A Conspiracy of Ravens Read Free

sure he wears his grey coat.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” Louisa said, turning her eyes on Dylan. “Good morning, Mr. Tremayne,” she said. She was the prettiest of the maids, parlour maids being chosen for their good looks. She had sparkling green eyes, red hair, and a complexion like rich cream.
    “Well, good morning, Louisa. I don’t suppose you’d want to go rabbit catching with us, yes?”
    “Oh, you are a one, sir!”
    “Go along, Louisa,” Serafina said shortly. She did not miss the adoring look Louisa gave Dylan. Most women, she had noticed, were susceptible to his good looks, and indeed, she did have to admit that he looked fine. He was exactly six feet tall and weighed a hundred and eighty-five pounds, and as he pulled off his hat, a lock of his glossy black hair fell over his forehead. He smiled at her, showing perfect white teeth, most unusual in England in 1857, and she could understand women being attracted to him.
    “I must talk with you, Dylan. Please come to the sitting room.”
    “Certainly.”
    As soon as they reached the room, Serafina closed the door, then turned to him saying, “I’ve said something along these lines before, but I’m concerned about the books that you’re giving David and the stories you tell him.”
    “Why, there’s sorry I am, Lady Trent. I thought there would be no harm in the stories.”
    “I saw the book about King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table.” She shook her head, and her lips drew into a displeased line. “I must ask you to do such things no more. If you must give him a book, give them to me first before he sees them.”
    “Well, of course, if you say so,” Dylan said. There was a puzzled light in his cornflower blue eyes. “But, after all, most English schoolboys learn about King Arthur. It’s a fine work of art.”
    “It’s all fancy and make-believe. There was no such person as King Arthur, and those perfect knights that roam around rescuing maidens in distress simply don’t exist.”
    “Oh, I think they might, a few of them anyway.”
    “I’m not going to argue about this,” Serafina said firmly. She had been thinking about the problem ever since she had seen the book, and now her back was straight and a slight flush tinted her cheeks. “I’m not going to have you teaching David things that are fanciful and aren’t true. If you can’t abide with this, Dylan, it would be better if you didn’t come for another visit.”
    A silence fell over the two of them, and suddenly Serafina felt something like fear. She had not realized how much she had come to depend on Dylan, not only to be a companion to her son, but in the struggle to free her brother, Clive, the two had grown very close together indeed. She felt a sudden anger that she could feel so strongly for a man, and indeed she had not since she had fallen in love with Charles Trent. She started to mitigate her statement, but she could think of no way to do it. The two stood there awkwardly until David came running in with his grey coat on. “Let’s go, Mr. Dylan!”
    “All right, old man. Let’s go indeed.” Dylan smiled at the boy, putting his hand on his shoulder. “You’re going to be hunting with the finest rabbit trapper in England.”
    Serafina watched as the two left, and something about the way David held Dylan’s hand and looked up with such an expression of absolute trust moved her so that she turned away abruptly. As she ascended the stairs to her room, she thought, I was too abrupt with Dylan. I didn’t really mean it. I’ll have to make it right with him.

    Albert Givins, the coachman at Trentwood, was a small Cockney. He was an expert with horses and would not permit anyone to touch one of them. He turned now to Serafina while holding the bridle of the chestnut mare and smiled. “I’ve got ’er all settled for you, milady, and a fine fettle she’s in. You’d better be careful she doesn’t give you a ’ard time.”
    “Thank you, Albert.” Serafina patted