THE FOREST LORD By Susan Krinard

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Eden demanded. “A child is out there in the darkness, all by himself, afraid of—of—” She caught her breath, alarmed to find herself on the verge of tears.

Unashamed, Mrs. Byrne gave her a sympathetic look. “I thought it best to wait, my lady. All unexpected, a man came yesterday from Ireland with the lad. He said that the boy was to be delivered to Lady Eden, and then he disappeared. I didn’t know what to make of it, for I’d heard nothing of this from you. I took the lad in and fed him, but he ran off in the night. I sent men after him, of course, but they couldn’t get near him. He was like a wild thing.”

A wild thing abandoned without explanation at Hartsmere’s door. Why here and now? Who had sent him?

“You should have informed me the moment I arrived,” Eden said.

“I didn’t wish to trouble you, my lady, when you’d just come in from such a long journey. I’ve had the men looking since he ran away. I’d hoped he’d return on his own soon enough—when he got hungry, as boys do.”

“I saw him in the pasture.” And he ran from me. From his mother. She calmed herself and presented the story she had hastily concocted. “I could not prepare you for the boy’s arrival because I did not know he was coming so soon. Donal is the orphaned child of my late cousin, the son of my father’s younger brother, who inherited an Irish estate many years ago. When Donal’s parents died, my uncle kept him, but he had lately been ill, and asked to send Donal to me and my husband. But Winstowe died, and I forgot—” She paused, bowing her head. “Until today, when I saw him for the very first time.

“It’s that sorry I am, indeed,” Mrs. Byrne said. “I’ll send Armstrong for the other men at once, so that they may search for the child near the forest.”

Concealing her anxiety, Eden glanced toward the door. “If he is wary of the men, I must accompany them. I hope that he is not too much afraid of the dark—”

“What is this commotion? Eden, where have you been?”

Claudia’s voice carried down the stairs as she descended, and her sharp glance took in Eden and the housekeeper. She lifted her brows at Eden’s sodden skirt and the wet tracks she and Hindle had left on the stone floor.

“Donal,” Eden said, holding to calm by the barest thread. “The boy we were expecting—my uncle’s grandson from Ireland—is already here at Hartsmere.”

Claudia stopped with one foot suspended above a step. She gave no hint of what went on in her mind. Follow my lead, Eden willed her. Is it not my reputation you wished to protect?

“The child is here?” Claudia said, continuing to the bottom of the stairs. “How can that be?”

Eden smiled with relief in spite of her worry. “It is a wonder, after we had not heard from my uncle in so long… I do not know how he learned that we would be coming to Hartsmere. He left no letter for us. But speculation must wait. Mrs. Byrne, please gather all the lanterns and torches you have, anything to be used for light—”

“Surely you do not mean to go out again,” Claudia said, hurrying to her side. “You are overtired, my dear—”

“I will not argue. A child is out there, alone.” She grasped the door handle. The door began to swing inward, and she stepped back hastily.

Small fingers gripped the handle on the outside. The fingers belonged to Donal, who moved the great door as if he were thrice his age. New-fallen snow mantled his head and shoulders.

“Mother?” he said. “I’m hungry.”

Eden dropped to her knees before him, her eyes filling with tears. “Yes, indeed. I will be a mother to you from now on, dear child.” She drew him into her arms, and this time he went willingly enough.

How wonderful he felt. How soft was his cheek and how beautiful his face. Eden did not mind that he had obviously not bathed in several days and had become quite muddy. He walked right into her heart and made a home there.

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