“Oh, this? It was in a very good cause, I assure you. Why are you so distressed?”
“Another guest will arrive soon, Niece. One you will not wish to disappoint.”
“A member of the local gentry? Surely—”
“Someone far more important than that. It seems he could not forget you, Eden, and has come all the way from London.” She smiled with barely veiled triumph. “The Marquess of Rushborough.”
Chapter 9
The Toppings arrived at Hartsmere within an hour after Hartley and Eden’s return, crowded onto every surface of their wagon.
Hartley had expected them. He nodded to Mrs. Topping as her eldest son helped her down. She seemed uncertain whether to curtsy to him or hurry past with eyes averted.
He had meant to make an impression on the Toppings, and he had succeeded. The small demonstration of magic he had provided for their eyes alone had unsettled them. They feared to offend him, in case his exhibition had not been a simple conjurer’s trick.
In case he was the very source of Hartsmere’s curse—and its restored good fortune.
The Topping girls, dressed in their white May Day frocks, whispered and giggled nervously as they made their way to the tables. Jeb grinned at him. He smiled in return, pleased that at least one of these humans did not fear him.
Some Fane had enjoyed being feared and worshiped. That had never been his ambition. He had wanted to be left alone, he and his beasts and forest. With Eden’s return to Hartsmere, he knew how lonely he had been.
He came out of his musings to the sound of footsteps and hoofbeats and rattling wheels coming up the drive. News of Lady Eden’s exploits—and Hartley’s private display—had spread quickly. Farmers and villagers left their horses and carts and cautiously approached the tables.
“She can’t be cursed,” he heard Mrs. Topping tell a new arrival, “not if he helped save our ewe. She came right to our door, all soiled from the birthing. Jeb saw it. And he said…” She lowered her voice. “He said her manservant healed the ewe. I saw the beast walk with me own eyes, when Jeb said her leg was broke. And then—you willna believe this, but the servant did sommat that scared me right out of my shoes…”
The two women moved off, and Hartley smiled with satisfaction. It would take little more to convince the dalesmen that Hartsmere’s misfortunes were over—and that the change was directly connected to Lady Eden Winstowe.
He glanced toward the house. Eden had gone inside to change, but she still had not emerged to witness her success. He signaled to Armstrong, who had just served a plate of mutton and bread to an elderly woman.
“Find Lady Eden and tell her…” He hesitated, realizing that he very much wanted to surprise her. “Tell her that her presence is urgently requested.”
Armstrong responded to his air of command without question and went into the house. Hartley circulated among the guests, listening to the talk and noting with approval that the tide was turning in Eden’s favor. People were beginning to enjoy themselves, to relax and appreciate what Eden had provided.
Though the day was waning, Hartley held the wind at bay so that the afternoon’s warmth lingered even as the sun began its downward journey. When Eden came out of the house, slim and youthful in a simple gown of sprigged muslin, the angled rays turned her into a gilded angel.
Others had seen what he had. Conversation dwindled, and faces turned toward Eden in curiosity and anticipation.
Hartley watched from a distance as she realized what had happened during her absence. A smile, unfashionably wide and quite inelegant, broke across her face.
She glided to the nearest table. “Welcome,” she said almost shyly. “Welcome to all of you. I am so glad you came.” She beamed at Mrs. Topping and her daughters. “You are enjoying yourselves?”
Voices murmured respectful thanks and agreement. They were still a trifle wary, but they no longer shut her out.
Eden moved among the tables, greeting each man, woman, and child by name. As she passed near Hartley, she met his gaze. Her smile altered subtly, meant not for the crowd but for him alone. Hartley moved as close as he dared without seeming too bold.