Kale agreed at once, and the three of them turned down the path.
As they walked, Eliza kept her hand close to Lemon, enjoying the steady hum of his purr. “What is it you do in the village, Mr. Kale?” she asked.
“I manage an inn on the far side of the park,” he replied.
“An inn?” Eliza’s voice warmed. “And how does business fare?”
He shrugged, shifting Lemon gently in his arms. “We cannot complain. Some days are good, others less so. But enough to live by. At least for now.”
Her brows knit. “For now?”
Kale glanced around, then lowered his voice. “You did not hear it from me, my lady, but there is talk. A rumor about parts of the park being torn down because of some new project.”
Beside her, Eliza felt Tristan’s head snap toward him.
Kale went on, utterly unaware. “They say it will bring trade, wealth, and fine things for the lords. But for such things to be gained, something must be lost. And who bears the loss?” He shook his head. “Not the aristocrats, that much is sure. The poor landowners, the villagers, they will all be left with nothing.”
Eliza’s throat tightened. She looked down at Lemon, whose tail flicked lazily as he purred on. It was easier to focus on the cat than on the weight of Kale’s words.
The cheer of the market pressed in from every side, but her chest grew uneasy.
The three of them reached the festival again. The crowd had thickened since earlier, and more villagers had gathered. She could still see a few more sellers and farmers trying to finish selling the rest of their wares and go back home. The sky had grown just a smidge darker, but she knew Tristan would not see it as a cause for concern, so she said nothing about it. Her eyes remained focused on the children who ran back and forth instead with no care for what was happening around them.
Tristan cleared his throat and looked toward the far side of the square, where a group of well-dressed men had gathered. Eliza followed his gaze, and her eyes settled straight on Marcus. The uneasy feeling rose in her throat once again.
“The lords have arrived,” Tristan said, his hand briefly brushing her arm. “I must excuse myself.”
Eliza nodded, though her stomach tightened. She watched him cross the lawn, his stride steady, until he disappeared into the crowd of noblemen.
Beside her, Mr. Kale let out a sound between a grunt and a sigh. “There they are. All of them gathered to make decisions that will fatten their pockets. Not a thought for the common man at the end of the day.”
His words pierced deeper than he might have known. Eliza’s chest felt heavy. She did not want to believe Tristan belonged inthat circle, planning ventures that made men like Mr. Kale feel invisible.
Before she could answer, a small tug came at her gown. She looked down to see a boy with messy curls staring up at her, his lip trembling.
“My lady,” he whispered. “George said my ears are too big.”
Eliza bent low, so they were eye to eye, and gently tapped his ear with one finger.
“No,” she said after a moment of mock consideration. “They look perfectly normal to me.”
The boy’s face broke into a smile. “Truly?”
“Truly.”
He giggled and raced back toward his friends, his earlier sorrow forgotten.
“You are good with children,” Mr. Kale noted, shifting Lemon in his arms.
Eliza stood, brushing at the creases in the front of her gown. “Seeing children gives me joy. Their honesty, their laughter… it is a balm for the soul.”
A brief moment of silence passed between them before the older man posed his next question.
“Do you have any of your own?”
She scoffed softly. “No. And I doubt I shall have them any time soon.”
Mr. Kale nodded, as though he understood more than he spoke. Then a tiny voice rang out from the other side of the park.
