A Conspiracy of Ravens (25 page)

“Don’t fall off.”

“Wot if I do?”

“Well, get back on then. Come on.”

He said, “I don’t know a bloody thing about ’orses.”

“Just touch him with your heels, and he’ll start walking, but keep a good hold on those reins. Sometimes they get the bit in their teeth and pull the reins right out of your hands.”

The horses proceeded at a walk, and Trevor was enjoying it. He had often seen gentlemen on horseback and admired the way they handled them. Finally he said, “’Ow ’bout we go faster?”

“Of course, but the faster you go, the more likely you are to fall off.”

He touched Prince with his heels, and the animal at once responded by bursting into a canter. He bounced up and down on the saddle but managed to hang on. He looked over at Gervase, who had pulled up even with him, and saw how easily she rode. “Let’s go faster,” he said.

“Better not, Trevor.”

“Come on.” He kicked Prince with his heels, and the horse shot forward. To his shock he found it was exciting and that he wasn’t afraid at all. He did well enough until they came to a tree fallen across the path. Prince rose in the air, and Trevor rose with him, of course. When he came down he felt a jar, and the next thing he knew he was turning a flip. He hit the ground flat on his back.

He lay there for a moment and found it difficult to breathe. He was aware then that Gervase had come quickly and was standing over him. “Are you all right?” she asked, leaning over. Her voice was anxious, and she put her hand on his chest.

“Of course I’m all right.” He got up and grinned at her. “That was fun, right ’nough, but I reckon I need some lessons.”

“Why, you’re doing fine, Trevor. The main thing is not to be afraid, and you’re not. Here, let me catch Prince for you.”

The ride continued after she retrieved the horse, and when they finally went back, Tim was waiting for them. “Was your ride all right, Miss Gervase?”

“It was fine.”

“And you, sir, did you like your ride?”

“The ’orse is smarter than me, I’m afraid, Tim.”

“No, sir, you’ll learn. You surely will.”

As Trevor and Gervase walked back toward the house, they passed behind a copse of trees, and suddenly he reached out and grabbed her, holding her tight facing him. “You ain’t no parlour maid wot ’as to give in to a bloke.”

“No, I’m not,” Gervase said. She did not struggle, and she was watching him carefully.

“Wot if I kiss you?”

“Why, I’d fight you.”

“You’d lose.”

“I suppose so, but one of the things you’d soon learn is don’t kiss a woman who doesn’t want to be kissed.”

“You don’t like me then?”

“That’s not it. I like you very much, Trevor, and I’d like to help you become what Uncle Edward and Aunt Heather want you to be.”

“You like me, but you don’t want me to kiss you. Maybe it’s because we’re cousins.”

“We’re not really.”

He dropped his arms. “Wot do you mean?”

“I’m not Arthur Hayden’s real daughter. My mother was Rachel Reis. She was married to Ramon Reis, a captain of the Spanish Navy, but he was killed. My father met her, fell in love with her, and married her. He adopted me legally.”

“Wot about yer ma?”

“She died when I was only four. So, you see, I’m only your cousin legally. You’re really more of a Hayden than I am.”

Her words confused Trevor. “Well, I didn’t know that.” He felt uncomfortable, for there was something about this girl that was honest and forthright. He had seen pretty girls before but none more beautiful than this one. Finally he said, “Well, since we ain’t really cousins, maybe I’ll get that kiss sometime.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Gervase said, her eyes dancing. “You stay on Prince at a dead run through the woods, and I’ll give you a kiss.” She laughed then and said, “Come on.”

“Where to now?”

“My father’s painting my portrait. I’ll sit for him, and you can watch.”

SIXTEEN

D
ylan got up from the bed where he had been lying flat on his back, holding a book and reading it with considerable discomfort. Tossing the book on the solitary chair in the small room, he took two steps over to the window and stared out. The view was practically nonexistent. All he could see was the shabby building next door and a flock of sparrows fighting over some sort of food in the snow below the window. The world was white, but Dylan could see little of it. The view depressed him, and turning away, he went to the chair and sat on it with discouragement. He had left Matthew Grant’s rooms feeling that he was an imposition. Money was short, and he had only a few guineas left from the fee that Lord Darby had given him. His financial future looked bleak indeed.

Shifting his weight on the chair, he looked down and saw a bright-eyed mouse had suddenly appeared from under the bed. He smiled and said softly, “Well, here you are again for a handout, I suppose.” Getting up, he went over to the meal table, took a bit of bread from under a pewter cover, and tossed it toward the mouse. He watched as she reached down with delicate paws, turned it around and around, and began to nibble. “A beautiful creature you are,” he said. “God made everything beautiful in its time.”

He sat there watching the mouse only for a few seconds, and then a loud rapping at his door brought his attention around.

“You don’t have to break it down, do you?” he muttered.

Getting up, he wondered who could be visiting him, because only Matthew knew where he was staying. He opened the door and found a woman standing there. She smiled broadly, “I found you, Dylan. You can’t hide from a determined woman.”

Dylan returned the woman’s smile. He had always liked Bess Cauthen. They had been in several plays together, and in the time before he had become a Christian, they had been somewhat more than friends. “Come in, Bess, to my palatial quarters,” he said. He stepped back, and his eyes ran over her. She had flaming red hair, broad lips tinted with some sort of cosmetic, and dark blue eyes. Her figure was good, although she was a little heavier than he had remembered her. She was wearing a green coat, and somehow she looked older.

“Well, you’ve come down in the world, my boy,” Bess said.

“Yes, I’ve lost my fortune, Bess, you’ll be sorry to hear. You’ll not be interested in me anymore, poor beggar that I am.”

“Well, you don’t have to be poor anymore.” Bess took a step closer to him, and he could smell the aroma of her perfume, the same she always wore, which smelled like gardenia blossoms.

“What does that mean, Bess?”

“Oh, I’m not offering to keep you. You’re not suited for that, but Knowles is looking for you. He wants you to take that part in
All for
Love.
”

Instantly Dylan shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “Well, you’ve made a trip for nothing, Bess. I’m not taking that role.”

“You’re a fool, Dylan! Knowles is the best producer in New York, and that play is going to be a hit. It’s going to make us both famous.”

“Not me, Bess. I’m out.”

For a second Bess stood looking at Dylan. She reached up and tapped her full lower lip with a forefinger and finally shook her head with something like disgust.“I know what it is. You’re too holy to be in a play like that.”

“Don’t put it like that, Bess. It’s just that I don’t agree with the values of that play.”

“It’s about men and women in love. You believe in that, don’t you? I seem to remember you knew a little along those lines when we were together.”

A faint colour tinged Dylan Tremayne’s cheeks. He knew she had bested him here, for they had been lovers at one time. Since he had given his life to Christ, he was struggling to find his way out of all that, and all he could say now was, “I just don’t want to be in a play that makes sex such a mechanical thing.”

Bess stared at him in disbelief. “Dylan, it’s only a play! It doesn’t mean you’re like the people in the play.”

“I know, but it could lead some people in the audience in the wrong direction. I just can’t do it.”

Bess moved closer and put her arms around his neck. She pressed herself against him, and he was intensely aware of the warmth of her body and also of his own desires. Pulling his head down, Bess kissed him on the lips. She let herself linger there, and Dylan could think of no way to avoid this scene. Pulling away would seem rude, and they had been close at one time.

“I miss you, Dylan. We could have a good life together.”

Dylan sought rapidly in his mind for a reply, but he could not think of a single word to say. He was actually relieved when another knock came at the door. “Excuse me, Bess,” he said.

“You expecting company?”

“Nobody knows I’m here. How did you find me?”

“I went to that friend of yours in Scotland Yard, Inspector Grant. He told me where you were living.”

“That’s probably Grant now.” Opening the door, indeed Dylan did find Matthew Grant standing there. He was bundled up in a heavy coat, and his cheeks were red with the cold. “Come in, Grant. I believe you know Miss Cauthen.”

“Yes, how are you, Miss Cauthen?”

“I’m fine, Inspector. Have you come to arrest Dylan?”

“No, not at all. He’s a good friend of mine.”

“Well, he needs good friends,” the actress snapped, shaking her head with disgust. “I brought him the best news an actor could want. George Knowles is the biggest producer in New York, and he’s offered the leading role in a new play to Dylan. He’ll be starring with me. The fool is turning him down. Try to get him to be sensible, would you, Inspector?”

Grant suddenly smiled. “I haven’t had much success in making Mr. Tremayne follow sensible ways. He had good quarters at my place, but instead he prefers to come to this rat hole, so you see how much influence I have.”

Bess turned and put her hand on Dylan’s chest. She said firmly, “I’ll be expecting you. I’ll tell Knowles you’re thinking about it. It’ll give you a little time, but you’ve got to do it, Dylan.”

Without another word she turned and left the room. Grant watched her go, and then his eyes came back and fastened on Dylan. “Beautiful woman,” he said. “What’s this about a part in a play?”

“Oh, it’s a play that I don’t care to have anything to do with.”

Grant stared at him. He was well aware that Dylan had little money, and he said now, “Come on. Let’s go get something to eat.”

Glad to get out of the confines of the small, dingy room, Dylan grabbed his coat and pulled on his hat, and the two left. They went to a restaurant only two blocks away, ordered, and Grant said, “Now, tell me all about this play.”

“Oh, it’s a play about marital infidelity, but the problem is it glorifies that very thing. It makes a mockery of marriage, and I’m not going to have anything to do with it.”

Grant was fascinated by Dylan. They had become close when they worked together to find a way out of the gallows for Serafina Trent’s brother, Clive. Now as he ate, he tried to think of some way to help the man in front of him. He had a real affection for Dylan, and finally he said, “Well, it looks as though a Christian would have a hard time in the theatrical world. Many of the few plays I’ve seen have been pretty raw.”

“You’re right, Matthew. I just can’t do it.”

“Well, you’ll have to find another profession. Maybe you can become a full-time detective with Lady Trent.”

Dylan smiled, but he shook his head. “I’m afraid not. There’s not enough crime going on that she’s interested in.”

“Well, in any case you’re moving back in with me. You can’t stay in that horror of a room.”

“It’s not so bad.”

“It’s terrible! Look, I never use that spare bedroom anyhow, and I’m gone most of the time. Don’t be a fool, Dylan. Pride is the sin that got Lucifer thrown out of heaven, you know.”

Dylan was forced to agree, and Grant added, “I have an invitation for you. Did you know Clive Newton has come home from Oxford?”

“No, I hadn’t heard.”

“Well, we’re invited to dinner at Trentwood tomorrow to welcome him home.”

“How did you know about that?”

“Oh, Lady Trent thought you were still living with me, and she sent word by one of her servants. And, of course, you are living with me from now on. Get your things together. We’re moving you back in.”

Dylan smiled. “You’re a good fellow, Matthew.”

“Somebody’s got to keep an eye on you. Come along. Let’s get you moved. We’ll leave about three tomorrow. Lady Trent says David wants you there early.”

At the mention of David, Dylan smiled. “He’s a fine boy.”

“You’re getting pretty close to him, aren’t you?”

“I think he’s lonely.”

“He has everything, but he’s lonely.”

“He misses having a father, I think.”

The two returned to Dylan’s room, gathered up his meager belongings, and moved them out. As they were carrying them out to the carriage, Grant turned and said, “That actress—Bess. You two were pretty close at one time?”

Once again colour rose in Dylan Tremayne’s cheeks. He hated it when he blushed. “Well, no more.”

They reached the carriage and loaded his effects in it, and when they got inside, Grant said, “You’re a strange fellow, Dylan. Most men would find it hard to say no to that woman.”

“She’s in another world, Matthew. I was there once, but I’m glad to be out of it. Let’s get me settled, and then you can tell me how you’re going to get rid of all the crime in London.”