THE FOREST LORD By Susan Krinard

Chapter 17

“There,” Aunt Claudia said with satisfaction. “The gown is absolute perfection. No one at Lord Rushborough’s house party will believe that you have passed your twenty-fourth year.”

Eden accepted the compliment with a bowed head and ran her hands over the expensive violet satin of the evening gown. Of those dresses and trappings that Claudia had insisted she purchase, this was the finest and had given her the greatest qualms in ordering. Its rich color was vastly unlike the blacks and dull hues of mourning. She felt almost naked in it.

But this gown, like the others, was a necessary investment if she was to be a proper lady of Hartsmere and mingle with her fellow landowners. Left unvoiced was her aunt’s assumption that such a rusticated situation was temporary, and soon the wardrobe would be put to much better use in London… when she was Marchioness of Rushborough.

So Claudia hoped.

“It is still a wonder to me that Lord Rushborough purchased die estate near Patterdale,” Claudia remarked. She began to undo the tapes along the back of Eden’s bodice. “He has no love for the country, and I can conceive of only one reason that he would do so.”

Eden bit the inside of her lip. She knew that her aunt had a large part in the invitation to Lord Rushborough’s grand house party, but she had not yet found the heart to tell Claudia that her principal reasons for visiting Caldwick did not include encouragement of the marquess’s suit. To the contrary. It was time to lay Rushborough’s marital hopes to rest.

She had another purpose in maintaining some connection with the marquess, however platonic. Rushborough’s continuing friendship meant connections for Donal, and those she must continue to establish, no matter how small her interest in resuming her old way of life.

Francis had made a considerable effort to accept her son. He had invited Donal to a children’s gathering to be held one day during the party, and offered to take him riding. Eden was determined to keep the marquess’s goodwill—if she could let him down gently enough.

“How fortunate that there was one decent mantua maker in Ambleside, at least,” Claudia said, obviously hoping to engage Eden’s enthusiasm. “I would have preferred that you had gone to London for the fittings, of course—”

“But I could not leave for such an extended time, Aunt, with so much to be done at Hartsmere,” Eden finished firmly.

God knew that she had been constantly busy since her declaration to Hartley. The harvest had come and gone, and October was nearing its end. The people continued to grow fat and merry and prosperous, as if they had never known want. All the neighboring dales wondered at the enormous crops of hay, the prize-winning ewes and tups, the vegetables lush and sweet as if from the soil of some soft southern shire.

Every day she found some new aspect of her duties as lady of Hartsmere—and as mother to Donal—to learn or perfect. Since the invitation’s arrival, she had worked to prepare her son for his first significant social appearance. Presentation to Rushborough’s toMnish friends—once her friends as well—would be an important first step for his future.

Every day was filled with satisfying work and friendship.

But every night…

Every night was Hartley’s.

Her joy had not fled with summer’s warmth. Leaves fell, flowers withered, and animals and men began to prepare for winter, portending the season of cold to come. But the looming year’s end no longer seemed the death of love and contentment. It was only the epilogue of the life she was leaving behind. The long, cooler nights gave her and Hartley more hours to spend talking, caressing, loving. He was by turns tender and wild and always concerned with her happiness.

Hartley’s speech after their quarrel over Rushborough had banished almost every doubt from her heart and mind. They had not argued since. Nor had he brought up her forthcoming visit to Caldwick.

He had also failed to return her avowal of love. Yet whenever they lay together, or walked in the wood, or shared laughter with Donal, she saw something in his eyes that told her she had nothing to fear in his silence.

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