Oliver dutifully introduced his family to the few young aristocrats he knew. Young Sir Michael Radclyffe smiled charmingly at Lily and asked for the next dance, which she accepted.
The young man bowed politely over her hand, though the kiss was so light it might as well have not happened at all. He led her through the steps skillfully and asked whether she had enjoyed herself so far, what she thought of the flowers, and whether she had promised dances to any other young men. She appreciated the gesture, but everything about the dance felt awkward to her. The steps of the dance were familiar, but the formalities felt more strict, and everything about it felt intimidating.
He handed her back to Oliver with a bow and a promise to introduce her to a friend once she’d danced with her brother.
“He was nice,” Lily admitted.
“He’s a good sort,” Oliver agreed.
The dance with her brother was over too soon. This evening had seemed like a delightful idea when the invitation had arrived, but now, the glitter and sparkle seemed overwhelming.
Oliver led her to the side, where Sir Michael found them quickly. “Miss Hathaway, may I introduce my friend Lord Fenton Selby? Lord Selby, this is Miss Lilybeth Hathaway.”
Lord Selby bowed politely over her hand, letting his eyes linger in a way that felt complimentary rather than disgusting. He was quite tall, with broad shoulders, a trim waist, and luxurious waves of hair that was a brown so rich it was almost black. His skin was a sun-kissed tan, and he had warm dark eyes.
He drew her into the next dance with a quick spin and a ready smile. There was little time for talking, but the cheerful music lifted her spirits. Perhaps this wasn’t such a terrible idea after all. She would certainly try to make the best of it.
When the dance ended, she was nearly out of breath and her cheeks felt flushed. Lord Selby smiled down at her.
“You’re especially lovely after a dance, Miss Hathaway,” he said. “I’d ask for a second but it might be unfair before I’ve introduced you to a few more people. So consider this warning that I intend to ask you for another dance tonight.”
“I will, my lord.” She smiled up at him, charmed despite herself. He was quite attractive, if you liked that sort of dark elegant look. She decided that she did rather like it, when accompanied by a nice smile.
He hesitated, then added more softly, “Is there anyone to whom you would particularly appreciate being introduced?”
She glanced up in surprise, and he quirked his lips in a rueful smile. “I might regret it later, but perhaps the generosity of the impulse will stand in my favor.”
“Thank you. It does.” She couldn’t help blushing at his regard, and she said, “I really don’t know to whom I ought to be introduced. I would be much obliged to you for your wisdom in the matter.”
Lord Selby was about to reply when he glanced over her shoulder and bowed.
“Theo.”
“Lord Selby! I’m delighted to see you here. Are you monopolizing the lady’s dances?”
Lord Selby winced. “Well, I was hoping to after introducing her to someone less suitable than I am, so that she might notice my charms all the better for the contrast.” He sighed. “Miss Hathaway, Mr. Theodore Overton. Theo, Miss Lilybeth Hathaway.”
Theo was a few years older than her twenty-three years, of an age with Lord Selby. He gave her a sparkling smile and bowed with a flourish. “I’m honored. Thank you, Lord Selby. May I have this dance, Miss Hathaway?”
Theo was as tall as Lord Selby, though a little leaner, with dark auburn waves a bit too unruly for the current fashion and bright hazel eyes. The lines of his face were delicately chiseled, and his straight nose and angular cheekbones had a light smattering of freckles. Everything about him spoke of privilege and elegance, and only the irrepressible friendliness in his face kept him tolerable at all.
Theo held out his hand gracefully. Lily smiled her thanks to Lord Selby and then put her hand in Theo’s.
He led her out the dance floor, and Lily realized with a twinge of dismay that the musicians were beginning a slow waltz. This somehow seemed significantly more awkward than a faster dance like a reel, where she would be able to focus on the steps rather than the stranger before her.
“How are you enjoying the evening, Miss Hathaway?” He smiled down at her.
“It’s a little overwhelming, to be honest. I am new to Ardmond.” She winced and wished she could take back the words. “Everyone has been so kind, though.”
“Better not to admit to any awe.” His eyes gleamed with humor. “Are you not accustomed to being much pursued by excited young lords, then? “
“Not at all.” She blushed. Was this the sort of conversation that happened at aristocratic parties? The conversations at home seemed infinitely safer and more predictable.
His smile widened.
She took the next few steps without speaking, and he murmured, “Where is home, Miss Hathaway?”
“A little town called Haven-by-the-Sea.”
If possible, his eyes sparkled even brighter. “I know the place. There’s a delightful orchard on the north side, owned by Mrs. Pattersley, I believe.”
Lily blinked. “How did you know that?”
“I can’t reveal all my secrets in one dance, or you’ll never honor me with a second.” He beamed at her.
The music shifted, and he whirled her into the next dance.
“Sir, this is a new dance.” Didn’t a second dance immediately after the first indicate that he intended to call upon her in the following weeks? Wasn’t it intended as a signal of serious interest? Surely he wasn’t interested so soon.
“Indeed.” He glanced over her shoulder at someone, then met her gaze. “I’m sure you’ve been told a dozen times tonight how lovely you are, but when I say it, I mean it most sincerely.”
She swallowed. “I didn’t expect so many compliments, sir.”
“Theo, please.” His eyes were a quite unusual shade of green-brown which set off his fair skin and auburn hair. “Of the many who have complimented you tonight, who most pleased you?”
“That’s a rather personal question.” She blinked up at him in shock.
He smiled innocently. “Is it? I only wanted to know with whom I must vie for your affections. If it is Lord Selby, I’ll have a great deal of trouble, for he’s much too gallant and handsome for you to be swayed by the likes of me. But if it’s one of the others, then maybe my good name, or some roses from my estate, will aid my suit.”
He glanced over her shoulder again, and muttered, “Blast.” Then in a sweeter tone, “Please save me another dance or three this evening, if you would be so kind, Miss Hathaway.” As the music shifted again, he spun her to the side toward her startled brother, bowed over her hand, and strode off briskly.
She tried not to stare after him, but she couldn’t help a surreptitious glance.
Theo had apparently abandoned her to head toward the prince, who stood near Lord Radclyffe not too far from the door to the ballroom.
A moment later, the butler intoned, “Lord Ash Willowvale, Special Envoy of the Fair Court.”
The assembly music stuttered and then steadied, but the dancers stilled.
Framed in the spacious entry, the fairy was fully as tall as Theo, and as willowy as his name, with a shock of silvery white hair. His cold blue eyes were set deeply beneath his brows. His face was narrow and finely boned, and his mouth had a hard, uncompromising set that seemed as if he were poised to sneer at any moment. He was as pale as moonlight, so that the pink and blue undertones of his skin showed even in the golden light of the lanterns; even his lips were pale. If it were not for the coldness in his eyes, he might have been beautiful, in a strange, alien way, but the veneer of pleasantness was clearly thin.
Lily wasn’t sure if Fair Folk fashion followed Valestrian, or the other way around, but in either case, Lord Willowvale was dressed appropriately for the party. His jacket was impeccably cut of a deep blue brocade that made his eyes glitter. H
is breeches were slim, well-fitting, and of a deep navy. His boots had the correct slightly squared toe shape for the season, and the cravat at his neck was tied with a precise knot.
He stalked toward Lord Radclyffe, apparently well aware of the convention of greeting the host first.
“Lord Willowvale,” said Lord Radclyffe coldly, with the barest possible hint of a bow.
“Lord Radclyffe,” returned the fairy with icy courtesy. “You know why I am here.”
“I was informed that you had been sent to ferret out the identity of our revered national hero. You will find no assistance here. However, since we are not so discourteous as to send you back to the Fair Lands tonight, in your private person you are welcome.” Lord Radclyffe said through gritted teeth.
The fairy was not at all welcome. Lord Radclyffe might be a bit pretentious for Lily’s taste, but she couldn’t fault his treatment of the fairy. If Lord Willowvale was intending to catch the Wraith, he would find no allies in the Valestrian court.
The mysterious Wraith had captivated the court for months, and all Valestrians, even the commoners, were proud that he was, apparently, one of their countrymen.
Three years ago, the neighboring country of Aricht and the Fair Folk had a brief, violent conflict. Officially it had never exactly been a war, but there had certainly been casualties. Valestria had sent several companies of soldiers in support of Aricht, for although Valestria and Aricht had never been particularly friendly, Arichtans were human.
The Fair Folk might have overrun Aricht completely, but for some internal conflict which had stolen the Fair king’s attention and paved the way for a peace treaty.
For two and a half years after the treaty, there was a tense, wary peace.
For the last six months, there had been rumors filtering out of Aricht of children stolen by the Fair Folk. One here, two there, another one again.
It was not clear to anyone exactly why the Fair Folk wanted children, though there were dozens upon dozens of theories. Some people thought the Fair Folk ate the flesh of children. Some speculated that human blood was necessary to strengthen fairy blood, and that their magic wouldn’t breed true if not strengthened at intervals by marriage with humans. Some believed the humans were merely used as slaves or servants, perhaps because the Fair Folk looked down upon the humans as chattel, or perhaps because humans were particularly useful in some way.
A mere month after the first children had been stolen from their homes in Aricht, three of the missing children turned up at the gate of the Valestrian king’s palace in Ardmond. They were confused, pale, and exhausted, and the only thing they could say with any degree of certainty was that they had danced until they were insensible, night after night after night. When asked how they had escaped, they had agreed, after some argument, that a troll had pulled them from their beds, run through the woods, leapt in a hole, and tossed them out of the darkness at the gate.
A week later, two more children had similarly appeared, though they claimed their rescuer was an ogre, not a troll. They had given more detail about the darkness between the Fair Lands and the Valestrian palace gate. They said they walked for four hours in absolute darkness, and the ogre had carried the younger of the two children the entire way. The ogre had presented them each with an apple; he shoved the cores in his dirty pockets when they were done. The elder boy said he suspected the ogre was afraid of being followed, but the younger said he’d slept through that part and didn’t remember it. The elder brother said he’d kept a tight grip on the ogre’s rough jacket so as not to lose him in the darkness. At last they had emerged into the silvered brilliance of a full moon in front of the palace. The ogre had raised a fist and pounded on the door, then slunk away when the guard saw the children.
That had been nearly five months ago. Some hundred and fifty children had been rescued since then by the mysterious hero. Aricht, and then Valestria, had soon begun calling him the Wraith for his ghostlike ability to sneak in and out of the Fair Lands. He took on constantly varying disguises; quite often he appeared as one of the Fair Folk themselves. Several times he had been a troll or an ogre, once a kobold, and often as a man, though no one had ever recognized him later.
The children were of little help. Not only did the Wraith appear as all manner of creatures, but had apparently assumed different nationalities. He had used a native Arichtan accent at times, as well as Valestrian, Altavian, and Rulothian accents in different rescues.
In fact, the only thing to indicate that the hero was one person, or at least a team acting in concert, was the fury of the Fair Court, which had eventually revealed that after each rescue, there was some small piece of paper with a tiny rose inscribed upon it left in the place of the children. The Fair Folk had thus called the rescuer the Rose, after his insignia, but since this had not been revealed for some time, the Arichtan court had styled him the Wraith, and the Valestrian court had followed. The Wraith had remained the more popular name in Valestria and Aricht, but the rose symbol had immediately become wildly popular among both the nobility and common people.
The Fair Court had become increasingly angry. His Majesty Oak Silverthorn had never publicly admitted that the Fair Folk were stealing human children, but his envoy in Aricht, Lord Linden Brookbower, had made it clear to both the Arichtan king and the Valestrian ambassador that he intended to find and kill the Rose. Whatever the Fair Folk wanted the children for, it was important.
So far, only Arichtan children had been stolen. It had at first been speculated that the Wraith was Arichtan, which seemed logical since an Arichtan citizen would have more reason to risk himself for his countrymen than a Valestrian, Altavian, or Rulothian citizen would. But since the rescued children consistently reappeared just outside the Valestrian palace, the Fair Court now believed that the Wraith was Valestrian.
Lord Willowvale gave the slightest possible bow, his mouth twitching at the required civility when he apparently wished to more openly reveal his rage. “Your welcome is well understood. I do not require your assistance in my assignment.”
“Very well.” Lord Radclyffe raised his chin and turned away.
Lord Willowvale turned to the prince and bowed stiffly, his mouth tight. “Your Royal Highness.”
“Lord Willowvale.” The prince acknowledged the fairy and sketched a faint, mocking bow. “Welcome to Valestria.”
Prince Selwyn smiled more warmly at Theo, who now stood at his shoulder. “I heard you bought another horse?”
“A very nice hunter. I took him out yesterday around the pond. I couldn’t be more pleased.” Theo turned to include the fairy in the conversation. “Do you ride, Lord Willowvale?”
“Yes.”
Theo stared at the fairy expectantly, a pleasant smile on his face. Finally he prompted, “Do you have a favorite horse, then? Or a favored trail? Anything at all, really?”
The fairy stared at him, his narrow lips turning downward. “Yes. Why?”
“It is what we humans do at dances: we make pleasant conversation with fellow guests.” Theo frowned faintly. “I haven’t been introduced to you, though. I’m Theo Overton.”
“What is your title, then?” The fairy’s eyes flicked up and down, taking in Theo’s immaculate lace cuffs, expensive shoes, and the fashionable cut and exquisite fabric of his jacket and breeches.
Theo smiled brightly. “I have no title at all, not even a courtesy title! My father is a baronet, so we’re really not that important.”
Lord Willowvale narrowed his eyes. “Why are you here, then?”
Theo’s hazel eyes sparkled. “I like dancing, and the food is delicious.”
The fairy’s expression darkened. “I mean why did they let you in?”
“Oh, that’s a puzzle, indeed. I think it’s because I’m amusing.” If there was mockery in Theo’s smile, it was mostly hidden. “Also, His Royal Highness Selwyn is too excellent of a whist player; if I don’t agree to play on the other team, he’d have no opponents at all.”
Lord W
illowvale looked him up and down again. “Introduce me to the men of title here.”
Theo blinked, then smiled kindly. “Lord Willowvale, it is not the custom in Valestria to order about free men, even when you are an honored guest.” His smile brightened, and he added, “I would be delighted to do so, if you asked more courteously.”
The fairy bared his teeth in a rictus of a smile, and Theo beamed at him.
“Please introduce me to the men of title, useless puppy,” ground out the fairy.
Theo said with equanimity, “A puppy is charming and beloved by anyone of good character. Using the word as an insult is in poor taste, my lord. Come.”
He led Lord Willowvale briskly across the room to the Duke and Duchess of Milburn, who exchanged icy pleasantries with the fairy. Then back across the room to the Duke and Duchess of Kaylin, Lord and Lady Pitts, then again across the room to the Marquess Lamplighter, and then crossed the room yet again to the Marquess and Marchioness of Wilhartney.
Lily watched with growing awe from where she stood beside her brother as Theo led the fairy back and forth across the room. With perfect courtesy, he introduced Lord Willowvale to everyone in attendance.
“What on earth is he doing?” she finally murmured to her brother. “He’s dragging the poor man—fairy—across the room four dozen times rather than just turning to the person nearest.”
“He’s doing it in order of their rank,” Oliver replied under his breath. “It’s simultaneously polite and completely ridiculous.”
Lord Willowvale’s pale cheeks were slightly flushed with heat and anger as Theo finally led him to the Hathaways.
“Lord Willowvale, this is—” Theo hesitated, his eyes dancing, “—actually, I haven’t been formally introduced either.”
“Jacob Hathaway.” Jacob bowed courteously to both of them. “This is my wife, Lady Imogen Hathaway, my son Oliver, and my daughter Lilybeth.”
Theo beamed at them. “I’m honored to meet you. It’s Sir Jacob, isn’t it? You were knighted several years ago, I believe. I’m Theo Overton, and this is Lord Ash Willowvale, Special Envoy of the Fair Court.”
The Wraith and the Rose Page 2