Chapter 9

Lord Gareth had to think up a way of gaining the trust of the girl before him. Seeing that his condolence made her distraught, he carefully changed tact.

"Did you," he asked gently. "Go hunting today?"

Hazel smiled, this was a topic she understood very well. "No." She said shaking her head, and drawing his attention once more to her red – gold curls. "You see, I wanted to finish this quilt first." She smiled depreciatingly. "I think I've made a mess of it, Mama would not be happy." The last words were said so softly, she was barely audible.

"Was it your mother's quilt then? I hear she makes the best quilts in the whole of this village."

"You heard well." Hazel beamed. "No one can deny that she makes the best quilts. You should see the villagers clamoring to buy it from her!" Her perfectly arched brows puckered in confusion. "But who told you Mama made the best quilts? I do not think the villagers would like to talk about Mama, they do not like her at all you see."

Gareth studied the girl. She was right. The villagers had scrunched up their noses when she tried to talk about her mother, and it had taken his parting with so e coins, before he confirmed what he had already suspected since the day he had stared into her pale green eyes, eyes very much identical to that of the formidable Lord Blukett, and also, that of his weak minded son Thomas. A little more money had made the village talk even more, until he had all the information he needed to start plotting.

Seeing that the girl seated in front of him was waiting for a reply, Lord Gareth shrugged. "They talk about you a lot more than you think Hazel. I think they are envious of you."

"Envious?" She appeared even more confused. "But why should they be envious of me, surely I have nothing that they'd wish to have."

"Oh but you do. You have your beauty." Gareth said with affected nonchalance, and watched her cheeks stain. – "and then, there's your mother's excellent talent with the quilt, and you keep catching all those wild meat, especially in the midst of an impending famine. You see my little friend, I think the villagers would have liked you better poor and dependent, so they could feed you and pretend that they are very much better than you are.

"But," Hazel drew out, far from convinced. "I do not think they would have liked us dependent, they hate to be near us you see, and I really believe they hate speaking with me."

"You would be very surprised." Lord Gareth said, his eyes skimming once more across her heart shaped face, her large green eyes that mirrored every single thought crossed her mind, her rich Titan curls, the fullness of her curves, evident even from where she sat. "You'd be very surprised." He said again.

Hazel could feel that tightness in her throat again, the tightness she felt whenever Lord Gareth looked at her the way he had when he touched her lips. The feeling scared her, and embarrassed her. She could feel her cheeks heating again. "Perhaps, it is as you say." She finally conceded, then a little unsure, she added "Oh Lord Gareth, I do not know what is to become of me now."

Lord Gareth smiled reassuringly. "You see my little friend, I have been sent by your grandfather Lord Blukett, to bring you to the city of Wilpur. I am to be your legal guardian.

Hazel stared up at him, her eyes comically wide as she silently mouthed the words. "My grand father."