Page 55 of Miss Dramatic
“I was no such thing.”
“Mrs. Drysdale has arrived, and I had the good fortune to partner her at whist last night. She’s looking very much forward to renewing her acquaintance with you.”
“Gemma Drysdale had little enough use for me before, and I lived down to her expectations. I left the company just when Drysdale was considering allowing us to take on the shorter tragedies. She said I’d abandon them as soon as I’d learned a few roles, and she was right.”
And yet, Gavin didn’t sound engulfed in remorse for having fulfilled her worst predictions. “She spoke glowingly of you. Said you had real talent and deserved a better stage for your abilities.”
“If she’s at Miller’s Lament, the other ladies will have arrived at Twidboro Hall.”
Gavin had always been a clever lad. “You went directly to the stables from your bed this morning?”
“In a manner of speaking. Stop dawdling. Herne will grow fat and lazy if you don’t keep him moving.”
Ah, young love. Such anenergeticaffliction. “Drysdale might well have meddled between you and Mrs. Roberts. You were competition for him on the stage and doubtless made the actors who’d been with him longer discontent. They either resented you or took your part against Drysdale’s less ambitious plans.”
“This has occurred to me. Drysdale likes being center stage, which isn’t the same as having the talent to occupy that spot. He and I need to have a frank and private discussion.”
Phillip’s money was on Gavin, who had the advantages of home turf, personal integrity, a smitten heart, and loyal reinforcements, did he but know it.
“And yonder he comes,” Phillip said. “The man himself, almost as if he heard his cue. I’ll leave you to state your business to him. Shall I take Roland to the grooms?”
Twenty yards up the path, Drysdale was ambling along as if lost in thought. Another unconvincing performance.
“That will suit,” Gavin said, bringing Roland to a halt and swinging down. “Tell the stable lads Roland was an exceedingly good boy. I’ll see you at lunch.” He passed over the reins, touched a finger to his hat brim, and strode forward like a man with a purpose.
Drysdale didn’t check his progress to wait for Gavin, meaning Gavin had to hustle to catch up. That, of course, was deliberate posturing from Drysdale, and Gavin wasn’t in the mood to humor the man—to continue humoring him.
He paced along behind Drysdale about four feet back, scraping his boot against the path from time to time for added effect.
“I can do this all day, DeWitt. Let’s cease with your puerile games.”
“I can do this until the Twid meets up with the Thames miles on, and I have. Many a time. The going always gets a little muddy when the local streams debouch into the Twid, but if one knows the way, the mud can be avoided.”
“How symbolic.”
Gavin halted and stuck his nose in the air. “‘We’ll talk, you and I, about what I’m doing here. For now, I’ll be providing the entertainment, just as I was hired to do.’ I am not entertained by innuendo and strutting.”
Drysdale turned. “You always were a good mimic.”
Gavin had acquired that skill while reciting verse in the snug of the Crosspatch Arms and from performances given before his siblings. Both undertakings had imparted some common sense to him too.
“You learned that I usually exercise my colt along the Twid early in the day, and so you take the first morning constitutional of your long and storied life. You planned to accost me. I’m well and duly accosted, and my sisters expect me for breakfast, so talk.”
Drysdale smiled, adopting the air of the tolerant senior diplomat. “I like your sisters. Miss Caroline will be an original, and Miss Diana will cut a swath in Town. They have provincial charm atop a good education and fine prospects.”
Gavin had started the day with a heart full of joy and determination. He’d had a phenomenal ride on Roland and was already looking forward to seeing Rose at lunch. Drysdale’s mention of Di and Caro put a blight upon all that sparkling wonder.
“My family is not your concern.”
“For two years, they weren’t your concern either. A man who will turn his back on his loved ones is not a fellow of sound morals. Despite his great wealth, he’s also apparently inclined to the occasional bit of thievery. I should know. He used my troupe to disguise—note the irony—his larceny.”
The Twid, swollen with the previous night’s rain, was in lively good spirits, the morning sun brilliant upon the waters. Off in the distance, old Fortinbras bayed a welcome to the morning stage, and yet, Gavin had the sense that evil fairies had transported him from his home surrounds.
“I am not a thief, and you had best explain yourself.”
Drysdale studied the water, his expression one of philosophical resignation. No wonder he stuck to the lighter fare—the tragic airs were not his forte.
“The rest of the cast supports you,” he said. “I’ve questioned them all closely, and while they recall you roaming the Derbyshire venue freely and at curious hours, they don’t condemn you.”
