THE FOREST LORD By Susan Krinard

Eden was glad that she had not lost his friendship. His acceptance was tacit agreement that he would support the story she chose to tell about Donal’s background, and that he would not betray her confidence. He was even vital to Donal’s future, for he could be an influential sponsor. But any thought she had held of nurturing his affection, or his proposal, had died when she gave herself to Hartley Shaw. She could neither delude the marquess nor discard her lover.

Autumn seemed very far away. It might never come at all. The days moved with glacial slowness, just as Hartley had promised. Each hour gave up every joy it could hold.

The natural world she’d once disdained revealed its secrets one by one. She and Donal would meet Hartley near the wood, and the three of them dined by the beck among trees that shielded them from Hartsmere’s view. The birds and animals came to Donal, and soon they came to her as well, unafraid.

The only remaining mysteries lay in Hartley’s eyes.

Eden refused to pursue them. What the two of them had shared was like some treasure in a fairy tale, apt to vanish if examined for flaws. When he showed her a hidden wild-flower, or loved her under the stars, that precious magic created a timeless world of its own.

And if sometimes she caught him gazing at her with an unspoken pain, his brows creased in a frown, she pretended not to see.

The familiar rhythms of dale life continued with no regard for her petty concerns. Care of the flourishing flocks and fields kept the people of Hartsmere busy, and they revealed their contentment with much laughter and song. Such good fortune had come to the dale that Eden had little to do in supervising the needs of her people. Instead, she found many excuses to hold celebrations at Hartsmere, and farmers who had once regarded her with suspicion now openly displayed a fondness that compounded her happiness. Eden and Hartley were considered good luck, and almost every farmer found an excuse to summon them both for any project dependent upon good fortune.

As if blessed by the same fertility, daleswomen began to show certain signs beneath their aprons; Mr. Appleyard was pleased to note, with some diffidence, that most of the expectant mothers were married. A little persuasion brought to bear by the lady of the manor would surely uncover rightful husbands for the rest. Eden was happy to do her part and encouraged reluctant suitors by promising a generous contribution to a dowry or a wedding gift.

The farmers and their families who attended the simple weddings would never have guessed at Eden’s inner turmoil. She had told herself many times that one disastrous near marriage, and another ending in bitterness, had extinguished any romantic notions she had about such unions. But she watched the brides and grooms at the altar, and she envied them, nevertheless.

Claudia certainly did not let her forget the prospect of a most admirable future union. She showed no sign of being aware of Eden’s liaison with Hartley. Her dislike of Hartley was pointed, but she had no grounds to complain of his public behavior.

Instead, she threw all her efforts into promoting the marquess and joining Eden on visits to nearby landowners, squires, and gentry. Eden had proceeded well into her half mourning, and lacked an excuse to remain a recluse among those of her own rank. Still, she was reluctant to return to the world she had known, so distant and unreal.

Society could be spared the knowledge that she was living the happiest time of her life without the company of a single one of its members.

The dale’s fine weather and ideal conditions were so extraordinary that the time of sheep-shearing came early, and Mr. Appleyard suggested a competition among the clippers, both native and hired, to celebrate the harvest of thick wool that the rich pasturage had produced.

Eden was glad to oblige. She met with several of the dale’s prominent farmers to discuss the details, and the competition was set to be held at Mr. Topping’s great stone byre on St. John’s Eve. Two days before the event, Aunt Claudia was unexpectedly called to London to visit an ailing friend. She did not bother to pretend that she would regret missing the sheep-shearing contest.

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