If there was a man alive who could resist the child’s attempt at courage, Ezra hoped never to meet him. A person would have to be utterly heartless.
He sighed.
“Very well,” he said. Iris peeked up at him, her gaze full of half-formed hope. “I shall send one of the footmen to get a cushion for Hermes. We can put it at the back of the room. And if she can remain on the cushion—but she must remain, Iris, because we can’t have a dog stealing the food right from our mouths—if she can do that, she may remain.”
“Really?” Iris asked with shy happiness.
“Really,” he said. “But shemuststay on the cushion.”
Iris was nodding so hard that her head was going to fall right off if she didn’t let up soon.
“She will,” Iris promised with an optimism that Ezra did not feel. “She’s a very good dog.”
And perhaps Hermes didn’t want to let her young mistress down, because she did remain on the cushion throughout the rest of the meal, even if the dogdidgive the table the occasional longing look.
Ezra suspected that his control over his household was slipping day by day, if this incident was any sign. Soon enough, Iris would be the one commanding the troops, so to speak.
He found that the idea bothered him less than perhaps it should have.
“I will confess, Iris,” Ezra commented when they’d made it to pudding without further incident, “I am rather impressed with how well Hermes has done. After you finish your meal, you can take her down to the kitchen to see if Cook has any scraps for her.”
Iris beamed, but she paused to lick the last traces of sweet cream from her spoon before she answered. Such were the priorities of four-year-old girls, he supposed.
“Of course Hermes is good,” Iris said when there was no hint of her dessert remaining. “She is named after the messenger to the gods. That makes her very good at listening.”
Iris delivered this information with the same nonchalance with which she often said things that were powerfully interesting to Ezra. He looked up at Letty to find her already staring back at him, just as wide-eyed as he felt.
He paused long enough to feel a pang of preemptive loss. Even if he found the second most wonderful governess in England, there was no chance he would find someone with whom he felt so connected—both in terms of Iris’ care and otherwise.
“You really are so very clever about the myths, Iris,” Letitia said casually, her eyes not leaving Ezra’s. Her face looked far from casual, but Iris was too absorbed in her dessert to notice.
Iris nodded. “My mama taught me.” Then she looked up, her brow furrowed. “Hermes is the messenger… He can go between the place where we are and heaven, where dead people are. Doyou think that means thatmyHermes can do the same thing? Do you think… Do you think she saw Mama?”
Ezra felt a flash of worry that he would somehow respond incorrectly to what was clearly a sensitive question. Letitia gave him a reassuring nod.
“What do you think?” she asked, the question carefully lacking weight. “You’re the one who knows so much about the old gods.”
Iris frowned thoughtfully.
“I think so,” she said after a moment. “After all, Hermes knows Mama’s name.”
Ezra felt like he was about to vibrate right out of his skin.
“Oh, yes? What name is that?”
“Artemis Johns, a Lightholder,” she said, nodding on each word. It was clear that this name was less affecting to her than when she referenced ‘mama,’ but Ezra felt nearly the opposite.
Artemis Johns. That was aname. He could work with a name.
“That’s very interesting,” he said politely, feeling bolstered when Letitia gave him an approving nod from behind Iris’ head. “Did any other Lightholders come to visit you?”
Iris’ confused expression told him instantly that he was not likely to get a helpful response.
“Mama was a Lightholder,” she repeated, as if he had not understood. “That was her name. Artemis Johns, a Lightholder.”
“Do you know what a Lightholder is?” Letitia probed lightly.
Iris was starting to grow frustrated. “I just said!” she insisted. Her tone suggested that, had she been standing, she would have been stamping her foot. “It’s Mama. Artemis Johns, a Lightholder!”
