Juniper looked at him with wide eyes. “What do you mean?”
Theo smiled. “Only that you are welcome here for as long as you want to stay. Just keep it in mind.”
“Thank you.” The young fairy ducked his head and smiled.
When they arrived, Anselm positioned the carriage so they could see later arrivals as they stepped out of their various carriages and walked toward the door.
The Hathaways arrived in a hired carriage some time later. Sir Jacob jumped out, then Oliver, and the two men offered their hands to Lady Hathaway and Lily. All four of them were clearly visible in the graveled path before they reached the steps.
Theo looked toward Juniper.
The young fairy smiled, his bright eyes glowing with warmth. “The glamour is the most innocent thing you can imagine, sir. All I could see was that it hid the worn spots on her dress and a mended rip.”
“That’s all?”
Juniper nodded. “What I saw wasn’t strong enough to do much more than that even if she’d wanted to. Perhaps she could do more, but I doubt she could make a stronger effect last long.”
Theo made a thoughtful hm. “Thank you, Juniper. I hate to ask you to wait out here, but I believe Lord Willowvale was invited tonight.”
“I don’t mind at all, sir. I have—”
Theo sighed in mild exasperation. “Don’t sir me, please, Juniper. Please.”
The young fairy sighed as well. “I owe you a blood debt, Theo. You may discount that as an archaic Fair custom, but to me it is a weight and an honor. How can I treat you as an equal when you’re my elder, my social superior, my leader, and my benefactor?”
Theo gave a soft groan. “Juniper, you’re entirely too humble and kind for this world, much less the Fair lands. Let us put the argument aside for the moment. Would you prefer to wait or have Anselm take you home? There’s dinner for you in the basket there, but I hate to think of you just sitting here bored.”
“You said I could read your books earlier,” Juniper said tentatively. “I took the liberty of borrowing one for the evening. I hope that was all right.”
“Of course. Can you read it here?”
“Oh yes, I can see the words clearly. We have better night vision than you humans,” Juniper replied cheerfully.
“All right.” Theo stepped out of the carriage and turned back to his young friend. “If you get bored or Lord Willowvale seems to be paying too much attention or anything at all, please ask Anselm to take you home. He won’t mind.”
“Yes, sir.” Juniper smiled at Theo’s aggrieved expression.
Theo stopped to speak quietly to Anselm, who had already reclined cheerfully on the wide, padded driving seat. Then he strode up the wide steps and greeted the footman with a smile.
Several minutes later, the footman at the door of the ballroom boomed, “Theodore Overton the Fourth.” The resulting buzz of excitement and conversation made it difficult to find Lily for a moment. He greeted Lord and Lady Hastings, the host and hostess, as well the prince and several others, all the while looking for his beloved.
At last! He saw her near her brother, who was speaking with Lady Araminta. Theo hid a smile at the faint flush in Oliver’s cheeks. If Lady Araminta had noticed it, it might have encouraged her, but she seemed equally shy and flustered.
Theo greeted them with a bow. “Miss Hathaway. Lady Araminta. Mr. Hathaway.”
“Mr. Overton.” They bowed or curtsied in turn.
“Miss Hathaway, might I hope that you will honor me with this dance?”
“You might. I believe now that we are engaged, it is to be expected that I will honor you with several dances.” She smiled and put her hand in his.
He beamed at her, then, as he drew her toward the dance floor, he lowered his voice and murmured, “Yet I do not take the honor for granted. I am more delighted every time.”
“You must be positively enraptured.”
“I am,” he said, his voice warm and kind.
The footman intoned, “Lord Ash Willowvale, Special Envoy of the Fair Court.”
A distinct chill greeted this announcement.
Theo ignored the new arrival as long as he could, but at the end of the dance, he said in a low voice, “Please excuse me, Miss Hathaway. His Royal Highness appreciates my support when dealing with Lord Willowvale.”
He bowed deeply over her hand, and she watched him curiously as he strode toward the prince.
Lord Willowvale had, as was proper, first greeted the host and hostess with a bow, then greeted His Royal Highness. By the time he had finished bowing to the prince, Theo was at the prince’s side and greeted the fairy with a courteous bow.
The fairy gave a stiff, unfriendly bow and turned to look across the room, his eyes flicking from face to face. His gaze lingered upon Oliver Hathaway, who was dancing with Lady Araminta, and he said to the prince, “Do you know the identity of the Wraith, Your Royal Highness?”
The prince blinked at such a direct question. “If I did, I would not tell you.”
The fairy’s lips twisted in something like a smile. “What do you do with the children who are stolen from us?”
“That is not any of your concern,” said the prince more forcefully.
Theo said quietly, “It seems the Fair Court has more ability or more inclination to steal children from Aricht than from other nations. Why might that be?”
The fairy shot a sharp glance at him. “Why should you want to know that?”
Theo gave him a wide-eyed look of innocence. “How will we know how to avoid the same fate if we don’t know what provoked it in the first place?”
Lord Willowvale’s lips curled in scorn. “You cannot avoid it. The Fair Court will do what it must, where it must, when it must.”
Theo straightened. “Here I thought my aristocratic pride was perhaps a bit unchivalrous.” He looked at Lord Willowvale in awed admiration. “You, my lord, have humbled me.”
Lord Willowvale muttered, “You halfwit!” He stalked away.
The prince leaned closer and murmured in Theo’s ear. The taller man nodded, his attention never leaving the fairy.
Lord Willowvale appeared to be interested primarily in Lady Araminta, whom he accosted as young Sir Michael Radclyffe was about to dance with her.
“What do you know of the Fair Lands?” he said, shouldering Sir Michael neatly out of the way so that he faced Lady Araminta squarely.
She blinked at him. “Nothing, except that your people are prone to stealing defenseless children.”
His eyes blazed with fury, and he said, “I did not ask what you know of us. I asked what you know of the land.”
Oliver was suddenly at Lady Araminta’s other side. “Why should she know anything of your land, other than that you have abominable manners? Leave her alone.” He edged between them, though he offered no physical threat to the fairy.
Sir Michael took the opportunity to pull Araminta away, then stood at Oliver’s shoulder.
Theo reached them just in time to say, “Lord Willowvale, I have no idea what argument you have with Lady Araminta, but it seems to me that you have decided to make yourself as offensive as possible to as many people as possible while you are in Valestria. Is there a reason for that, or is it merely your natural habit to court antipathy?”
This achieved its desired result of turning Willowvale’s attention back to Theo.
The fairy rounded on him with hatred blazing in his eyes. “You utter nitwit. Silence your yapping before I silence you myself.”
Theo took a half-step back and bowed politely. “How would you propose to do that, my lord? I would wager nearly everyone here would gladly join you in the attempt to get me to stop talking.”
At this ridiculous rejoinder, Araminta’s nervous fear overflowed into a giggle. Oliver snorted, trying not to laugh at his friend, and Sir Michael chuckled.
Theo gave Lord Willowvale a sparkling smile and turned away, shepherding Araminta and Oliver before him. “I do hope,” he said ov
er his shoulder, “that you choose to enjoy Lord Hastings’ hospitality rather than harassing innocent maidens with unfounded accusations. It is most unseemly.”
The titter of laughter that followed, emanating from Araminta, who was near tears with nerves, Oliver, who had decided to follow Theo’s lead in brushing off the fairy’s discourtesy, and spreading to everyone within earshot, made Lord Willowvale narrow his eyes in irritation.
His gaze followed them all the way through the next dance.
Oliver felt the fairy’s shrewd attention as they exchanged places in the rows. “Please don’t think of him more, Lady Araminta. He does not deserve your attention.”
Araminta smiled tremulously up him. “I know. He has such a cruel air about him; I hate to think of the Wraith facing him.”
“I’m sure the Wraith knows what he’s doing,” Oliver said confidently.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Araminta murmured.
Lord Willowvale smiled quietly to himself.
The Fair Court’s Special Envoy to the kingdom of Valestria watched with interest as Oliver Hathaway called upon the Duke Brickelwyte, Lord Liam Poole.
The Poole family had a spacious house in the city not far from the Hathaway residence, which Lord Willowvale watched off and on for months. The Hathaways were of interest due to their sudden popularity in the Ardmond social scene, but that was clearly due only to their proximity to the Overton halfwit.
Lord Willowvale had probed every noble family multiple times over the previous months, both directly and indirectly, comparing their absences from parties and social events to the accounts His Majesty Silverthorn sent him of the Rose’s known visits to the Fair Lands.
It could, of course, be assumed that the Rose had at least one, if not more, allies in the Valestrian court. If that ally were clever enough, there might effectively be two Roses, who split the duties and thereby avoided suspicion.
The sudden popularity of the Hathaway family had raised a new possibility. Lord Willowvale had previously assumed that the Rose must be a nobleman, for the manners of a Fair Lord were not so easy mimicked by a commoner, or one who had no experience in the rarified atmosphere of the human court, much less the Fair Court.
He had recently realized that this had led him to discount the possibility that someone of slightly lower status might be responsible. Someone like Oliver Hathaway, whose absence at most parties and social events would not even be noticed, much less remarked upon.
The boy was young and clever, and he certainly acted the part of an innocent well enough to put off suspicion. But through both his own meager connections and that of his father, he had somehow managed to befriend young Sir Michael Radclyffe, son of Duke Radclyffe, and thereby gain an invitation to a party that catapulted the entire family into prominence by way of Theo Overton’s interest.
Oliver Hathaway could not have foreseen that his sister would have been so successful in her bid for a good match. It must have put him in quite a bind, as it now brought him also to prominence.
Lord Willowvale had set one of his servants to watching Oliver Hathaway for some time, just as they had watched the comings and goings of other families for periods of time. Of all the many men he had considered as the Rose, only Oliver Hathaway, and oddly enough his sister Lily with him, had been absent from the garden party that took place the day the traitor fairy disappeared.
The obvious conclusion was that the Rose had helped his Fair ally escape, and that Oliver was the Rose. The Rose would undoubtedly have prioritized the safety of his young ally over yet another social engagement.
Some pieces of information did not entirely fit; Oliver had an air of diffidence that did not lend itself to the belief that he was the bold and daring Rose, who had quite literally waltzed children out from under the noses of their Fair guardians.
Nevertheless, it was not impossible to imagine Oliver Hathaway assuming a more timid personality than he in fact possessed. It would certainly be a good cover. He had friends both noble and common, in his own little hometown and here in Ardmond, even before his rise in social status.
The wide streets and generous yards of this prosperous section of Ardmond did not lend themselves to easy surveillance, but Lord Willowvale was not above using a light glamour to avoid notice. He was much more talented at natural magic, with an affinity for plants, especially vines, but all fairies were easily capable of producing a glamour sufficient to fool human eyes.
Effecting another’s manner was much more difficult, and Lord Willowvale, as all fairies, knew it was next to impossible to convincingly pretend to be someone known to the person with whom one was conversing, especially while avoiding outright lies. Instead, it was much easier and often more useful to pretend to be someone fictitious, and to avoid talking when possible.
Lord Willowvale had assumed the appearance of an utterly forgettable errand boy and thrown himself at the base of an enormous oak tree near the elegant entrance of the Poole estate. He lay back against the tree with his eyes half-closed in thought, with a satchel of excellent bread and cheese, a cold sausage, a canteen of water, a flask of brandy to take the edge off his boredom, and an as-yet unopened book near to hand.
Oliver Hathaway had arrived at the estate by way of a hired carriage. The Hathaways were apparently rather more poor than they wanted to appear; Lord Willowvale had immediately seen through Miss Lilybeth Hathaway’s minor glamour upon her worn dresses. Lord Willowvale had not previously considered how this affected Oliver’s apparent interest in Lady Araminta; it was bold indeed for a son of a knight, of little means, to attempt to court the daughter of a duke, even one of only slightly greater means.
Oliver was welcomed in to the Poole house by a servant, who seemed familiar with him. Lord Willowvale had expected the visit to be relatively short, as human convention required at this point in a courtship, but he waited nearly two hours before Oliver exited the house.
The boy was smiling and slightly flushed, as if embarrassed but simultaneously delighted, and he bowed, still smiling, to the Duke, who had personally walked him to the door. When the door closed, he turned and began jauntily walking down the street.
Lord Willowvale threw the remains of his brunch and his book into his satchel and followed, intrigued.
The boy walked all the way home, a matter of only a mile and a half, but still it surprised Willowvale; humans who considered themselves part of the nobility did not often voluntarily walk through town, and certainly did not cheerfully whistle as they did so.
The boy was utterly and completely smitten.
Chapter 16
An Invitation and a Letter
Dear Sir Jacob,
I would be honored if you and your family would join my parents and me for a picnic luncheon next Thursday at 11:00 am. I eagerly await your reply.
Respectfully,
Theodore Overton, IV
The letter arrived with an extravagant arrangement of white calla lilies and chrysanthemums, deep purple heliotrope, green ivy and marjoram, and petite purple violets.
Lily regarded the arrangement with growing admiration. The letter for her that came with it read:
My dearest Lilybeth,
I hope it is not too presumptuous to call you that, since we shall be married in a few months. The time passes too slowly for me, and when I think of spending my days with you, my heart beats faster.
If you were to receive one gift on your wedding day, what would you like it to be? How might I make that day pleasing for you?
With utmost respect and tenderness,
Theo
Lily covered her shy smile with a hand while looking back at the flowers. Theo was undoubtedly better versed in the language of flowers that had grown in popularity in recent years.
She ran upstairs and brought down the book Araminta had loaned her several weeks before. White chrysanthemums were truth, she knew that already, but what were the others? She flipped through the pages, feeling increasingly warm with embarrassed delight. Ca
lla lilies were for beauty. Heliotrope was for eternal love and devotion. Ivy was for fidelity, marriage, and friendship. Marjoram signified joy and happiness. The little violets indicated loyalty, devotion, faithfulness, and modesty.
The arrangement was a gift and a promise, and the strength and beauty of the sentiment brought tears to Lily’s eyes.
Shortly afterward, there was a knock on the door. A little boy presented a note to her that read:
Dear Lady Hathaway,
I am honored to produce your daughter Miss Lilybeth Hathaway’s bridal dress. Please respond with a date and time for a first fitting at your estate.
Most humbly,
Mrs. Frances Collingwood, of Collingwood Apparel
Lily asked the boy to wait a moment and brought the note to her mother.
“I haven’t contracted anyone for the dress yet,” her mother said with concern. “I don’t think Collingwood is within reach, either. You know that studio does the most extravagant of court apparel.”
“I had heard,” Lily said, frowning. “But I don’t imagine they would resort to dishonesty to gain your business.”
“I hadn’t thought so either. Let me think.”
Eventually her mother sent back a note that read:
Dear Mrs. Collingwood,
I am honored by the thought of having my daughter’s dress made by your studio, but I must confess I had not thought it possible, given your busy schedule and the demands of those of more ready means. If you do have the time, my daughter and I will be free this Wednesday at 2:00 pm.
Sincerely,
Lady Hathaway
The note was meant to quietly note the Hathaway’s limited budget, but Lily feared it was not clear enough. Lily gave it back to the boy, who was waiting, along with a few pennies for his trouble and to buy a snack on his way back to the clothier.
Nearly three hours later, the same boy was back, flushed and breathless at hurrying halfway across the city twice in one afternoon. He presented another note to Lily. She brought it to her mother, who read aloud:
The Wraith and the Rose Page 12
