Eden laughed. Was every child so full of surprises, or was Donal simply different? She sobered immediately, remembering his reckless unconcern in facing Atlas. All the time she had been rushing about Society like a madwoman, Donal had been alone. She knew he had been alone, left to make his own way in learning about the world. Someone must teach him the difference between friendly beasts and dangerous ones.
Shaw could teach him.
Trust Donal with a stranger? Yet Shaw had virtually saved Donal’s life, and the boy had taken to him quickly. Donal needed a man to look up to—
What he needed was a father. A father—a man to fill a father’s role—of blood and rank. Donal could never learn the ways of Society, or of his true place in it, from a servant.
Eden found herself at the stables with no memory of the walk. Donal was perched atop Juno, balanced on Eden’s sidesaddle, while Hartley Shaw held him in place with a firm hand. The boy was smiling as he so seldom did, delighted with his position above the rest of the world. Shaw smiled as well, with what Eden judged was genuine warmth.
Her heart clenched. He likes children. Donal already adores him. But as she approached, the smile left Shaw’s face.
Even the most formidable dowagers and high-sticklers of the ton had not intimidated Eden as this servant did. Not a single one of the most handsome, witty gallants in Town had been capable of making her breathless with a glance.
Hartley Shaw had that power.
Eden faltered, astonished at her instinctive desire to flee. She drew in a steadying breath, reminded herself who she was, and continued on with the same air of confident nonchalance she wore in the finest drawing rooms of London.
“Mr. Shaw,” she said briskly, “My son will escort me into the dale. If you would be so good as to prepare the dog cart…”
Shaw lifted Donal down from Juno’s back, keeping his hand lightly on the boy’s shoulder. He glanced up at the overcast sky.
“I would not advise it, your ladyship,” he said. “The weather is about to turn, and the roads are bad.”
The sky looked no different to her than it had all morning, and Eden was certain it wasn’t cold enough to snow. “We will not be going far. When you have finished with the cart, see that Juno gets a little exercise. She expected an outing today.”
Shaw’s gaze was as sharp as a saber. “You are concerned for the feelings of your horse, Lady Eden?”
She met his appalling insolence with a smile. “I accord my mare at least as much consideration as I do the servant who looks after her.”
To her surprise, he neither took the unsubtle hint nor offered up another insult. “Yes,” he said. He held out his hand, and Juno rested her muzzle in the cup made of his fingers. “She tells me that you care for her.”
Eden laughed at his absurdity. “I am glad to hear that she gives such a favorable character. It seems that she approves of you as well, Mr. Shaw.”
“Juno likes Hartley,” Donal said. “She told me so.”
The amusement drained out of Eden in a rush. “Donal, come to me.”
He did as she asked and gazed up at her with that heart-breakingly grave little face. She knelt before him.
“Did you say that the horse spoke to you, Donal?”
“Aye. She tells me all kinds of things.”
Eden stanched the panic that flooded her throat. “Is this a game Mr. Shaw taught you?”
Donal glanced back at Shaw with an enigmatic smile. “He didn’t teach me. But he can do it, too. He tells me what he hears.”
Clutching Donal’s thin shoulders in her hands, Eden suppressed the longing to run to Mrs. Byrne and beg for her reassurance that such absurd fancies were normal in a child of Donal’s age and background. He had, after all, come from a country where the basest superstition was commonplace. Was it any wonder that he should believe in fairy tales?
Shaw had no such excuse. He had at least some education. And he had no business encouraging such notions in her son.