The Forest Lord (29 page)

"You must learn to walk like a proper gentleman and not shame Lady Eden," Claudia said, striving to coax rather than scold. "Before you see her, you must wash off the stable dirt and change your clothing."

He looked down at his jacket and skeleton suit.
"Very well, Lady Claudia."

How very much like a little adult he was. She brushed away another twinge of regret. "Mrs. Byrne will help you. Let us go to the nursery, and I will call her."

Temporarily domesticated, Donal permitted her to walk him to the nursery. She made a brief pretense of looking through his clothes, and then moved quickly to the door.

"I will come get you when Lady Eden is ready," she said. She closed and locked the door and waited for any sound within.

For inscrutable and doubtless inhuman reasons of his own, the boy did not cry out or pound on the door. His silence was not entirely reassuring. Claudia hurried down the stairs and to the servant's hall in search of Mrs. Byrne.

The housekeeper was in the storeroom, taking an inventory of kitchen supplies with Cook. Both women regarded Claudia's intrusion with the same wariness as had the men outside.

I shall see you discharged as well, if you do not learn your place
, Claudia silently promised Byrne. "Mrs. Byrne, would you be
so
good as to go to the nursery? Donal is in need of a nap, and I do not wish him to disturb Lady Eden and her guest. Please keep him quiet upstairs for the next few hours."

Mrs. Byrne glanced at Cook. "Do you not wish me to finish preparing for Lord Rushborough's arrival? Lady Eden said—"

"No. I shall instruct the maids and Armstrong in what remains to be done. Please send them to the sitting room at once, and go directly to the nursery. Donal is waiting."

"As you
wish,
your ladyship." Mrs. Byrne gave a semblance of meekness, but it was not in her eyes or bearing. "Please excuse me." She stepped out of the storeroom.

Mrs. Beaton avoided Claudia's eyes and went back to work.
There
was one, at least, who presented no problem. Claudia gladly left the servants' domain and returned to her own. Now she must wait until the last possible minute and regretfully inform
Eden that she had not been able to find Donal.

If all went according to Claudia's slowly forming plans, the marquess need never meet the monster's inhuman son.

Eden
barely made it down to the drawing room before
Lord Rushborough's curricle pulled into the drive.

She smoothed her gown, pressing it to her figure as she gazed out the window. She had lost weight these past few weeks, and no wonder. Francis had known her in days of ease and plenty. What would he think of her now, with a trace of dreaded brown in her face and arms, and hair that wouldn't seem to stay in place? Their last meeting had not been auspicious, and she'd fled from him. She had apologies to make for her behavior at the party.

Did she want him to think well of her? Or did she want him to go away and leave her to…

Hartley rose in her mind as if he stood before her, grave and questioning.
Will it be him or me? Choose,
Eden. Choose
.

She had not chosen. She had avoided Hartley as much as possible while her thoughts ran in circles. Every circle returned to the same beginning: Hartley Shaw.

What she'd said about Donal was not merely an excuse to postpone turning her life upside down yet again. Today's revelation to the marquess would help her make the decision that would alter her and Donal's life forever. It was a great risk, and one she had but recently resolved to take. But she had discovered that even she had honor that could not be compromised. She could not live a lie with the man she married.

The marquess descended from the curricle, attended by his groom.
Eden buried her fingers in her skirts.

"
Eden! You will crush your gown." Claudia came to her side and followed her gaze. "Do not worry, my dear; you are lovely, as always."

"Am I?"
Eden murmured. "Where is Donal?"

Her aunt hesitated. "I could not find him. But I have asked Mrs. Byrne to send servants to search for him."

"It is my fault. I have neglected him too often these past few days."

Claudia patted her arm. "Set such worries aside, Niece, and compose yourself. The marquess is come."

Claudia took her seat and her needlework.
Eden did the same, though she dropped the pretense of pleased surprise when the marquess entered the drawing room. Had this not been planned days in advance? Did they both not know why he was here?

She rose and curtsied. Francis bowed over her hand. The three of them engaged in idle, meaningless conversation for the appropriate amount of time, and all the while
Eden listened for Donal's return. He would hardly make a good impression if he appeared the untutored farmer's son, but there was no helping that.
Eden had made her decision.

After an interminable period, Claudia made some excuse to leave the room.
Eden scarcely heard what she said. The marquess had been staring at her for an hour, and she probed and probed at her feelings as if they were a sore tooth.

Yes, she was flattered. Yes, she still found him charming and handsome. But beyond that…

"I have
awaited
this day,
Eden," Francis said, moving to a chair much closer to her. "I had not realized how much I missed your company all these months—not until this last parting."

"I am surprised that you wish for my company, considering my odious behavior toward you during the tenants' feast," she said gravely. "I must apologize—"

"No. It is I who owe you an apology for my boorish-ness."

Eden
lowered her gaze. "We were both… a little distracted, perhaps." She looked up with a smile. "How have you been, truly? With the lack of diversions here in the country, you must be dying of boredom."

"Boredom is a small price to pay for seeing you again." He reached across the space between them and took her hand.
"Ah,
Eden.
You know why I have come to the Lakes. It is not for the scenery, I assure you."

"I know."
Eden made no attempt to embellish her speech with the usual wit and flattery. She hadn't the heart for it. "I wish our reunion could have been under more fortuitous circumstances."

He shook his head. "That does not matter.
Eden, when you left me—"

"My husband was ill. He needed my care."

"Of course."
He kissed her fingers. "You have such a generous heart."

How little you know me
,
Eden thought. She gently withdrew her hand from his. "Would you care for some tea?" She moved to serve from the tray, leaning away from him.

Francis straightened and accepted the tea, sipping it while regarding her over the rim of the cup. Silence hung heavy between them.

"I know your life has greatly changed," he said. "But I am in earnest,
Eden. I would not have come here otherwise." He set down his cup. "It is not usually my way to act so hastily, but I find I have no choice. I wish to make you my wife."

It was said.
Eden had expected it, but it still came as a mild shock. Her heart did not leap with joy
nor
her body warm with anticipation and relief.

Once again she saw Hartley, felt his kiss, heard his whispers in the darkness.

She rose abruptly. "Lord Rushborough—Francis—there is someone I wish you to meet before we discuss this further."

He got to his feet. "Indeed. By all means, if it will set your mind at rest, dear Eden."

She went to the door and glanced down the hall. Where was Donal? She felt a peculiar frisson of foreboding. A door slammed upstairs. Little feet came running down two flights, and Donal skidded to a stop just outside the door.

"Aunt Claudia forgot about me," he announced. "Mrs. Byrne let me out."

Let him out? Claudia forgot about him?
Eden frowned. That made no sense at all, given her last conversation with her aunt. At least he had been washed up and dressed in his best clothing, appropriate to meeting callers.

"It doesn't matter," she said, combing his hair with her fingers. "You are here now, and I would like to introduce you to my friend, Lord Rushborough."

Donal tilted his head.
"The man with the tight pantaloons and the tired horses?"

Eden
stifled a laugh of chagrin. "Did you see him, Donal?"

His only answer was an evasive look.
Eden sighed, took his hand, and led him into the drawing room.

Francis was waiting, his arm upon the mantelpiece. His first glance at Donal sharpened into a stare.

"Lord Rushborough,"
Eden said slowly, "I would like you to meet Donal… my son. Donal, this is the Marquess of Rushborough. Can you make your bow to the marquess?"

A little shiver ran through Donal, but he remained still. The marquess was obviously stunned by the announcement, but he had the good grace to conceal it. The seconds before he spoke were less dreadful than
Eden had expected. Her ambiguous feelings made it all much easier to bear.

"Your son," Francis repeated.
"Master Donal Winstowe?"
His sentence held an upward lilt, half question.

God bless him, he was tacitly agreeing to accept any tale she chose to tell. She placed her hand on Donal's shoulder and drew him to her side.

"You must have many questions, Lord Rushborough. But I wanted you to meet Donal first. He is five years
old,
and only recently come from
Ireland. He still has much to learn." She couldn't bring herself to apologize for him beyond the barest necessity.

Francis looked at her and then back at Donal. He took several steps forward. Donal shuffled back until his head bumped into
Eden's middle.

"He is also rather shy with those he does not yet know,"
Eden added.

"Then perhaps we ought to let Master Donal return to his governess," Francis said. He smiled at Donal. "You should like that better than remaining here, shouldn't you?"

Explaining Donal's lack of a governess was not on
Eden's immediate agenda. It was remarkable that Francis sensed and sympathized with the boy's unease… or recognized that they could not discuss Donal in his presence. She realized, with deeply mixed emotions, that Francis had already risen to the occasion very well indeed.

"You may go, Donal," she said, "but please find Mrs. Byrne and remain with her for the remainder of the afternoon. Will you do that for me?"

Donal nodded, cast a glance at the marquess, and bolted out the door.

"I am sorry—"
Eden began, and stopped. No easing the way for herself with a show of embarrassment or false shame. She straightened and met Francis's gaze. "You may well ask why you have never met my son before, and why he is so wild. The explanation is simple. Until a few weeks ago, I did not know of his existence. And he is not Winstowe's child."

Once it was said, a peace settled over
Eden. She resumed her seat and folded her hands in her lap, waiting for Francis's response.

In spite of his kindness, he did not spout comforting platitudes. He regarded her as if he were being forced to alter his perception of her, and not necessarily for the better.

"Of course you do not know what to say,"
Eden said to spare him the struggle. "You have known me in Society, and you know my reputation for having taken lovers. But of course that was after I was married, and such behavior became de rigueur." She sighed, when once she would have laughed. "Let me tell you a story. When I was very young, before I met Winstowe, I spent all my time between Seasons with my father at his various estates. It was during my eighteenth year that the earl summoned me to Hartsmere. That was the year that my cousin Cornelius Fleming stayed with us."

In terse, unadorned words she told Lord Rushborough how she had come to elope with her "cousin" and then learned something about him that made it impossible for her to wed him. Cornelius Fleming had fled, and she had gone home for her confinement, only to be told that her son had died at birth. She did not explain how she had learned of his existence, only that she had sought him out and brought him to live with her as soon as she became aware of it.

"So you see," she said. "I made a foolish mistake as a girl, but I did not realize the full consequences until I found Donal. Winstowe was aware that I had… committed an indiscretion. He nevertheless agreed to marry me." She swallowed. "Donal is my only child. I love him. I intend to give him the home he has been denied."