The Disgraceful Mr Ravenhurst. Louise Allen

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      Theo was conscious of a familiar presence behind him as he made his way down the steep hill, but the follower at his heels made no move to speak to him until they reached the square at the bottom where the gig was waiting.

      ‘Picking up ladies again?’ the other man said, swinging up beside him as Theo guided the horse out and down the St Père road. ‘Not your usual style, that one. Dowdy little hen. Still, expect she’ll be grateful for the attention. Got some trinkets to sell do you reckon?’

      ‘That little hen is my cousin Miss Ravenhurst, so keep your tongue between your teeth and your light fingers off her trinkets,’ Theo said mildly.

      ‘Right. Sorry, guv’nor.’

      He allowed Jake Hythe, his groom, factotum, valet and right-hand man, a long leash, but he knew that one word was enough to ensure obedience. When you rescue a man from a well-deserved place on the gallows it tended to ensure an uncommon degree of devotion.

      ‘And keep an eye on her, if you see her about,’ he added. ‘Her mother’s mighty careless of her.’

      ‘As if it was your own self,’ Hythe assured him. The man had killed before now to protect Theo’s back—it was to be hoped for their own sakes that no local bucks attempted any familiarities with Elinor while he was around. ‘There’s no sign of them at their place on the hill,’ he added cryptically, jerking his head back towards Vezelay. ‘I reckon you’re going to have to get yourself invited to the chateau. How are you going to do that, then?’

      There were, perhaps, advantages to having interfering, overbearing and well-connected aunts. Theo smiled to himself. ‘Do you think the Comte de Beaumartin would like my aunt, the daughter-in-law of the Duke of Allington, as a houseguest?’ he enquired. ‘Because I believe I am going to engineer a meeting.’

      ‘Cunning bastard,’ his companion said, in a voice of deepest respect. ‘You always thinks of something.’

      Elinor was ready and waiting, opening the door the moment Theo laid his hand on the knocker. ‘I was watching for you to make sure you didn’t knock. Mama is deep in a letter to the Antiquarian Society, disputing claims of the Reverend Anthony’s about the development of the ogival arch, and must not be disturbed.’

      ‘Good God,’ he said faintly as he took her easel and satchel. ‘Ogival arches? Doesn’t it drive you insane?’

      ‘Not often.’ Elinor shut the door quietly behind them and fell into step beside him, not pretending to misunderstand. ‘Compared to being the companion to some old lady with a smelly lap dog in Bath, or being a general dogsbody for my sister and her six interesting children, it is a positively desirable existence.

      ‘I get to use my brain and what creative skills I possess. I can read five languages you know, including Ancient Greek. And I have a remarkable degree of freedom. In fact,’ she pondered, ducking under a pole with washing on it that protruded into the street, ‘I probably wouldn’t have this degree of freedom until I was in my forties under any other circumstances. Unless I was a widow, of course. But one has to be married first for that.’

      Theo did not reply immediately. Elinor glanced up at him. Today he was dressed in buckskins and boots, a broad-brimmed straw hat on his head. He looked far less English and considerably more formidable for some reason.

      It seemed to her that the relaxed, polite and slightly deprecatory young man in the parlour yesterday had been an act. All the Ravenhursts were good actors—there was a family joke that there must have been a scandalous actress in the family tree at some point in the past—perhaps in his line of business that was a useful ability.

      ‘Mama is a very considerable scholar, you know,’ she added. ‘It is not as though I am spending my time pandering to some pointless pastime. And it is better than sitting at home being a meek wife to some self-important gentleman who thinks women have no role except as mothers and housekeepers.’

      ‘That is not the sort of marriage I imagine our three cousins have lately embarked upon,’ Theo observed, fielding a ball aimed inexpertly at him by a small boy. He tossed it back, making sure it was catchable.

      ‘No. Those are real love matches. Marriages of equals, I truly believe.’ Elinor shrugged. ‘It was extraordinary luck for them, I suppose.’

      ‘Then you do not have much faith in men, Cousin, if you find three happy marriages extraordinary. But I gathered that up at the basilica yesterday.’

      ‘Some of you are perfectly all right,’ Elinor said with a smile. ‘I suspect men are as much a victim of society as women are; it is just that you seem to have much more fun. Look at you, for example—all over the Continent chasing antiquities and having adventures, I dare say. Just imagine what would happen if I tried it.’

      Theo gave a snort of amusement. ‘It is a dangerous world out there. Even your valiant parasol would СКАЧАТЬ