THE FOREST LORD By Susan Krinard

She smothered a surge of jealousy. Why should they not admire? Hartley Shaw did not belong to her.

“Her ladyship was concerned that perhaps you did not receive your invitation,” Hartley went on. He raked them all with a scathing look. “Surely, if you had, you would be at Hartsmere now. She has already done far more for the dale than save your ewe.”

Mrs. Topping twisted her hands in her apron and avoided his eyes. “Well, you see…”

“Mr. Shaw, perhaps you would be so good as to fetch my cart,” Eden said. She smiled at the Toppings. “We shall talk again at a more convenient time.” She turned away before the woman could stammer an excuse.

Hartley took his time about obeying her, lingering with the Toppings while she walked toward the cart. She overheard a snatch of conversation and then a long silence. She was about to remind him when he strode past her in the direction of the cart.

Once they were on their way back to Hartsmere, Eden released the tight rein she had held on her emotions. “It was not necessary for you to berate the Toppings on my behalf,” she said tightly. “I shan’t beg for the affection of my people, nor do I demand it as a condition of charity.”

Hartley glanced at her. The near kiss had been supplanted in her thoughts by more recent events, but now it was if their dalliance had just been interrupted. She half feared that he might stop the cart and finish what he had begun.

Feared, and hoped. God help her.

He set her mind at ease soon enough. “The Toppings did not show it,” he said, “but they were impressed by what you were willing to do to save the sheep. It’s not every lady who condescends to help in so personal a manner.”

“I must have made quite an impression,” she said, plucking at her stained skirts. “And to think that I chose this gown so that I would look my best today.”

“Do you ever look less than your best?”

“Is that a question or a compliment, Mr. Shaw?”

His mouth turned up at the corners. “I merely observe that it would be difficult for you to be less than beautiful at any time, Lady Eden.”

His formality at this late date was wildly incongruous. “I would thank you, kind sir, but you exaggerate, especially when I have made such a close acquaintance with the fell and its woolly inhabitants that I might be one of them myself.”

“A sheep? Not you.” His lids dropped halfway over his eyes. “I am no longer sure what sort of creature you are, Eden Fleming. You are not so tame as I once believed.”

Eden laughed to cover her pique. “How distressing that you ever thought me tame. Had you seen me in London, you would not have made that mistake. No one among the ton thought me quite as dull as that.”

There—that was a reminder to both of them who she was. But he chuckled, surprising her anew. “I never called you dull.”

“I am gratified that you find me entertaining.”

“It has been many years since I was last so… well entertained.”

She flushed. “How fortunate that you found employment at Hartsmere, where life is so diverting.”

“Do you seek to put me in my place again, Eden?” The tone of his voice grew low, intimate. “Isn’t it too late for that?”

Eden was spared the need to answer by their approach to Hartsmere. Her handful of guests occupied one of the tables. No one else had come in the hour that she and Hartley had been absent.

Yet Eden felt less discouraged than she had before they left. Helping to save the ewe and lambs had something to do with it. So had Hartley’s company. The wild churning of emotions he inspired made her feel more alive than any of her London intrigues.

Reluctant to meet her guests in her current state, both physical and emotional, Eden asked Hartley to tend Copper and entered the house by a side entrance. Claudia intercepted her at the bottom of the stairs.

“Where were you?” she demanded. “I have been looking for you this past—” Her gaze fell to Eden’s gown. “I am quite beyond words. Have you any idea how ill you have timed this… freakish start of yours?”

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