She wasn’t sure she recognized the face she saw. The younger Eden had witnessed the incredible and fled from it, refusing to accept its reality. That girl no longer existed. And yet only a few months ago, at the stables with Hartley, she had dismissed Donal’s supernatural claims as childish fancies.
Could the woman she’d become face the possibility that the incredible might be a permanent part of her life… and of Donal’s?
And what of the marquess and those like him? She had seen Francis’s reaction to her son. If Donal could speak to horses and call birds from the sky, would his choice be to hide such gifts, or hide himself?
Can you ask your son to be what he is not? Are you not already doing so ?
Unable to compass the enormity of such prospects, Eden’s mind sought less oppressive worries. It struck her as odd that Claudia had not come to demand the reason for Francis’s early departure. Donal’s puzzling comment came back to her: “Aunt Claudia forgot about me. Mrs. Byrne let me out.”
Claudia had made clear that she thought Donal should not be introduced to the marquess until some indefinite time in the future, presumably when he had committed himself to marrying Eden. Had Claudia deliberately tried to prevent the meeting?
Is it possible that we have grown so far apart, dear Aunt? If Mrs. Byrne had let Donal out of the nursery, then she could provide answers.
Mrs. Byrne wasn’t in her sitting room, but Hester directed Eden to the stables. Eden knew that the housekeeper and Hartley were friendly, but an inexplicable conviction came over her that far more was going on at Hartsmere than she comprehended.
Mrs. Byrne sat on a three-legged stool in the tack room, and Hartley leaned against a stall with his arms folded across his chest. He was looking toward the door when Eden entered.
The housekeeper stood and acknowledged Eden with an air of wary expectation, as if she anticipated the questions to come.
“Mrs. Byrne, I wish to speak to you.” Eden looked toward Hartley, meaning only to steal a quick glance. But he trapped her with his eyes, and they were full of the same promises and questions they had held at the party.
Her mouth went dry. “Mrs. Byrne—”
The housekeeper followed her outside the stable. The very openness of the yard made it as discreet a place as any for Eden’s questions.
“Is it true,” she asked, “that Donal was locked in the nursery?”
“Aye, your ladyship.” Mrs. Byrne pressed her lips together. ” ‘Twas Lady Claudia who asked me to watch over him there.”
“And was this shortly before Lord Rushborough’s arrival?”
“Aye. But the lad insisted that he was to see you, and… pray forgive me, your ladyship, but I thought I should let him go to you.”
Eden clenched her fingers. “You did quite as you ought, Mrs. Byrne.”
The older woman nodded once. Eden suspected that she harbored the same suspicions.
“Donal should be in his room, Mrs. Byrne. I have told him that you will take his dinner up and perhaps read to him afterward, if it will not keep you too long from your other duties.”
“Of course, Lady Eden. ‘Tis no trouble at all.” The housekeeper set off without delay, leaving Eden alone in the stable yard.
Alone but for the man inside the stable doors. And she knew he was the one she truly wanted to see, to be with, to steal what solace she dared from the one man who saw her as she truly was. Whom she now believed loved her son almost as much as she did.
He stood just within the doorway, his face half hidden in shadow. He said nothing but took her hand and drew her into the room. It smelled of straw, clean leather, and horses. And Hartley.
“I have waited,” he said.
“I know.” She slipped free and took the stool Mrs. Byrne had left. Its uncertain balance seemed safer than the support of her own legs. “I have come… about Donal.”
If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. “You met with your marquess today.”