Chapter Twelve

T he day of Mrs. Montford's expedition to the nearby Roman ruins promised to be warm, and Raven was glad of an early start. The party made something of a parade with the ladies in carriages and the gentlemen riding. The dowager duchess, Miss Thornhill, Lady Cassandra, and a widow, Mrs. Duncan, rode in Her Grace's elegant yellow barouche. Mrs. Duncan and her son, a solicitor of forty-five, widowed like his mother, were the Montford's neighbors. In the Montford carriage were Mrs. Montford, her daughter Miranda, eighteen, and her sons, Henry, eleven, and Charles, nine. Behind the carriages came a wagon of picnic hampers and servants. Seven miles of pleasant road were accomplished in little over two hours so that they arrived at the Ruggles farm before the heat became oppressive. Mr. Ruggles, the farmer met them at his gate and showed them a shaded spot where the carriages and horses could be kept. There was an oak-studded hill to ascend to an overlook of the old Roman town.

Raven dismounted, and while he assisted the duchess and her party, the Montford boys leapt from their mother's carriage and charged up the hill, oblivious of their mother's cry to wait. Their father directed a stern admonition to the boys' backs not to descend to the ruins without the whole party. Raven had a brief word with Lady Cassandra and a touch of her hand in his before the party fell into three groups, two of picnickers and one of the servants with their burdens. Raven had only an instant to wonder how Lady Cassandra would manage with her foot before he was claimed by his hosts and their daughter.

From the top of the hill, Farmer Ruggles pointed out remains of the old Roman town that lay at the edge of his fields. It had once had four gates, a grid of streets, and beyond the town the round grass-covered mound of an old amphitheater. The antiquarians had uncovered the crumbled outlines in brick and cement of the walls of several buildings. The tallest of the old walls, more than thirty feet high, jutted straight out from the hillside with a series of arched niches. In the southeast corner of the site, a barnlike structure had been erected, which, Ruggles explained, covered a mosaic floor, and housed finds of Roman artifacts.

While Mr. Montford asked about the dates of the town and its likely connection to other Roman settlements, the two boys chased each other around the hilltop, waving sticks like swords. When the servants arrived with the picnic, Mrs. Montford turned her attention to directing their efforts, and Ruggles invited them all to descend. The duchess waved them on, and Miss Thornhill and widowed Mrs. Duncan stayed behind to assist. The boys raced straight down the hill and into the grid of streets, while their elders wound their way down a twisting path.

Raven found himself paired with Miss Montford. Ahead of him on the path, Lady Cassandra made her way unassisted down the hill.

"I hope my father didn't bore you," Miss Montford said. "He can prose on about his antiquities."

"Not at all." Raven offered his hand to help her over a rocky patch.

"I'm sure you'd prefer to be in London." She paused to look out over the ruined town, its ancient roads now grassy paths, and its former buildings, low mounds of rock-studded cement. Sticks and stakes protruded from the old walls and the ground, marking the work of the antiquarians. Overhead the sky was blue and the sun warm.

"What makes you think I'd rather be in London?" Raven asked.

"London is never dull, is it? And it's quite grand, I suppose, the balls, I mean."

They reached the bottom of the hill and began to stroll along a grassy lane. "I take it," Raven said, "that you'd like to go to London."

"I do wish I could, but Mama says the expense is not to be thought of, and that I must be content with our Wormley assemblies. I'm sure they can't compare with what you've seen."

"Is there never a grand ball in the neighborhood of Wormley? At one of the manor houses?"

"Not in forever. You mustn't think I'm fishing for you to give a ball, though."

He laughed.

"Would you give a ball? Verwood would be a lovely place for one." She peeped up at him from under the brim of her straw bonnet. "You must invite everyone young and no one dull and old."

"Are there many old dull people in Wormley?"

"Scores of them," she said with sudden vehemence. "Mama and Papa know them all. I daresay, you are the youngest gentleman ever to come to one of Mama's parties. Feebleness is a positive plague in the country."

Miss Montford's two brothers stood peering over Lady Cassandra's shoulder where she knelt to look at something, her blue skirts against the grass. "Your brothers hardly seem old or dull," he commented.

Miss Montford's gaze followed his. "But look what happens to people in the country," she said. "I'm sure Lady Cassandra was young once, but now she gets put in the carriage with the old people. And Mama invites Mr. Duncan for her. Lord, I never want to be that old."

"Do you regard four and twenty as past all hope then?" Raven kept his voice light. His companion's view of early onset decrepitude was amusing, but he didn't like Lady Cassandra being paired with Mr. Duncan. He supposed a man of forty-five could be drawn to a woman half his age, but Raven couldn't see Duncan as a fit suitor for Lady Cassandra in age or rank. The duchess wouldn't allow it.

In the center of the old town the sun beat down quite mercilessly. Miss Montford fumbled with her parasol, and Raven offered assistance.

Ahead of them on the grassy path, Henry, the older boy, straightened and held something aloft. "Look what we found," he shouted. The other members of the party, alerted by his cry, converged on the place where Lady Cassandra knelt. Mr. Montford reached the boys first and held up their find, a small light-colored blue-green bottle, rectangular in shape with a broken handle. Left to herself, Lady Cassandra came to her feet with some effort.

"Is it really old?" Henry asked.

"First or second century," Ruggles said. "We have found a good bit of glass, but mainly in fragments."

Henry took the bottle from his father and held it to his nose. "What was in it do you think?" he asked.

"I'm told," said Ruggles, "that the square shape likely means it was used for shipping, and this"—he gestured to the broad grassy path where they stood—"was likely their Oxford Street if you will, where the Romans did their shopping. So, I'd say, olive oil or fish sauce."

Henry jerked the bottle away from his nose, and they all laughed.

"Why the blue green?" asked Mr. Duncan.

"Iron oxide in the silica," Raven said. No one appeared to hear him except Lady Cassandra.

"Can we keep it?" Henry asked.

Mr. Ruggles shook his head. "But I'll show you how we mark our finds, and you shall be named as a finder."

Henry hung his head and mumbled something.

"Speak up, my boy," his father encouraged him.

"Can't say I found it. It was her." He pointed to Lady Cassandra.

"Ah," she said, smiling at Henry. "I saw the hint of blue in the soil, but you and Charlie dug it out with your sticks. You must have the credit."

"First," said Mr. Ruggles, "we put a numbered stake in the ground to mark the spot. Then, if you come along, boys, we'll add your names to our roll of finders."

"No thank you," said Henry. "May we keep looking? Charlie and I want to find something we can keep."

Mr. Ruggles laughed. "There's a raven's nest. Can you find that? The birds keep stealing our markers."

The boys' faces lit up. "May we, Papa?" Henry asked.

"One hour." Mr. Montford wiped his brow. "Don't miss your mother's picnic. Now Ruggles, take us to those mosaics."

The boys dashed off, and the rest of the party moved at a languid pace toward the area covered by a tall shed. Raven looked for an opportunity to walk with Lady Cassandra, but Mr. Duncan offered her his arm, and though she declined, she fell into step beside the widower.

Raven was used by now to her dipping walk and her refusal to accept help. One could not call her gait graceful, but her back was straight, her head high, and her movement had a character he could only call strength of will. She was far from decrepit.

Beside him, Miss Montford put her arm through Raven's, her parasol angled to shade her face. "I must say I have a poor idea of these Romans, if their Oxford Street was a narrow lane of fish sauce vendors."

"You think these Romans were a dull lot, here in the country."

"Their town did die," she said.

"Point taken," he agreed. He smiled at her. He had been marked to be her partner. If his plan for the day was a bust, the gentlemanly thing to do was to play the part he'd been handed with good grace. But he would do nothing to raise maidenly or maternal hopes. His interest lay elsewhere. Miranda Montford was a pretty girl, fair-haired and rosy-cheeked with round blue eyes. He wondered that he didn't find her frankness engaging. It was not her fault that she lacked Amabel's unusual beauty or Lady Cassandra's wit.

Though the barnlike shed erected to protect the mosaic floor offered shade, it was quite warm inside the structure. A raised wooden walkway surrounded the old Roman floor with its outer border of blue and white tiles in interlocking loops and its central figure of a man on a raft in a stormy sea. When Mr. Montford identified the figure on the raft as Ulysses of the ancient epic and began to explain the story to Lady Cassandra and Mr. Duncan, Miss Montford tugged on Raven's arm and gave him a pleading look.

"It's too warm for Miss Montford," Raven said. "Let me get her into the air under the trees."

*

They were not long in the shade of the oaks at the top of the hill, before the rest of the party joined them. Raven was glad to see that Lady Cassandra did not appear fatigued.

Cloth-covered platters filled two tables. The older ladies of the party sat in folding chairs, and rugs spread on the ground invited the rest of the party. A welcome puff of breeze stirred the air. There was a bit of bustle and milling about with Mrs. Montford advising them all of the menu and directing her guests to places on the rugs. Once again, the arrangement separated Raven from Lady Cassandra. He saw Miss Montford settled on a patch of rug and went to procure her some lemonade. As a maid poured, he looked over a platter of sandwiches.

Lady Cassandra appeared at his side. "What do think?" she asked. "The soused lamb, or the cold chicken?"

He glanced at her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. The lace at her bodice clung to her warm skin. "Where is your suitor?" he asked. The question, which had unexpectedly popped into his mind, sounded cross even in his own ears.

Her brows went up. "Mr. Duncan, who is not my suitor, is very properly seeing to his mother's comfort. And, if you don't wish to offend our hostess, go for the soused lamb. It's her specialty."

She turned away, leaving Raven staring at the sandwiches and cursing his own clumsiness in shutting down the only conversational opening she'd offered him all day. He chose the soused lamb for himself and the cold chicken for Miss Montford. With any luck the heat would soon put an end to the picnic.

*

Cassie sipped her lemonade and picked at her sandwich, breaking it into bites. No one paid any attention to her. The Romans had not disappointed, but it was lovely to sit in the shade and feel the breeze. A few gray-bellied clouds sailed past overhead, fluffy harbingers of rain.

Cassie was only slightly vexed with Sir Adrian. She could not blame him for thinking of Mr. Duncan as her suitor. Plainly, Mrs. Montford had included him in the party so that Miranda could have Sir Adrian to herself. Cassie hoped his attention to the girl had raised no expectations. She supposed he was waiting for Lady Amabel's arrival in the country to reveal where his heart lay.

A little cry from Mrs. Montford interrupted her thoughts. "My strawberry tarts!" She held a checked cloth above an empty plate.

Her husband came to her side. "What is it, my dear?"

"My tarts are gone."

"All of them?"

Mrs. Montford glanced around. "Where are the boys?"

"They've gone in search of a raven's nest."

Mrs. Duncan shuddered. "Nasty, ill-omened creatures with their great beaks."

Sir Adrian stiffened but said nothing. Cassie rose to her feet. "Clever and cheeky more like," she said, looking at him.

She had spotted the nest earlier as they'd come up the hill from the ruins. It sat in a hollow where the old masonry had crumbled at the end of the standing wall that protruded from the hillside. She doubted the boys could reach the nest, but they could easily eat all the tarts. She turned to the Montford's. "I know where the nest is."

"Can you show us?" Mr. Montford asked.

Cassie led the way, and Mr. Montford, Mr. Duncan, and Sir Adrian followed. As they approached the spot where the narrow wall jutted out from the hill, a series of frantic guttural cries rent the air. Cassie halted, her heart in her throat, at the sight of the boys. Henry sat midway along the top of the crumbling wall, his legs dangling on either side, an airy gap and a steep drop in front of him. Below Henry, Charlie clung to the jutting stones of the wall's face, his feet on a narrow ledge. A huge raven made a diving pass at Henry, and he ducked, flattening himself against the top of the wall.

Cassie pointed to a large, basket-like mound of twigs in a hollow above the last arch at least thirty feet from the ground. "There must be fledglings in the nest."

Mr. Montford halted a few paces ahead of Cassie, where the curve of the hill turned sharply down to meet the wall. "Henry," he shouted, "come back at once!"

"I can't," cried the boy. The raven dove again, skimming over the top of the clinging child.

"Papa," Charlie wailed from his niche. "I'm stuck, too."

Sir Adrian turned to Cassie with a mute appeal and offered his hand. Whatever he had in mind, she took his hand. They scrambled down the hill where the slope was gentler, using tufts of grass like stepping stones, Mr. Duncan following behind them. At the bottom, Sir Adrian studied the wall as he stripped off his coat and boots, and rolled up his shirt sleeves. "Talk to Charlie. Keep him calm. I must get to Henry first."

"Cole," Mr. Duncan protested, "You can't mean to climb that thing. Sheer madness!" "Unless you have a ladder handy, Duncan, I see nothing for it but to climb."

Cassie positioned herself under the younger boy's perch. High as he was, maybe two body lengths above her, Charlie must have had an easy climb until he reached the niche, a rough patch of irregular cobble-like stones stuck in crumbling cement. With each hand he clutched one of the protruding stones, his feet on a narrow ledge.

"Charlie," she called. "I'm standing below you. Hang on!"

"I can't. I can't. The bird will get me." The rising breeze ruffled the boy's shirt.

"Charlie, were you trying to help Henry?" Cassie tried to distract him.

"I was. Then the birds got angry."

"They have babies in their nest. They want to keep you away."

"The bird will peck me," he cried.

"He won't if you put your face to the stones."

Cassie looked over her shoulder for Sir Adrian. He climbed with nimble assurance, finding hand and toeholds in the brick work at the lower end of the wall. The latent strength she had sensed in him from their first meeting was now plain in the easy play of his arms and back as he climbed. Where the lintel of an ancient door made a ledge, he pulled himself up into the open arch below the nest. His nearness drew the bird, and the raven swooped at him, screeching and clawing the air above his head. He reached around a narrow pillar, and took hold of a jutting brick. It broke away, and a portion of the wall showered down. Charlie wailed again.

"I can't hold on anymore," he cried.

"Yes, you can, Charlie." Cassie stepped up to the wall, and put her good foot on a row of stones at the base. Above and to her right, Sir Adrian changed direction.

Taking hold of a narrow pillar, Cassie pulled herself up. She grasped the pillar and pressed her face to the warm stones, finding her balance. There was no way she could reach the boy.

"Charlie," she called. "Look up. Watch Sir Adrian."

"Lady Cassandra, come down," Mr. Duncan ordered.

"I'm staying with Charlie."

"Charlie," Sir Adrian shouted. "Get ready. I'm going to take your arm and hand you down to Mr. Duncan."

Stones rolled and bounced down the side of the old wall. Then Sir Adrian cried, "Got you." Charlie yelped, and Cassie saw him hanging in the air beside her.

In an instant, Duncan came forward to grab the boy. Cassie slid her hand down the pillar at her side and lowered her good foot toward the ground. Another shower of stones rained down, and her foot slipped. Her knee banged hard against the stones.

Then Mr. Duncan took her arm, pulled her from the wall. Her bad foot landed hard, as he spun her to face him. "Lady Cassandra, one hardly knows what to say to a woman of your years. There was no occasion for you to endanger yourself. You have been foolish beyond permission."

Cassie gently disengaged herself from his hold. "Have I? Your concern is no doubt kindly meant, Mr. Duncan, but a woman of my years decides for herself what the occasion requires."

Charlie scrambled up the hill to his father, and Cassie turned back to Sir Adrian. He'd reached the broken level of the wall directly below Henry, so that the flattened boy and the man were face-to-face. The angry raven still dove at them, but Sir Adrian spoke quietly to the boy, keeping Henry's focus on him. The wind snatched away their words, but at last Henry sat up, his hands on the top of the wall. Then, at a nod from Sir Adrian, the boy began to inch his bottom along the wall toward the hill. When there was room, Sir Adrian hoisted himself up. And together they worked their way toward the hillside. The raven wheeled up into the air and descended above the nest, still protesting with raucous cries. Mr. Montford sent Charlie running for the others.

It went against the grain, but Cassie allowed Mr. Duncan to help her up the hill. The breeze grew stronger, and the clouds came thicker as they climbed.

By the time Sir Adrian and Henry reached the place where the wall met the steep slope, Charlie had returned with the two coachmen. The duchess's man lay flat in the grass and stretched his arms down the slope, while the other men grasped his ankles. Sir Adrian helped Henry turn to face the hill and stand, and finally to reach up until the coachman grabbed the boy's hands. The men at the top began to pull the coachman back from the edge, and Henry got his feet under him against the hill. In the blink of an eye, the boy was over the top and safely in his father's arms, sobbing his relief.

As the first raindrops fell, Sir Adrian stood outlined against sky and cloud, tall and straight, like some performer in Astley's circus. Cassie could not look away. He might be Sir Adrian Cole to the world, but in her mind, he must be Raven. Mr. Kydd's account of their boyhood adventures which she had taken as fantasy must be true. Raven moved swiftly along the top of the wall and where it fell away to the lower level, he crouched and dropped lightly down into the broken arch. He lowered himself over the edge and worked his way down the face of the wall. Only when he reached the ground and took up his coat and boots, could she turn away.

The party at the top of the hill moved quickly to their picnic spot under the oaks, the two coachmen in advance. As they went, Mr. Montford scolded, and the boys, scratched and sun burned, bore their father's anger. Charlie stopped once to cast up what appeared to be the remains of strawberry tart. The picnic area was empty when they reached it except for Mrs. Montford's serving girl, who explained that the carriages awaited them. The two coachmen hurried on down the hill.

Cassie reluctantly accepted Mr. Duncan's arm. At least he was still cross with her, so no conversation was required. For once she had no reason to regret her faltering walk, but Raven did not catch up before they reached her grandmama's carriage. She had no chance to tell him of her meeting with Jay Kydd. In the rain, no further delay was possible. The carriage top had been put up, and Mr. Duncan handed Cassie in beside his mother. The ladies exclaimed at once about the stain on her gown from her bloodied knee.