Gene of Isis

Albray nodded. I have avenues I might investigate for our cause, if you would leave me at liberty in your world.

‘And what is our cause, Albray?’

I suggest you read on and decide that for yourself. He eagerly awaited my permission to be at liberty.

‘But how do I know I can trust you at liberty if I am unaware of what business you are about?’ I was just teasing. I did trust him, because, beyond the little conversation I’d had with him, he never seemed to steer Ashlee wrong.

I’m afraid you’ll have to trust your instinct on that count, Albray replied.

He knew that I felt well disposed toward him. ‘I think it is very unfair that you should have telepathic access to my thoughts and emotions, and that I should not be awarded the same insight into you.’

No offence intended, Miss Montrose, he grinned, knowing his reply had cheek, but if you strove to perfect your psychic skills you could know anything you desire about me.

‘Did you mention that to Ashlee?’ I hadn’t read anything to that effect yet.

It didn’t take long for Miss Granville to discover it all on her own.

I hated the way Albray spoke with such admiration about her, when he obviously thought so little of me. ‘I understand that I must be a great disappointment to you.’ I couldn’t believe I was jealous of a dead woman and her relationship with this knight who’d been dead even longer!

‘On the contrary,’ Albray assured, ‘you are too smart for your own good…which is why you need to redefine your beliefs about the boundaries

between fact and myth. Only then will you comprehend the events that are about to unfold in your life.’

I considered his words, which were not exactly as complimentary as I would have liked. I wanted him to flirt with me, as he had with Ashlee. Every other man with whom I came in contact admired me, so why not this man? ‘Feel free to be about your business,’ I granted, not wanting to bore him with my insecurities.

Just call if you need me and I shall return at once. He departed through the wall of my tent as I nodded.

‘It’s not like it matters whether he’s attracted to me or not.’ I struggled with my moodiness, but it was really depressing to consider that the most desirable man I’d ever met had been dead for eight hundred years. I dug out Ashlee’s huge journal and found the key to open it on my key ring. ‘Come on, Ashlee. Share your insights so that I might understand what the hell our friend is so worried about.’

I opened to the page marked by a gold ribbon attached to the middle of the upper spine of the huge volume and noted that I was about a quarter of the way into the tale. I was tempted to turn to the last chapter and cut to the chase, but how much would I miss learning about Albray if I did? ‘Just continue where you left off,’ I lectured, not wanting to waste time debating the issue with myself. ‘Now, where was I?’ I scanned down the page and found my place…

—my heart was shattered by my failed romance, but also exulting to be on the run, free of everyone and everything that had ever held authority over me.

Next there was a break in the text and a special note that read: From this point on, the section of this tale that involves Mr Devere was copied from the Honeymoon journal of my dear friend, the Countess of Oxford, Lady Susan Devere. Eyewitnesses confirm that her contribution to this journal is a truthful and accurate account of events.

LESSON 9

ENLIGHTENMENT FROM THE HONEYMOON JOURNAL OF LADY SUSAN DEVERE

No one noticed Ashlee’s absence until early afternoon the next day.

Mr Devere’s manservant, Mr Tibbs, who had been instructed not to disturb his lord in the morning, ventured into his lord’s quarters later that day to find his new mistress and all her belongings gone and his lordship in such a fit of sleep that he could not be woken.

I dared say nothing of what I’d seen late last night.

The house steward informed Mr Tibbs that Mrs Devere’s maid had told him that Mrs Devere was planning a surprise for her husband and had borrowed a coach to take to town and make arrangements.

This prevented the alarm being raised until evening, but when Ashlee did not return and Mr Devere did not wake, my husband and brother began to feel uneasy.

Ashlee hadn’t mentioned anything about poisoning her husband before departing, and I couldn’t help but wonder what she’d done to make him sleep as he did. We fetched a physician to look at Mr Devere, and the diagnosis was that he was in fine health. No poison, nor a blow to the body, had caused his fit of sleep; as long as he awoke within the next few days, my brother-in-law would be none the worse for the rest.

This was quite true of Mr Devere’s physical condition, but when he did finally awake on the morning of our third day at the chateau, his emotional and mental condition were not so stable.

My husband was with his brother when he awoke. I was waiting in the adjoining boudoir, hoping to obtain some clue as to why Ashlee had fled in secrecy.

‘No!’ I heard the cry of loss ring out. In fact, I suspected the whole household had heard it. The pain was so heartfelt that I couldn’t help but feel for the man. ‘God no, don’t let her have jumped to the wrong conclusion.’

Then, everything went quiet. I crept up to the door and placed my ear against it. I heard the sound of ripping paper and there was silence for a moment. Earnest suppressed a groan of despair.

‘What does it say?’ my husband beseeched his brother, and I assumed they’d found Ashlee’s letter.