Page 58 of Donovan Blake: Passion

“Oh, my gosh. I can’t believe you knew. Do you think that’s silly?”

“Not at all. I think it’s awesome, and I really respect you for it, though may I ask why?”

“I’m not sure. I think it’s growing up at Hawthorne Hall. I can feel the past, the way things used to be. I admit I went off the rails for a little while, but that’s over. Trevor…don’t think I’m crazy, but I feel as if I’ve lived here before.”

“That’s interesting. Whenever I’m here in the country I do too. I think I used to be a farmer. I love animals. Now my stint in the army is over I plan on being a vet.”

“You are? That’s wonderful. I keep hounding dad for a dog and he’s finally agreed. Of course I want six of them too.”

“Of course! Come on, let’s get back. I think the rain is picking up and we’re already drenched.”

“Trevor? Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being here and being you.”

* * *

Back in London, at precisely 11:45, Giles Cavendish had finally dragged himself out of bed. After taking a hot shower to clear his foggy head, he brewed a fresh pot of coffee and settled down to await the arrival of the portrait. A few minutes past noon the doorbell chimed. Barely able to contain his excitement he hurried down the hall and opened the door.

“Sign here, please,” a man gruffly ordered, handing him a tablet.

“Where is it?” Giles asked, seeing only a sedan double-parked on the street.

“Please stand aside. It’s heavy and awkward, I’ll push it in.”

“Why the hell is that?” Giles demanded as the messenger managed to shove it through the door.

“Hey, I just deliver.”

As the courier strode away, Giles sat on the floor and managed to unscrew one of the caps.

“Who the hell sent me this thing,” he grunted, reaching inside and gripping the edge of what felt like thick paper. As he tugged, the end of Gilcee print slid out, exposing the head of Lord Percival Hawthorne.

“No, no, no,” Giles cried, dropping it as he jumped to his feet.

Leaning against the wall, his fingers shaking, he pulled his phone from his pocket only to see a voicemail from Alexi. Hastily tapping the icon, he heard…

Giles, Alexi here. I received the transfer of funds and the painting is yours, but if you also want the antique picture frame you need to call me right away. It will be picked up when the painting is dropped off in the morning. Once it’s gone, it’s gone, and so am I. The painting is much safer in a canister and it will be delivered to your home around noon. I’m leaving London for a while and I won’t be reachable, so as I said, if you want that frame you need to get back to me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

When Donovan and Phoebe arrived back at Hawthorne Hall they found themselves in a raging storm. After the frame was carefully but quickly moved into the library, Peter walked in and the three security guards returned to their quarters. As Peter studied the frame for any damage, Donovan ran his fingers down the back of the right side.

“I found the spot,” he declared. “The wood has been carefully cut away then put back. It won’t be difficult to remove. What time is David Weiss arriving?”

“He’ll be here in the morning.”

“Hiding jewels back here would be impossible unless a hole was carved out. Regardless, we’ll soon know.”

“Excuse me, I’m exhausted,” Phoebe interjected. “I’m going to take a nap. Donovan, are staying down here?”

“No, I need to relax a bit as well.”

“You both did a fantastic job,” Peter said gratefully. “I’ll send up some tea, then make sure you’re not disturbed.”

“Ah! Tea!” Donovan repeated with a chuckle. “The stuff of life. Thanks, that would be great.”

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