached the carriage itself.
The doorman coughed when he caught sight of me, turning up his nose as if to suggest that opening a door for me was the most disgraceful thing he could ever do. My face burned as I thought of how I must look in my dress worn bare at the elbows and stained around the hem with dirt; the boots on my feet were near the point of falling apart. He glanced at Sir Foxwood, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Looking at me as if I were some insect he would very much like to crush, he opened the door and held out his hand to me.
"What?" I asked, rudely.
"Do you require my assistance in entering the carriage?" he responded in clipped voice, looking down his nose at me.
"No I do not require assistance in entering the carriage," I mocked him, brushing past to hoist myself into the velvet-covered interior.
I heard Sir Foxwood sigh behind me and rolled my eyes. So what if I had been rude? I was often reprimanded in the kitchens for my "attitude problem" and "lack of respect." The way I saw it, people just did not know how to appreciate a little bit of honesty. Settling myself in, I waited for Sir Foxwood to finish his chat with the doorman. He came in to sit opposite me.
"Just who are you?" he asked.
"I am Oribelle Roberts, daughter of Queen Katherine and the privateer Sir Bellamy Roberts," I answered. As I knew he would, he choked on laughter threatening to bubble forth from his mouth.
"Daughter or Queen Katherine--?"
"And the privateer Sir Bellamy Roberts, yes."
"I'm sorry, I'm finding this quite unbelievable at the moment."
The carriage lurched to a start.
"Which is probably why no one ever knew."
"You expect me to believe Queen Katherine had an illegitimate daughter by a pirate?"
"Privateer."
"No matter. I will not employ a liar, Ms. Roberts, so unless you can convince me otherwise, I will put you out on the road again."
"Call me anything but a liar, I tell the truth!" I said angrily, and then calmed myself. This was the only person that was providing me with shelter, work and pay, and I had to admit that my story was hard to believe. I sighed. "It's like this; my mother was a young woman, just looking for fun when she married the King..."
I recounted the story of my life from when I was born to the moment the new queen, Queen Griselda put me out. Sir Foxwood's eyes glazed over once or twice, but I knew he would believe me. There was no way I could have fabricated such a story on the spot.
"...So that is when I threw the rock at your carriage. I am sorry...it wasn't the best day for either of us," I finished.
He nodded silently. "You have my trust in your honesty. Break it, and I will not have any space left for you in my establishment."
"Yes, sir," I said softly, and then I looked up. "Where is The Eve?"
"It overlooks the beaches on the coast of Port Chelsea. It was my great-great grandsire's estate. He was a flower merchant and grew some of the most beautiful flowers right on the grounds. We've kept all of the original gardens since transforming it into an inn."
"Port Chelsea? I've never been outside of the castle. Are we close?" I questioned, peeking out of the window. "I see water!"
Sir Foxwood chuckled at the childish rapture on my face, and I flushed, my honey cheeks staining with rose.
"I've never seen that much water," I murmured, with less excitement in my voice.
"That is the Atlantic Ocean, we're nearing Port Chelsea."
"I wonder if my father is sailing in these waters..."
"You...have never seen him, correct?"
"He was only at the castle that one night...when I was younger, I used to hate Christelle. I used to think that she should share my rag or I should share her crown...I know things are too complicated for that now, and I know the world isn't just. Things don't end perfectly, like a fairytale."
"There is always justice in the world, sometimes you just have to create it for yourself."
I sighed and continued looking out of the window. "We should be arriving soon, you said?"
"We've an hour left, I suppose."
"Mind you if I rest my eyes?"
"Nay, Ms. Roberts. I will wake you upon our arrival."
"Thank you, Sir Foxwood...for everything."
My eyes closed as I heard him respond with "you are welcome," and I leaned my head against a quilted, burgundy velvet wall and slept.