The Forest Lord (47 page)

He tried to stand, bumped his head on the coach's ceiling, and fell back into his seat. "No," he croaked, holding out his hand. "No, Eden. I…
I
was told that the child had died at birth."

Eden
became perfectly composed, her mind working like a machine made of frigid steel. If he spoke the truth, then only one other person could have told him that Donal was dead. Only one other person could have arranged to have a child spirited away and maintained the fiction that the tiny casket they had buried contained her son.

Claudia.

But why?
What earthly reason could she have for saying Donal had died? Why had she given him to common Irish peasants? And how had Spencer learned of Donal's existence, when Claudia had so hated
Eden's husband?

Papa had told Claudia of his devil's bargain and Cornelius's true nature. She must have sent Donal away for the very reasons she had attributed to her brother—to protect Donal from his father—and had feared confiding even in Lord Bradwell. Perhaps, having failed to assure Donal's welfare in Ireland through poor judgment or simple carelessness, she had been afraid to reveal her part in his abduction and was now attempting to make amends for her mistakes.

But that explanation left too many questions unanswered. It made Claudia into a liar who had pretended surprise even after
Eden learned Donal was alive, who actively discouraged her niece from seeking her son. It turned Claudia into a woman
Eden did not recognize and could not trust.

Donal was with Claudia at this very moment, but she had no reason to do him harm. She was still his great-aunt. But suddenly, urgently,
Eden wanted Donal safe and sound in her arms. And her thoughts flew to the man whose arms would never hold his son again.

Or hold
her
again.

A piercing headache started behind
Eden's eyes, harbinger of another bout of debilitating lethargy. Where had Claudia taken Donal?

"I did not know,
Eden," her father repeated, tears thickening his voice. "You must believe me. Where is…
Donal now?"

How could she begin to explain all that had happened since her father's disappearance? He did not realize how much she understood of what he had done in offering her to Cornelius, let alone that the Forest Lord had returned to haunt her. She wondered if he ever intended to tell her the full truth.

Yet the old resentments seemed petty and unimportant now. "He is with my aunt. We are to meet in
London and stay with Lord Rushborough's sister, Lady Saville. I regret that I cannot offer you hospitality, but I must—" She fought off a wave of weakness. "I must be on my way."

"There is so much left to say, to explain.
Eden—"

"We will meet again, Father."
After I have my son
.
"Will you… please send for my maid?"

"You are not well! Let me take you inside—"

"No." She braced herself on the seat. "I must… go to my son."

"Is your aunt in
London now?"

She cursed herself, and the unspoken words bounced like loose pistol balls inside her skull. "No. I was ill, and… we left Hartsmere in haste, because certain threats… had been made against Donal and me."

"Threats?
What sort of threats?
By whom?"

She shook her head, a mistake she paid for dearly.

"Claudia—"
Claudia insisted that he go with her
. "She was to take Donal… to a safe place."
Why did I let him out of my sight
? "She… did not tell me where."

Lord Bradwell's forehead creased with worry. "I knew that something was wrong, Eden, and I shall not desert you again in your time of need. I am not the man I was five years ago. Please allow me to find my grandson and bring him to you."

"H-how?"

"There was a place Claudia sometimes went when she needed a sanctuary, one she would consider quite safe. Perhaps she has taken him there. I will inquire upon the road."

"Tell me. Tell me where—"
Eden's head had begun to spin. Lord Bradwell gripped her shoulders to hold her upright. It was the first time they had touched in five years.

"I beg you to trust me, Eden. Please. You are too unwell, and I know my sister as even you do not. If Hartsmere is not safe, you must go where you can be properly cared for. I once had friends in the neighborhood—"

Trust you
? "No." It was becoming very difficult to think, just as it had been when she left Hartsmere.
"My son.
I must…"

He made some reply, but she could not seem to make sense of it. She dug her fingers into his coat. "Help me."

"I shall, Daughter." He squeezed her hand. "We will be a family again, I promise you."

That was the last she heard for a very long time. She drifted through a series of dreams—dreams of rumbling, constant motion, floating through space, muffled voices, and gentle touches. Faces passed in and out of her vision. Someone told her to drink, and she drank. She fought to wake up, aware of some urgent matter that required her at-tention, but the void dragged her down again like a deadly ocean current.

What finally set her free was the complete absence of movement. She felt a soft mattress under her back and blankets drawn up to her chin. She opened her eyes. The dim room in which she lay was not that of an inn, nor was it her own chamber at Hartsmere. She attempted to sit, but her head immediately warned her that such an action was most unwise.

"My lady?
Are you awake?"

She turned her head to see a girl sitting at her bedside, a maid too young to be anything but a tweenie.

"Where am I?"
Eden said. Her voice felt as if it had not been used in ages.

The maid sprang to her feet and curtsied. "You are at Lady Saville's house, my lady. You have been ill. I was told to watch you until you woke up."

Lady Flavia Saville's.
That had been where she was bound… when they left Hartsmere. Memory returned all at once, in perfectly distinct, vivid images.
The flight, her illness, the stop at the inn.
The reunion with her father, and what she had learned from him.
Her determination to find Donal.
And then the darkness.

"How did I come to… be here?" she asked. "What day is it?"
Where is my son
?

"I will ask for Lady Saville," the maid said. She darted out of the room before
Eden could blink.

Her body insisted that she close her eyes again, but she'd had enough of oblivion. Grimly, she rested her weight on her elbows and pushed up. She had managed to prop herself against the headboard when the door opened and someone entered.

"Oh, my dear!
You are recovered at last!"

Eden
had met Rushborough's sister many times and was grateful she need not stand on formality. Under the circumstances, it would have been ridiculous to try. She was by no means recovered, and remaining civil and courteous would require all her efforts.

"Lady Saville," she said, clenching her teeth at the pounding in her head. "I am sorry that I cannot rise to greet you."

"Tut, tut.
As if I would expect it! You remain where you are, and I will have food and drink sent to you at once. If you believe you can eat now? You have gone days without a bite! As I told Rushborough—"

"I beg your pardon,"
Eden interrupted, "but I do not even know how I got here, or what day it is."

"My word, of course you do not! You were quite insensible to the world." Lady Saville availed herself of the chair and leaned forward with earnest solicitude, ample bosom straining the bodice of her satin gown. "We were so very worried about you, my dear. Your
abigail
and coachman conveyed you all the way from Westmorland, at your father's request… Lord Bradwell! I had heard rumors that he was dead. Oh, I am so sorry, my dear. I am quite beside myself. Apparently you were ill during the entire journey, and of course we did what we could for you, but the doctor was quite—"

"I am grateful for your kind attention to my welfare, Lady Saville, but—"

"Rushborough came to visit every day, but you did not know him. You did not know anyone. That quack of a doctor insisted that you appeared to have taken laudanum. Can you imagine such flummery?"

Laudanum
.
Eden nearly bit through her lower lip. "How long have I been here?"

"You came to us three days ago. Your father left you a letter. It is here somewhere in the room—" She popped up and bustled to the escritoire, opening drawers. "Ah, here it is! Shall I read it to you, Lady Eden?"

Given the nature of her conversation with Lord Bradwell,
Eden dared not risk Lady Saville discovering such a letter's contents. Her father did not know that she claimed Donal as her uncle's grandson and not her own child.

"If you will permit me, I will read it myself,"
Eden said with an apologetic smile.

Unsuccessfully hiding her disappointment, Lady Saville passed her the letter. It was still sealed. Breathing a sigh of relief,
Eden waited until her hostess had stepped away.
Eden opened the letter. A thin strip of sunlight between the curtains provided the only illumination, just enough for her to discern the hastily scrawled words.

Dear Daughter,

I pray that this missive finds you in better health than when we parted. Since you were no longer able to give instruction to your servants, I have ordered Dalziel to drive you and your abigail directly to Lady Saville's, with a note to her of your condition and a request for your care.

I go now to find your aunt and the boy. I will bring Donal to
London and send him to you at Lady Saville's as soon as we arrive, no later than the last day of this month.

Have no fear, Daughter. You will soon be reunited with your family.

Bradwell

Eden
set down the letter and leaned back her head. Bless Lord Bradwell. He had been discreet, in case the letter fell into the wrong hands. He was wiser now than he had been.
Than
she
had been.

And had she any choice, now, but to trust him? Tomorrow was the day he had promised to bring Donal. If ever she had needed faith in another person—and in
Providence—it was now.

But oh, how difficult it was not to fling
herself
from bed and dash madly in any and all directions.

"It is good news, I hope?" Lady Saville asked.

Eden
folded the letter. "No other messages have been sent for me?"

"No, my dear.
Are you expecting one?"

"Yes. A messenger may arrive at any time."

"I shall instruct Hoskins to watch for it."

"Are Dalziel and Nancy well?"

"Your coachman is lodged with our servants. The abigail—" She pursed her lips. "She remained long enough to see to your comfort and then disappeared."

Nancy
, gone.
And the doctor believed
Eden had taken—or been given—laudanum. If
Eden's illness vanished with
Nancy's absence, she would know the source of her malaise. But
Nancy would not have done such a thing on her own.
Or willingly.

It all came back to Claudia.

"You are quite pale, Lady Eden," Lady Saville remarked. "I shall send up some nice tea and leave you to your rest. I do hope you find yourself quite well very soon; tomorrow is Rushborough's birthday fete, and he would so enjoy it if you could attend."

Attend a
ton
party? Nothing interested
Eden less. But she smiled and pressed Lady Saville's plump fingers. "I shall do my best. Thank you, Lady Saville, for taking such care of me."

"Tut, tut.
Rest now.
We shall talk later."

She swept out of the room, and
Eden discarded the mask she had worn for her hostess's sake. She buried her hands in the sheets and twisted the muslin into tortured knots.

Hartley.
If only I could trust you. If only you were here with me now.

But even a Faerie lord's magic was not enough to bring about such a miracle.