his
performances in Trinovant, promising them the time of
their lives.
The Prescott Theatre had heard applause many times,
but most of it was polite – especially at tedious award-giving
ceremonies. The applause that the singer received
was different. It echoed enough to make the windows
shake; he bowed, managing to be both flamboyant and
humble at the same time.
Magic , Aubrey thought frantically. Tremaine must be
using some sort of concealing magic .
'Let's go,' he murmured to George while those around
were still clapping wildly. Aubrey slipped out of his seat
and hurried up the aisle towards the exit.
'What is it?' George asked once they were outside.
The wind was cool in the evening and felt good on
Aubrey's brow. 'Theatre door. This way.'
George shook his head, but trotted alongside as
Aubrey hurried around the curving flank of the theatre.
'Mistaken identity, old man. Granted, Spinetti looks a bit
like old Dr Tremaine, but do you really think he'd front
up like this? A bit blatant, isn't it?'
Aubrey stopped, suddenly, and George had to jog back
to join him. 'It is blatant. And that's just the sort of thing
he'd do.'
'You're starting to sound strange.' George rubbed his
chin. 'I tell you what. Let's wait out here and see this
character up close as he's leaving. I'll guarantee that you'll
come to your senses.'
Aubrey found that he'd clenched his fists and that it
was an effort to unclench them. 'You think I'm mad? Is
that it?'
'If there's anything I've learned from my time with
you, it's that if you have a bizarre notion, it should be
taken seriously.'
They didn't have long to wait. The organ began again,
signalling the recessional. Soon, gowned and capped
academics began to spill out of the theatre entrance.
They were chattering, full of high spirits, as they made
their way down the stairs, a gorgeous waterfall of colour
and pomp.
Aubrey grabbed George's arm. 'There he is.'
'I see him.' George frowned. 'D'you really think he
looks like Dr Tremaine?'
'Looks like? George, he is Dr Tremaine!'
'I don't think so. Dr Tremaine is taller, for a start. And
his nose is longer. Different coloured eyes, too.'
'What are you talking about?' Aubrey grabbed
George's arm, hard. 'It's him, I tell you!'
'Aubrey,' George said softly, 'people are looking at us.
Lower your voice.'
Aubrey blinked. He saw the concern in his friend's
face and he realised he'd been on the verge of creating a
scene. 'George?'
'Easy now. What would Dr Tremaine be doing here?
And don't you think someone would spot him if he was
stupid enough to appear? He's one of the most notorious
people in the world.'
Aubrey rubbed his forehead and searched the crowd
for the Dr Tremaine lookalike, but he'd gone. He let
go of George's arm. 'I'm sorry. I don't know what got
into me.'
'Let's head off, shall we? You're looking pale.'
Aubrey nodded. His stomach felt hollow, as if he hadn't
eaten for days. 'If you say so.'
Together they slipped away from the Prescott Theatre
back to St Alban's College.
A UBREY HELD THE CUP OF TEA IN BOTH HANDS . 'I DON'T know what came over me. I'm sorry.'
'No need to apologise. Remarkably tame occurrence,
that, compared to some of the hullabaloos we've been
involved with.'
'Still, it's not the sort of thing for our first week at
university. Not a good reputation enhancer.'
'Not exactly.' George munched on a biscuit. 'Protective
colouration, old man, that's what's needed.'
'Protective colouration? You've been talking to
Caroline, haven't you? Sounds all natural historyish
to me.'
George finished his biscuit, grinned and dusted both
hands together. 'Camouflage. What animals do to blend
in with their surroundings so they won't get eaten.'
'I see. And how is this relevant to me? I can't see I'm
in any immediate danger of being devoured.'
'No, but it might be useful to fit in, somewhat. Not
arouse suspicions, if you know what I mean.'
'Ah, yes. My condition. Not drawing attention to it
might be a good thing.'
'It's all
performances in Trinovant, promising them the time of
their lives.
The Prescott Theatre had heard applause many times,
but most of it was polite – especially at tedious award-giving
ceremonies. The applause that the singer received
was different. It echoed enough to make the windows
shake; he bowed, managing to be both flamboyant and
humble at the same time.
Magic , Aubrey thought frantically. Tremaine must be
using some sort of concealing magic .
'Let's go,' he murmured to George while those around
were still clapping wildly. Aubrey slipped out of his seat
and hurried up the aisle towards the exit.
'What is it?' George asked once they were outside.
The wind was cool in the evening and felt good on
Aubrey's brow. 'Theatre door. This way.'
George shook his head, but trotted alongside as
Aubrey hurried around the curving flank of the theatre.
'Mistaken identity, old man. Granted, Spinetti looks a bit
like old Dr Tremaine, but do you really think he'd front
up like this? A bit blatant, isn't it?'
Aubrey stopped, suddenly, and George had to jog back
to join him. 'It is blatant. And that's just the sort of thing
he'd do.'
'You're starting to sound strange.' George rubbed his
chin. 'I tell you what. Let's wait out here and see this
character up close as he's leaving. I'll guarantee that you'll
come to your senses.'
Aubrey found that he'd clenched his fists and that it
was an effort to unclench them. 'You think I'm mad? Is
that it?'
'If there's anything I've learned from my time with
you, it's that if you have a bizarre notion, it should be
taken seriously.'
They didn't have long to wait. The organ began again,
signalling the recessional. Soon, gowned and capped
academics began to spill out of the theatre entrance.
They were chattering, full of high spirits, as they made
their way down the stairs, a gorgeous waterfall of colour
and pomp.
Aubrey grabbed George's arm. 'There he is.'
'I see him.' George frowned. 'D'you really think he
looks like Dr Tremaine?'
'Looks like? George, he is Dr Tremaine!'
'I don't think so. Dr Tremaine is taller, for a start. And
his nose is longer. Different coloured eyes, too.'
'What are you talking about?' Aubrey grabbed
George's arm, hard. 'It's him, I tell you!'
'Aubrey,' George said softly, 'people are looking at us.
Lower your voice.'
Aubrey blinked. He saw the concern in his friend's
face and he realised he'd been on the verge of creating a
scene. 'George?'
'Easy now. What would Dr Tremaine be doing here?
And don't you think someone would spot him if he was
stupid enough to appear? He's one of the most notorious
people in the world.'
Aubrey rubbed his forehead and searched the crowd
for the Dr Tremaine lookalike, but he'd gone. He let
go of George's arm. 'I'm sorry. I don't know what got
into me.'
'Let's head off, shall we? You're looking pale.'
Aubrey nodded. His stomach felt hollow, as if he hadn't
eaten for days. 'If you say so.'
Together they slipped away from the Prescott Theatre
back to St Alban's College.
A UBREY HELD THE CUP OF TEA IN BOTH HANDS . 'I DON'T know what came over me. I'm sorry.'
'No need to apologise. Remarkably tame occurrence,
that, compared to some of the hullabaloos we've been
involved with.'
'Still, it's not the sort of thing for our first week at
university. Not a good reputation enhancer.'
'Not exactly.' George munched on a biscuit. 'Protective
colouration, old man, that's what's needed.'
'Protective colouration? You've been talking to
Caroline, haven't you? Sounds all natural historyish
to me.'
George finished his biscuit, grinned and dusted both
hands together. 'Camouflage. What animals do to blend
in with their surroundings so they won't get eaten.'
'I see. And how is this relevant to me? I can't see I'm
in any immediate danger of being devoured.'
'No, but it might be useful to fit in, somewhat. Not
arouse suspicions, if you know what I mean.'
'Ah, yes. My condition. Not drawing attention to it
might be a good thing.'
'It's all
Similar Books
![Their Independent Bride [The Men of Space Station One #6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)](https://fs.ageofbook.com/508100/thumbs/152x264/their-independent-bride-the-men-of-space-station-one-6-siren-publishing-menage-everlasting.png)
