Dancing With Raven (The Young Shakespeareans Series) (17 page)

“My sister was a three-time Junior Latin Ballroom champ,” he said. “As you can probably tell, I couldn’t be bothered.”

“You’re not half bad.”
As he’s well aware.
“What were you doing while she was on the dance floor?”

“Gymnastics. I had my eye on the Olympics, until I grew too tall. A stress fracture in my ankle ended my gymnastics career. I was rather bitter about it, actually. Still am, if truth be told. My parents are both drunks, so they were no help at all.”

“It’s ironic how life presents twists and turns over which we have no control.”

“The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.”

“
Hamlet.
Even I know that one.”

A smile. “My time in gymnastics wasn’t wasted. It gave me a beautiful physique. You’re welcome to judge for yourself, anytime. Clothing optional.”

She erupted into giggles at his blatant obviousness. “I’ll take your word for it. Why didn’t Felicia continue with ballroom? From what I see, she could have had a stellar career.”

Fletcher’s brows drew together and his normally effervescent manner became muted.

“Um…it’s not a pretty story, actually. Two years ago, Felicia’s dance partner Nicholai committed suicide. He was only eighteen.”

Tori froze in horror. “How horrible!”

“His suicide note blamed his unrequited love for her. My sister changed after that.” He paused. “She even shut
me
out.”

So Felicia’s shark-like exterior hid a morass of pain.
Underneath it all, she’s the walking wounded just like everyone else.

“I’m very sad for her,” Tori said. “What a tragedy.”

“She doesn’t like to talk about it. In fact, if she knew I told you, my life would be forfeit.”

The statement was overly dramatic, but she knew he was partly serious.

“I’ll keep it to myself, I promise.”

He nodded, “I’ve told you secrets. Now it’s your turn.”

Not going to happen.
“I don’t have any.”

Fletcher’s eyes crinkled at the edges. “Fortunate indeed is the amorous swain who receives tender confidences from the rosy lips of a fair maid.”

“And what’s
that
from?”

“My own personal book of life. We just met, so it’s too soon to trust me. I understand.”

They continued to work on the samba, but Tori was puzzled.
He’s the strangest man I’ve ever met.
She understood he had a hidden agenda, but what was the point of telling her his and Felicia’s most intimate secrets? Although her plan was to get him to like her, it was almost as if he was trying to do the same thing…but why?
My refusal to exchange any personal information isn’t the friendliest thing to do.

“I was orphaned when I was eight years old,” she blurted out. “A car accident. I suppose I’m a little wary of strangers because of it. And very recently I was told by one of the most preeminent choreographers in modern times I’m too tall to be a classical ballerina. I still haven’t come to grips with that.”

His expression softened. “Thank you for telling me. We’re officially friends now.”

“Good. I’m glad.”
More than you know.

After the last bell, Raven felt as if he’d been trampled by a herd of demonic buffalo. The stress of the day had been almost more than he could stand, and he was starved from skipping lunch. He flagged Fletcher and Felicia down as they were heading out of the classroom.

“So where are you going to be living while you’re in L.A?”

Raven’s inquiry was not prompted by politeness, but by his wish to avoid their general vicinity. The Harringtons exchanged a glance.

“We’re not sure, actually,” Felicia replied. “Grandpapa is sending a car to pick us up.”

“We might be heading to a more permanent residence…or back to the hotel in Bel Air,” Fletcher said.

Since Raven was unlikely to go anywhere near Bel Air, he was satisfied. He walked with the twins toward the parking lot, where their limo was waiting. Although he scanned the rows of cars, he didn’t see Tori’s compact anywhere.
I guess she left for dance class already.
Disappointed, Raven prepared to mount his motorcycle.

Fletcher crossed over. “That’s your motorbike?”

“Yeah. Dad gave it to me over the holidays as a birthday present.”

As Fletcher looked the motorcycle over more closely, Raven imagined Felicia inside the limo, rolling her eyes in frustration. To his surprise, her door swung open and she joined them.

“Nice.” She ran her hands over the fairing. “Wasn’t the Indian motorcycle Steve McQueen’s first motorbike?”

Raven was taken aback. “I’m surprised you know that.”

“Who is Steve McQueen?” Fletcher asked.

“Only the coolest American actor ever,” Raven said. “Didn’t you ever see
The Great Escape
?”

“Is he the chap who tried to jump the fence while the Nazis were bearing down?”

“The very same,” Felicia said. “I want one.”

“Steve McQueen or the motorbike?” Fletcher said.

Her withering glance was his reward. Bickering, they returned to the limo and Raven sighed with relief.
I’m going to have a Harrington-free evening, and hopefully an entirely Harrington-free weekend.
His stomach contracted with hunger again, so he decided to stop at a fast food hamburger establishment on the way home. While he wolfed down a freshly grilled juicy cheeseburger, he wondered whether to head over to the dance studio to watch Tori’s class. Reluctantly, he rejected the notion. Tattletale Kirstin would probably broadcast his presence to anyone who would listen.
Killing that imp didn’t improve her disposition all that much.

Feeling slightly forlorn, he wove his way through the traffic-choked streets, wondering what his father could tell him about Lord Birmingham’s inopportune visit.
I certainly have plenty to tell Dad about the twins.
When he rolled past the Blackfriars gates, his expectations for a relaxing evening were squashed. An uncomfortably familiar limo was parked in the motor court, its hood still warm.
What are Fletcher and Felicia doing here?

The aromatic scent of fine cuisine tickled his nostrils when he walked through the front door. To his astonishment, a uniformed butler approached.

“Quigley!” Raven exchanged an enthusiastic handshake with the older man. “When did you get here?”

“It’s good to see you, sir. Mrs. Trumbull and I arrived this morning. Dinner will be served at six o’clock.
Boeuf bourguignon
, with Yorkshire pudding.”

“Excellent! Nothing holds a candle to Mrs. Trumbull’s
boeuf bourguignon
.”

With a bow, the butler excused himself to return to his duties. Before Raven could blink, he caught sight of Felicia on her way down the stairs. She was barefoot and had changed from her school clothes into a pair of yoga pants and a sweater.

“This is a great place you have here,” she said. “Guess what? Your father and Grandpapa worked everything out. Fletcher and I are going to be living with you!”

Although Raven heard Felicia’s words, he couldn’t believe his ears.
Is this a joke…or perhaps it’s opposite day? Dad couldn’t have agreed to this.

She pouted. “I must say, you seem rather displeased.”

“Where’s my father?”

“In the library with Grandpapa.”

Raven dropped his backpack on the entryway table and strode toward the library, where Lord Birmingham and Ian were having an
aperitif.

“Good evening, Lord Birmingham. Dad, might I have a word?”

Ian excused himself and followed Raven out into the hallway.

“I know what you’re thinking—” Ian began.

“I expect you
don’t!”
Raven’s voice was no louder than a whisper, but his intensity was crystal clear. “I spent all day with the Harringtons breathing down my neck, and now I discover we’re housemates! How are we supposed to safeguard anything now?” Although he used the word
anything
, he meant Tori. With the enemy so near, however, he was reluctant to utter her name out loud.

“Lord Birmingham has convinced me preparations are already underway amongst shadow world populace to usher in the Apocalypse. I don’t know how Tori was discovered, or by whom, but he’s here to help safeguard her.”

“How can we trust him when he’s threatened to kill her?”

“I believe all that was a misunderstanding, but I’ll let him explain. You, Fletcher, and Felicia are to meet with us in the library at half past five. Get changed and I’ll see you then.”

Grumbling inwardly, Raven turned on his heel, grabbed his backpack, and mounted the stairs. As he passed the first bedroom on the right, he glimpsed a shirtless Fletcher standing next to a large travel trunk and matching suitcases. “Hullo, Raven!”

Reluctantly, Raven paused.

“I don’t suppose you’d switch bedrooms with me?” Fletcher said. “I rather enjoyed the view from your window better.”

“You were in my room?” Raven was appalled.

“Only long enough to see if I liked it.”

“Bite me.”

Ever obliging, Fletcher snapped his teeth like a turtle. “Oh, and you needn’t be concerned your virtue will be compromised. Felicia’s bedroom is located in the other wing of the house.”

“What a relief.”

With a curl of his lip, Raven continued to his room at the end of the long hallway. Nothing would ever convince him to trust Fletcher or Felicia, or make him think this new living arrangement was a good idea.
I can’t believe Fletcher snooped in my room!
As he lowered his backpack to the ground, he was glad he’d made the bed that morning. Unfortunately, a pair of underwear hadn’t quite landed in the laundry basket where he’d tossed them the night before.
Oh, well.
It seemed the Harringtons were going to be privy to all the Cassidy family’s dirty laundry, not just a stray pair of his briefs.

At the appointed time, Raven trooped downstairs, feeling as if a storm cloud was hanging over his head. His father and Lord Birmingham were chatting near the fireplace when he entered the library, and the twins—smugness personified—had settled themselves on a sofa. Although Raven didn’t feel like sitting, his father gestured toward a chair.

Birmingham cleared his throat. “First, let me be clear about one thing, Ian. Gerald and Hannah took the proper preventative action by disappearing. If they’d asked me, I would have helped them do exactly that. I liked the Arthurs very much and I’m grateful you rendered them your assistance.”

Raven’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you wouldn’t have killed the Leap Day child?”

“I would
never
have contemplated such an atrocity.” The expression of revulsion of Birmingham’s face seemed genuine. “That being said, there might have been Shakespeareans in other chapters or religious zealots who might have entertained more drastic viewpoints.”