Page 10 of Lord of Deception

Chapter Eight

Alys hadn’t given up hope of curbing Kate’s outrageous behavior, but every time she attempted to speak to her cousin about it, she was ignored. None of the other ladies seemed worried—they were amused by the scandal of Kate’s liaison with the gardener. So, she decided to watch him like a hawk, find fault with his work, and encourage head gardener Jacob to dismiss him.

Before she was able to put her plan into action, distraction arrived at Selwood Manor in the shape of Sir Thomas’ brother-in-law, Richard Avery. The man’s wife had died in childbirth the previous year and, so rumor had it, he had taken to spending a good deal of time with Sir Thomas thereafter, as he couldn’t bear to be idle or alone.

Rumor had it right. No sooner had Avery arrived than he was devising entertainments for them all—hunting to hounds, a masque, minstrels, poetry reading. He carried everyone with him in his enthusiasm, exhibiting an apparent joy in life that made him excellent company. Kate preened and simpered appallingly in his presence. Unsurprisingly.

Avery’s first event was to be a costume party, to include Kate’s female friends and their swains, the local gentry, and some of Avery’s acquaintance who would come up from London. Alys hoped the presence of eligible gentlemen might turn Kate away from the gardener’s masculine charms.

In her role as housekeeper, it was Alys who had to cope with the influx of guests. This involved everything from balancing the tradesmen’s books to supervising the cleaning and laundering of rooms, ordering fresh lavender and flowers from the garden to make potpourri, and polishing the best pewter tableware. This gave her no time to participate in the merry-making—she’d be directing operations, like an actor’s prompter watching from the wings.

And just like the actor’s prompter, she was not meant to be seen by the guests. Such exclusion was a constant goad—Kate did it quite deliberately, by loading her up with tasks from dawn until dusk, so she felt like little more than a servant. Even if she could find a spare moment to indulge in frivolity with their guests, she’d be too ashamed of how she looked. Her kirtles were of serviceable wool, not brocade or taffeta. Her headgear sported no silver braid, and her coif no Venetian lace edging. There was no string of pearls around her neck, nor a golden chain—both of which Kate owned in abundance, these having been bestowed upon her by her doting husband.

Avery had decreed that the guests must deck themselves out as Greek and Roman heroes or goddesses. This sent an exhausted Alys to the gardens in search of laurel with which to make suitably classical-looking headdresses. She’d made sure to ask Jacob to cut it for her, not being keen on any further confrontation with Kit when she had so many other things about which to think.

She now sat in the sunny courtyard between the two wings of the house, a basket of greenery at her side, fashioning laurel wreaths. It was a mindless occupation, giving her time to think about the visitors lately arrived at Selwood Manor, and affording her a much-needed rest.

The presence of Richard Avery had lightened Sir Thomas’ mood. She’d no idea why the latter was so rarely cheerful when he had more reason to be so than his bereaved brother-in-law. What cause had Sir Thomas to repine? He’d never lost a wife or a child—he’d never had any. She herself was barely recovered from the loss of her family in an epidemic of the sweating sickness. And that had been a full five years ago. The Four Humors must be unevenly apportioned in Sir Thomas’ constitution, to make him so often melancholy.

“Deep in thought, my lady?”

She looked up as a shadow fell across her. There stood Richard Avery, fully costumed as a Greek hero. With his blond hair curled to caress his face, and the thin linen tunic accentuating the lithe shape of his body, he was a sight to melt any woman’s heart. He smiled at Alys, then winked. “I do hope that laurel crown’s for me.” He stooped to look over her shoulder. “I feel this costume is lacking something.”

“I’m making this laurel crown double. It will be awarded to the best poet this night—who’ll be chosen by the mistress of the house.”

“Ah, that divine goddess, Mistress Aspinall. But what does a woman know of good poetry, when none are able to rhyme as well as a man?”

She bridled at that. Was he being pompous, or teasing her? “Think you that rhyme is the only way to construct a poem? What about meter and rhythm?”

“Oh, I see you wish to dispute with me!” Avery made a wry face. “Very well, rhyme me a rhyme, and I’ll mete you out a meter!”

“I’ll do better than that, for rhyme is meat and drink to me.”

“Ah.” He pressed his fists against his slender hips. “So, you like to pun. I know not if it is meet that you should pun with me, as I am renowned for my wit.”

“Say not for your wit, for the owl is wiser than you.”

“How so? An owl is a mere bird.” His blue eyes danced.

She thought quickly, desperate not to be outdone. “Ah, but you have only the one, whereas the owl has two wits.”

“Two wits? Two… oh! Too-whits!” He threw his head back and laughed. “Fie, you are too clever for me, Mistress. It may be that you are making the laurel crown for yourself, after all.”

She turned the garland around in her fingers and dragged her gaze away from his smiling face. “Alas, nay, for I shall be too busy organizing the entertainments to participate in them.”

“Oh, no, sweet lady.” He seized her hand and kissed it. “I would not have you excluded for the world. Your tongue is a whetstone upon which I may sharpen my wit—I’ll fight much better with a good foil against me. I shall speak to Mistress Aspinall, and see that you are relieved of mundane duties.”

Alys smiled as she watched him stride away. Avery’s flattery had warmed her, and she felt more than equal to the challenge of besting him in a poetry contest. Her confidence much boosted, she hastily finished the laurel crown and hurried away to devise some manner of costume for herself.

And prayed he would be able to use his silver tongue to persuade her cousin to let her have some pleasure for a change.