This was the first time I ever saw my father truly happy. I felt a great weight had lifted from my shoulders as I left his house. The complexities of one relationship were resolved as I now moved into a whole new phase of my life.
Evening fell and I was still in a carriage, en route to join the rest of our wedding party for dinner and an overnight stay at Lord Rochester’s estate. My head rested on my husband’s shoulder, while I gazed at the late spring landscape of Kent as it rushed by.
Father had not told me the name of the order to which he’d belonged, as he knew I would seek them out. Still, the little he’d told me of the order led me to wonder.
‘Do you belong to any secret societies?’ I sat up to ask Devere.
‘Do those kind of brotherhoods still exist?’
His question seemed to answer mine. ‘So, what do you know about this ancient bloodline of Kings we both belong to?’
Devere appeared startled by my knowledge. ‘I never did get around to telling you about that. Did Lady Charlotte mention it?’ He didn’t want to accuse me outright.
I could have lied. Still, if I was going to make a go of my marriage, I felt the truth was best. ‘No. I read your mind that night at Hartsford Manor.’
‘So…that was the cause of your hasty departure that night?’ Devere smiled, but I couldn’t tell if he felt amused or violated. He folded his arms as he thought about the premise some more. ‘And have you been digging around in my head on a regular basis?’
‘No, only that once. Oh, and when you kissed me earlier…but that wasn’t purposeful on my behalf,’ I realised.
‘And what did you perceive from me then?’ he queried, unable to suppress his grin, as he felt sure he’d had sex on the brain.
‘I saw your memory of me in the stream at Hartsford Park,’ I told him honestly and he seemed surprised and rather relieved.
Devere recalled the moment. ‘The scene reminded me of something John Keats wrote.
I smiled at his romantic notion. ‘A very beautiful way to avoid my question.’
His amorous mood ebbed, no doubt due to my obvious lack of romance. ‘What do I know about my bloodline? Well, I know I’m descended from Robin Hood,’ he said cheerily. ‘He was Robert de Vere.’
‘And?’ I prompted and he shrugged.
‘My family have always been close to the Crown of England and France, and so have many families. The Cavandish family for example.’
‘My father was made to join a secret brotherhood if he wished to marry my mother, and yet you have not been approached by anyone?’ I thought this odd as my blood and talents were obviously prized by some.
‘I feel I have grown beyond need of a group of allies,’ he announced, obviously not taking me very seriously. ‘And besides, they don’t sound like a very nice organisation if they would threaten a dear fellow like Lord Hereford.’
I went quiet for a moment as I contemplated all I had been told.
‘May I ask you something?’ Devere took my hands in his to get my attention. ‘You said that you’d promised Lord Hereford that you wouldn’t invade his mind—’
‘On purpose,’ I added and gave a nod. ‘Yet he never assumed to be so intimate with me as you are, Mr Devere.’
‘Then perhaps you might enlighten me as to your father’s secret defence system, so that I have some means to defend myself?’
‘If you have a clear conscience then why should you need such a defence system…hmmm?’ I toyed with him.
‘But what if I wanted to surprise you? I should have precious little chance of ever doing that.’ He struck me as a man who would get great pleasure from giving such gifts.
‘I do like surprises,’ I confessed, mulling over if I should grant his request for information. He couldn’t use this means if he were sleeping, so if I ever really needed to extract information from him, I could. His lips gently pressed against my breastbone.
‘Please,’ he uttered, and sat upright to appeal for mercy with his big baby blues.
I reached up and played with a blond ringlet that was tucked behind his ear. It twirled around my finger and was smooth and pleasing to touch. ‘Very well, I will tell you.’
He turned his face into the palm of my hand and kissed it.
‘It’s childish,’ I admitted, ‘but it does work. Father just repeats over and over in his mind, “I’m not thinking about anything”, until I give up trying to get inside his head.’
Devere laughed. ‘Shall we give it a try?’ He moved in closer.
‘I’m game if you are.’ I kissed him and for a while I was immersed in the act, then, the next thing I knew I was looking down on myself, naked on a bed. I was being made love to, and I would have thought it was my own future sight or imagination, but then I realised I was experiencing the act from Devere’s point of view. It was strange and I pulled away.
