Yes, she was flattered. Yes, she still found him charming and handsome. But beyond that…
“I have awaited this day, Eden,” Francis said, moving to a chair much closer to her. “I had not realized how much I missed your company all these months—not until this last parting.”
“I am surprised that you wish for my company, considering my odious behavior toward you during the tenants’ feast,” she said gravely. “I must apologize—”
“No. It is I who owe you an apology for my boorish-ness.”
Eden lowered her gaze. “We were both… a little distracted, perhaps.” She looked up with a smile. “How have you been, truly? With the lack of diversions here in the country, you must be dying of boredom.”
“Boredom is a small price to pay for seeing you again.” He reached across the space between them and took her hand. “Ah, Eden. You know why I have come to the Lakes. It is not for the scenery, I assure you.”
“I know.” Eden made no attempt to embellish her speech with the usual wit and flattery. She hadn’t the heart for it. “I wish our reunion could have been under more fortuitous circumstances.”
He shook his head. “That does not matter. Eden, when you left me—”
“My husband was ill. He needed my care.”
“Of course.” He kissed her fingers. “You have such a generous heart.”
How little you know me, Eden thought. She gently withdrew her hand from his. “Would you care for some tea?” She moved to serve from the tray, leaning away from him.
Francis straightened and accepted the tea, sipping it while regarding her over the rim of the cup. Silence hung heavy between them.
“I know your life has greatly changed,” he said. “But I am in earnest, Eden. I would not have come here otherwise.” He set down his cup. “It is not usually my way to act so hastily, but I find I have no choice. I wish to make you my wife.”
It was said. Eden had expected it, but it still came as a mild shock. Her heart did not leap with joy nor her body warm with anticipation and relief.
Once again she saw Hartley, felt his kiss, heard his whispers in the darkness.
She rose abruptly. “Lord Rushborough—Francis—there is someone I wish you to meet before we discuss this further.”
He got to his feet. “Indeed. By all means, if it will set your mind at rest, dear Eden.”
She went to the door and glanced down the hall. Where was Donal? She felt a peculiar frisson of foreboding. A door slammed upstairs. Little feet came running down two flights, and Donal skidded to a stop just outside the door.
“Aunt Claudia forgot about me,” he announced. “Mrs. Byrne let me out.”
Let him out? Claudia forgot about him? Eden frowned. That made no sense at all, given her last conversation with her aunt. At least he had been washed up and dressed in his best clothing, appropriate to meeting callers.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, combing his hair with her fingers. “You are here now, and I would like to introduce you to my friend, Lord Rushborough.”
Donal tilted his head. “The man with the tight pantaloons and the tired horses?”
Eden stifled a laugh of chagrin. “Did you see him, Donal?”
His only answer was an evasive look. Eden sighed, took his hand, and led him into the drawing room.
Francis was waiting, his arm upon the mantelpiece. His first glance at Donal sharpened into a stare.
“Lord Rushborough,” Eden said slowly, “I would like you to meet Donal… my son. Donal, this is the Marquess of Rushborough. Can you make your bow to the marquess?”
A little shiver ran through Donal, but he remained still. The marquess was obviously stunned by the announcement, but he had the good grace to conceal it. The seconds before he spoke were less dreadful than Eden had expected. Her ambiguous feelings made it all much easier to bear.
“Your son,” Francis repeated. “Master Donal Winstowe?” His sentence held an upward lilt, half question.
God bless him, he was tacitly agreeing to accept any tale she chose to tell. She placed her hand on Donal’s shoulder and drew him to her side.