Sir Erebus was dressed in a gray coat and cream breeches, his dark hair was perfectly combed, and there were costly rings on his fingers. The bunch of seals dangling from his fob would have pleased Mr. Brummell himself, and he looked ready for a leisurely lounge down fashionable Bond Street, rather than a social call at a country house. The only thing to spoil the effect, Anthea noted with satisfaction, was the black eye he sported as a result of his encounter with Jovian’s fist.
The owner of said fist was all smiles as he went to greet his loathed caller. “Ah, Lethe. Hic. Good G-God, whatever happened to your eye?”
Sir Erebus’s nostrils flared a little. “Are you implying my injury is new to you?”
Jovian’s puzzled frown was exquisite. “Of course it’s n-new to me. What happened?”
“I fell from my horse.”
“Nasty brute that h-hunter of yours. You really ought to get something more r-reliable. Hic.”
Anthea had to fix her eyes on the floor to stop a smile, because Sir Erebus really had no idea how deftly he was being twitted.
Everyone—except Lady Letty, of course, because she had no idea that anything was afoot—was relieved when Sebbriz and the hare withdrew, leaving Sir Erebus alone with his victims and foes. The continued presence of his supporters would have made the first part of Jovian’s plan difficult, if not impossible. As it was, the conspirators found themselves with a perfect opportunity to perform their deed.
Jovian nodded discreetly at Huw, and the gardener moved away toward the pomegranate tree, pretending to commence a general inspection of the orangery. He made much of examining a wall and part of the floor, then shifted some pots to look behind them. His movements were slow and methodical and did not attract any undue attention from Sir Erebus, who now found himself the object of Lady Letitia’s gushing greetings.
“Why, Sir Erebus, how delightful to see you again! And how splendid you look! I vow your togs put the duke to shame!” There was nothing forced about her delight, for she had drunk the kykeon the night before and this morning had taken tea laced with pomegranate. She meant what she said.
“Lady Letitia.” Sir Erebus sketched a bow, but his dark eyes fixed upon Anthea. “We meet again, Lady Anthea,” he said softly.
But Anthea was so preoccupied with whether or not Huw would succeed that she quite forgot what was expected of her. Jovian issued a sharp reminder. “Anthea!”
She gave a guilty start and hastily mustered what she hoped was a warm and welcoming smile. “Forgive my distraction, Sir Erebus, but I fear I am rather overwhelmed by the honor you do me.”
“Honor?”
“In wishing me to be your wife.”
“Ah, yes. But how could I not wish to marry you, Lady Anthea? You are all that is perfect, and you have charmed these eyes from the moment they saw you.”
It is my inheritance that charms you, you monster, she thought, but all he saw was the false and foolish smile on her soft lips as she answered, “I—I cannot believe that I am to know such happiness.”
“You are the delight of my heart, Lady Anthea,” he replied smoothly.
“I’m flattered, sir.”
“I have brought a small token of my esteem,” he said, and took the locket from inside his coat.
She evinced pleasure. “Why, how beautiful it is!”
Lady Letitia was in full agreement. “A most exquisite trinket, Sir Erebus. You are clearly a man of superb taste.”
“I am when it comes to my choice of bride,” he replied smoothly, then addressed Anthea. “May I place it around your neck, my lady?”
“Yes . . . of course.” Anthea hated the touch of his fingers against her skin, and all she could think was that the locket now contained a lock of poor Corinna’s hair. They shouldn’t be standing around in polite conversation with Hades; they should be forcing him to surrender Persephone!
The locket rested coldly against her throat as she smiled again. “It is truly lovely, Sir Erebus. I will be sure to treasure it always. My only regret...”
“Regret?” he said quickly.
“Yes. I wish my stepsister were here too.”
“Ah, yes.”
“Corinna and I may not have known each other for very long, but we have become very close.”
“A family tie can overcome all else,” he murmured.
“Indeed so.”
Jovian spoke silently to her. Suggest a little perambulation to the end of the orangery and back.
She smiled at Sir Erebus. “Shall we stroll a little?”
“Why, of course.” He offered her his arm, and they walked slowly toward the far end of the orangery, away from the pomegranate tree.
Lady Letitia turned to Jovian. “Do you think I should tell Huw about the viscum album in the punica—?”
Jovian interrupted quickly. “He already knows, Lady Letitia,” he said quietly, hoping Sir Erebus had not heard anything.
“Really? Oh, well...” Lady Letitia thought no more of it.
Anthea strove to engage Sir Erebus’s complete attention. Afterward she would not remember anything she said but would learn from Jovian that it had concerned everything from fashionable bonnets and how best to wear ribbons to how Wycke Hall might be refurbished after their marriage. She behaved exactly as an adoring, rather empty-headed bride should and carried it off with considerable panache. Sir Erebus, it seemed, did not care how empty her head was, provided her purse could not be similarly described.
Jovian kept Lady Letitia busy by asking her about various trees in the park, and no one actually saw Huw take a sharp knife and bend swiftly beneath the pomegranate tree. In a few seconds he had deftly cut out a ring of bark a quarter of an inch wide all around the trunk, then he straightened hastily. So nimble and quick had he been that the branches of the trees had barely moved at all. Now the tree would gradually die, and with it the mistletoe that relied upon it for sustenance, but first a sprig of the mistletoe had to be removed while Sir Erebus was present in the orangery.
Anthea and Jovian maintained their diversionary measures, and a moment later the mistletoe had been cut and the sprigs stuffed safely inside Huw’s coat. All had been achieved, and under the most perfect of circumstances.
It is said that necessity is the mother of invention, and for Anthea that was very true indeed for the duration of Sir Erebus’s visit. She did not know how she managed to behave as if he had completely beguiled her, but when he eventually left, she was satisfied that her counterfeit smiles had been almost as impressive as Jovian’s supposed drunkenness.
Just prior to Sir Erebus’s departure, they all partook of a goblet of kykeon in the great hall. Sebbriz brought it to them, and Abigail Wheatley stood to one side, her face very cold and still as she looked at Anthea. It was a gaze that left the latter in no doubt at all that she felt immense jealousy over Sir Erebus. However, Abigail’s deep resentment was the least of Anthea’s problems, her day of testing being far from over. Next she had to play the Lavender Lady for several hours under the watchful gaze of the people of Cathness, and she was very apprehensive indeed about her ability to carry it off.
First, however, Sir Erebus sent Lady Letitia to her bed. He waited until she had drunk the kykeon, then quietly told her she was very tired and should sleep. Without demur she went up to her rooms. Then he turned to Anthea. “Lady Anthea, your task begins now. You know you are the Lavender Lady?”
“Answer truthfully,” Jovian instructed watchfully, knowing how anxious she was.
“Yes, Sir Erebus, I know.”
“Well, you must be seen all over the neighborhood, so that everyone knows you are here again to pose the ancient threat to the harvest. Your gown of lavender has been laid out in readiness, and your mount will be brought to the courtyard. The duke will escort you on the ride.”
“It’s all right, my darling, just show your consent. It is only a sort of royal progress, so you do not need to be as nervous as I know you are.”
She nodded at Sir Erebus. “Very well.”
“Go and put on your gown.”
Turning, she went to where Cynthia waited in the staircase hall.
She returned a few minutes later, clad in the décolleté white silk gown that was entirely covered with artificial silk lavender flowers. Lavender oil had been stroked on her skin, her loose dark hair was adorned with a coronet of fresh lavender, there were satin slippers on her feet, and the gold locket shone at her throat.
Jovian gazed at her. “You look breathtaking, my darling.”
Sir Erebus’s dark eyes were intense. “I believe you are the most beautiful Lavender Lady of all,” he breathed, his eyes so ardent that for a moment she thought he was going to force a kiss upon her, but to her relief, he merely inclined his head, then went out to his waiting carriage. The moment it pulled away, Anthea saw two saddled horses waiting, Jovian’s dappled gray thoroughbred and a cream palfrey like Corinna’s for her. Maybe it was even the same palfrey.
Sebbriz brought Jovian’s top hat and gloves, and as he put them on, Jovian continued to silently instruct her. “We ride a predetermined route around Cathness, and everyone will stand by the wayside to watch. They will not touch you in any way, except perhaps to toss lavender in your path, and the only thing they will say is one of the chants connected with the rituals. There is no need at all to be nervous, for I will guide you throughout.” He nodded at the steward to dismiss him, then held out a gloved hand to her.
Her fingers slid over his, and he led her out into the courtyard, where most of the servants had gathered. As he lifted her on to the sidesaddled palfrey, the only sound was the breeze playing in the battlements. She was thankful for the saddle, not having relished the prospect of riding astride as Corinna had done the night before.
Jovian mounted as well, and they began to ride slowly out of the courtyard. Maids scattered lavender before them, and the chanting commenced. “Come to us, O Harvest Maiden. Protect us from the Lavender Lady. Come to us, O Harvest Maiden...”
As the two riders passed beneath the gatehouse, Anthea saw Huw Gadarn waiting outside on his cob. He took up a respectful position behind them, and as Anthea glanced around at him, he gave her an enormous wink. Heartened, she was able to respond with a little smile. She would carry this off successfully. She would!