Eden was relieved. Claudia never attended such events in any case, and she remained critical of her niece’s active participation in the affairs of the dalesmen, as if the farmers’ dirt might somehow rub off on her.
On the day of the shearing, Donal woke Eden before dawn with excited, almost indecipherable chatter about the coming contest. His sleepy nursemaid—Jane Singleton, Mrs. Singleton’s eldest—apologized, but Eden only laughed.
“Never fear,” she said, scooping Donal up and setting him beside her on the bed. “I am used to rising early. It is you, Jane, who look most in need of sleep!”
Jane smiled sheepishly. “No, my lady. With Papa home, and the new baby born, and Mama so happy…” Her eyes lit. “Samuel Topping is to be in the contest, my lady. May I go?”
“Is Samuel your sweetheart, Jane?”
The girl blushed. “Aye.”
“Well, then, I shall not deny you the pleasure of watching him win. Donal will come with me today.”
“Oh, yes!” Donal said. “But Samuel will not win.”
“It is hardly polite to say so, Donal,” Eden chided gently. “Have your breakfast, Jane, and I will bring Donal down myself.”
“Thank you, my lady!” Jane curtsied and made a swift exit, doubtless to primp for Samuel Topping.
“Mother,” Donal said, tugging at her dressing gown, “We are not supposed to lie, are we?”
Eden whispered a prayer for her own many falsehoods. “We must strive always to tell the truth.”
“Well, then, I was telling the truth when I said Samuel will not win. Hartley shall.”
As always, when anyone spoke his name, Eden experienced a peculiar fluttering in her stomach that spread throughout her body, leaving her both languid and invigorated. And very much aroused.
She was not surprised that Hartley planned to enter the contest. How could she blame Donal for assuming that he would win? If anyone knew what a sheep was thinking, Donal did. And so would Hartley. The beasts would very likely find a way to shed their wool and lay it at his feet.
“You may be right,” she said, lifting Donal to the floor as she got up to dress, “but it is more gentlemanly to pretend that you are not quite so sure.” She gave him the sternest glance of which she was capable. “You must not tell the sheep what to do, Donal. It would not be fair.”
He grinned. It was so wonderful to see him grin, which he did more and more often now that Ireland was but a memory. Now that he had a real mother…
And almost a father.
“I promise,” Donal said.
The mischief in his eyes gave another message, but she chose to take him at his word. She rang for her own maid, Nancy, who had proved adequate, if not yet polished in her duties. “Let us fetch one of your toys, and you may play here while I dress. After that we shall go down to breakfast together, and then…” She tickled him lightly under the chin until he giggled. “Then off to the contest!”
Donal hardly fidgeted at all while Nancy saw to Eden’s bath, fastened her dress, and fixed her hair, and he was most cooperative when Eden helped him put on his clothes. After breakfast, he consented to walk out with her like a little man rather than rushing ahead to greet Hartley.
Hartley waited for them by the dog cart, which she still used for visits to the village, even though Claudia had insisted upon the purchase of a modest but more fashionable equipage. The landau was one of several luxuries that they could afford because of the dale’s new prosperity, which permitted the payment of delinquent rents, added new tenants to fill the vacancies, and lessened need among the farmers.
But the dog cart would always hold a special place in Eden’s heart. Dalziel had responsibility for the landau, but Hartley continued to drive the cart because it enabled them to be together.
As Hartley looked up from Copper’s harness, she had to stop just to catch her breath. It was part of the magic that she still felt so, still anticipated his smallest touch after so many weeks.