by Sandra Heath
For a moment she was frightened, but then she saw Anthea. “Anthea! Where are we? What’s happened? I remember being lost in the lane trying to find my aunt’s house, but then ...”
Anthea hugged her tightly. “It’s a very long story, Corinna, and I will tell you when we reach the castle.”
“The castle?” Then Corinna noticed Jovian. “Your grace?”
He smiled. “Jovian will do, for after all this I feel I know you well enough to dispense with the formality of Miss Pranton.” His glance caught Anthea’s, then he added, “In fact I am bound to know you much better before long, for we are more closely associated than you know.”
“We are?” Corinna looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“We are half brother and sister,” he replied.
Corinna’s green eyes became very round. “We ... are?” Her gaze flew to Anthea for confirmation. “Is it really so?”
“Yes. You do not have an aunt called Abigail Wheatley, but you do have a brother called Jovian, who is surely the finest, most perfect man in all the world.” Anthea smiled at Jovian.
They returned to the castle, Corinna on her palfrey and Anthea riding before Jovian. Many lights were on at the castle, and the servants waiting uneasily in the great hall, unsure what would happen to them now the rites had been halted and exposed as false. Abigail Wheatley had escaped, having awoken and been able to turn herself into a hare in order to slip free of the ribbons with which Anthea had bound her. After releasing Sebbriz, she had escaped in her four-legged form and disappearing into the countryside, never to be seen in Cathness again. Sebbriz also decided it was wise to leave and slipped out of the castle kitchens while everyone else nervously awaited Jovian’s return.
Although they probably did not deserve his generosity, Jovian was prepared to let his staff keep their positions. He promised to forgive and forget, provided they were completely loyal to him in the future—and provided there was no more dabbling in dark things of any nature. If someone was to whisper so much as a charm to get rid of warts, he would know and dismissal would be instant. Everyone, including Cynthia and Phoebe, swore to abide by his terms.
It was as he finished addressing the servants that Lady Letitia came sleepily down the grand staircase. She paused in delight on seeing Corinna, all false thoughts of her having remained in London now vanished.
“My dear, you’ve been found!” she cried, and hastened to hug her. Then she drew back and surveyed the white robe and wheat crown. “Hmm. Well, I do not know that I care to discover what has been going on, but if you will just assure me that you are safe and well?”
Corinna laughed. “Oh, yes, Lady Letitia! I most certainly am.”
“Call me Aunt Letty, my dear, for your disappearance made me realize how very much part of the family you have become.
“What happened in the lane?” Lady Letitia asked then. “One moment you were there, the next you had vanished.”
“To be honest, Lady—I mean, Aunt Letty—I don’t know what happened to me. I was by the oak tree, feeling terribly ill, then suddenly I was dressed like this and standing in the middle of a moonlit wheat field.”
Jovian took charge of the conversation. “Anthea and I will explain everything, but I think we will be more comfortable in the library.” He turned to a footman hovering nervously nearby. “Some Turkish coffee, if you please, and if I detect so much as a sniff of that damned pomegranate juice, I will separate your head from the rest of you. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, your grace.” The man scurried away as if wildfire lit his coattails.
* * *
Explanations went on into the small hours as they all sat in the library, and Lady Letitia and Corinna became more and more astonished as the amazing tale unfolded. No one in the castle was aware of it when Obed Dennis entered the castle and released Sir Erebus from the dungeon. Under cover of darkness—and the black traveling carriage—Hades and the innkeeper drove away from Cathness and escaped the dire punishment to which the law would otherwise have sentenced them.
The escapes were discovered soon enough, but without Abigail or Cerberus either, Jovian realized there was little point in sending for the army. Everyone in Cathness had been drawn into Sir Erebus’s web, so the army would have had to arrest every man, woman, and child, which was hardly sensible. Better to leave things to calm down, Jovian decided, and Anthea, Lady Letitia, and Corinna were in full agreement.
Sebbriz had seen to it that the unfortunate coachman, Longton, had been locked up in a stable since arriving at the castle, so the latter did not think much of Cathness Castle at all. In fact, he was impatient when Lady Letitia and Corinna delayed their return to London by several weeks.
Lady Letitia had resumed her great affair with Huw, and they planned to leave the country so they could be together without anyone questioning their vastly differing backgrounds. However, Lady Letitia was certain of one thing: wherever they went, it would not be the Amazon!
On the two ladies’ arrival back in Berkeley Square, the first person to call was none other than Viscount Heversham, who was agreeably surprised by the delight with which Corinna received him. Lady Letitia was soon busy with her matchmaking again, and her industry paid dividends.
There was no need for matchmaking between Anthea and Jovian, because it was on their account that Lady Letitia and Corinna had delayed their departure from Cathness. One warm and sunny day in late September, with the local population once again gathered to watch, the Duke of Chavanage and Lady Anthea Chloe Wintour became husband and wife in the beautiful parish church. What should have been a grand Society wedding in St. George’s, Hanover Square, or in the Mayfair house, was instead a country affair at which the only people of consequence, apart from the bride and groom, were Lady Letitia and Corinna.
It was a beautiful wedding, one which the Earl of Daneway would always wish he had been in England to see. The local people were very happy for their duke and his new duchess. The recent past might never have been, and all trace of Sir Erebus Lethe had been removed from the landscape, even Wycke Hall, which was pulled down brick by brick.
On their wedding night in the bed once occupied by Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, Anthea and Jovian lay in each other’s arms watching the moon. It was a very ordinary moon, not even full, but it was very lovely. Anthea snuggled more deeply against her adored new husband. “I think that if I ever, ever hear that song again ...”
“What song?”
“Lavender Blue.”
“Ah,” he breathed, and kissed her neck, where her dark hair was warm and sensuous.
She closed her eyes and shivered deliciously. “If I ever hear it again, I shall be very uneasy indeed.”
He raised his head from kissing her. “Why?”
“Because it was when that wretched ditty suddenly came into my head from nowhere that it all began for me.”
“It’s only an old song,” he whispered, and leaned over her. “It occurs to me that there is another old tradition that I must attend to if all is to be well.”
“Old tradition?” She looked up at him.
He smiled. “That of making absolutely certain, beyond all shadow of doubt, that this marriage is properly consummated.”
“But we have already—twice.”
“I know, I know,” he replied teasingly, “but to be on the safe side ...” He bent his lips to hers, and she slipped her arms eagerly around him again.
The moon sailed serenely against the stars as the Duke of Chavanage and his bride made passionate love again. A gentle breeze whispered through the Scotch pines, and a faint echo carried through the night.
Lavender blue, dilly, dilly,
Lavender green.
When I am king, dilly, dilly,
You shall be queen...
For my dear friend Kelly Jerjutz
Copyright © 2003 by Sandra Heath
Originally published by Signet (ISBN 9780451208583)
Electronically published in 2016 by Belgrave Ho
use/Regency
Reads
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is
coincidental.
