THE FOREST LORD By Susan Krinard

Donal looked at the troupes of children chasing each other about the lawn and then up at Hartley. “Do I have to play?”

“Only if you wish.” How could he blame his own son for failing to desire human company? “Why don’t you show Lady Eden how well you can climb trees?”

Donal’s unique inner light blazed to new brightness. “I will. Watch me!” He dashed away toward an oak with a low crotch perfect for climbing. Hartley and Eden were left alone in a pocket of privacy and silence.

“Your Beltane feast appears to be a success,” he said softly.

She met his eyes. “Why did you bring Donal out?”

“Are you ashamed to show him to your own people?”

She paced away, clasping her hands. “Lady Claudia suggested that he remain inside today, because he is not yet ready to face so many strangers—”

“Lady Claudia.”

She looked at him sharply. “My aunt is just as concerned with Donal’s well-being as I am.”

“She was the one who hired the governess. Have you made any attempt to learn if Waterson is helping Donal, not harming him?”

“Harm him? I would know. Donal would tell me.”

“Didn’t he tell you already?”

“Tell you what, my dear Lady Eden?” Lord Rushborough interposed himself smoothly between them and tucked Eden’s arm in the crook of his elbow. He turned a lazy glance on Hartley.

“I believe I asked you to give my horse a second measure of oats. Lady Eden, I fear that your servants take advantage of you.”

Eden slipped her arm from Rushborough’s. “I always left such matters to Winstowe,” she said with a distant smile.

Rushborough accepted the mild rebuke. “Are you training a new footboy? Hartsmere certainly requires more servants, and of better quality. Perhaps I may assist you in that regard.” He touched her hand. “I wish to help, Lady Eden… in every way.”

Eden looked toward the tree where Donal had gone. “Donal is not a servant. He is the son of my late cousin—my Uncle Fleming’s grandson. I am caring for him while my uncle is indisposed.”

Hartley observed her narrowly. She did not enjoy lying to an old friend, a man who had come to court her. Deceiving servants and country folk was one thing; deluding a peer was quite another.

Hartley stared at Eden until she was compelled to meet his gaze. Shame and defiance turned her eyes the color of tarnished silver.

Rushborough was not oblivious to what passed between them. “You are tired, Lady Eden,” he said. “Allow me to take you inside. Surely the farmers can spare you.”

“Perhaps you are right.” She cast another glance at the oak. “Hartley, please fetch Donal. It is too dark for him to be climbing trees.”

“He is well enough,” Hartley said.

“Lady Eden,” Rushborough said, “with your permission, I shall escort this insolent knave off the premises.”

“An excellent notion, my lord.” Lady Claudia approached from the house, the governess at her heels like an angry terrier. Armstrong trailed after them.

The two women curtsied to Rushborough. “I beg your pardon, my lord,” Claudia said, “but I have an urgent matter to discuss with Lady Eden. Will you forgive us… ?”

“Naturally.” He stared at Hartley. “I shall see that you are not disturbed.”

Hartley stood his ground. The pain surged in his head, and the breath grew hot in his chest. It was not yet time to end his masquerade, but he knew that if Rushborough provoked him further, he must respond. And the marquess was no match for a lord of the Fane.

“You have greatly offended Lady Eden and me,” Rushborough said. “Go the stables, gather your belongings, and be off this estate by morning.”

Hartley smiled. “I did not hear my lady give the order.”

Rushborough returned his smile, all white teeth and no humor. “Then I shall have to speak for her.” His hand shot out with surprising speed and grabbed the shoulder of Hartley’s coat.

There were any number of ways that Hartley could have used his powers to send Rushborough reeling, but none was as satisfying as the human method. He raised his bunched fist and drew it back to strike.

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