making love to Ashlee, but also the love she evoked in him.
Which brings me back to the excitement and drama of how we came to be in hot pursuit of another carriage.
‘Earnest, I demand that you stop goading our coachman. You’re endangering all our lives!’ Lord Devere put his foot down.
Our brother reluctantly stuck his upper body out the coach window, and as he conversed with the driver a coach wheel collided with a rock. Earnest disappeared out the window, and the driver was catapulted out of his seat and onto the side of the road.
Fortunately, Mr Devere had kept hold of the luggage rack on the roof, from which he now dangled and as the coach was speeding along he was unable to find a foothold.
‘Nobody ever listens to me.’ My lord sprang into action. He opened the coach door and reached out to haul his brother inside the carriage. Before Mr Devere had even drawn breath, my Lord Devere was out the window, on the roof and into the driver’s seat. He had a bit of a time getting hold of the reins, and even when he had them in hand, the horses were at a charge and not easy to steady.
Just as we felt the horses finally submitting to my husband’s will and we had breathed a sigh of relief, the pace of our passage picked up again.
Mr Devere called out the window to his brother to find out what was happening, when he spotted the coach up ahead. ‘James is a good man,’ he told me grinning from ear to ear, and sat back in his seat, relieved to have achieved his goal.
‘That he is,’ I agreed, ‘good enough to deserve the truth from us.’ I felt guilty keeping him in the dark about so many things.
Lord Devere called the other coach to a stop and when the coachman did as he asked, my husband finally brought our transport to a halt alongside. Mr Devere was out the door like a flash and off to question the coachman.
My lord jumped from the driver’s seat to assist me out of the carriage. He was windblown from his ordeal and there was colour in his cheeks and a large smile on his face. ‘That was rather more fun than I expected,’ he confessed. ‘Though I hope our coachman hasn’t been too badly injured.’
‘For such a reserved gentleman, it seems you have a hidden audacious streak, Lord Devere…that was frightfully gallant.’ I kissed my husband, for I was very proud of his heroics.
Although my lord was enjoying my admiration, we became aware that Mr Devere was getting rather agitated with the driver of the other coach.
‘Look, I know that you transported my wife out of Paris,’ Mr Devere was saying.
‘I told you my fare was not a Mrs Devere, just a mademoiselle and her mother,’ the coachman barked, getting ready to move on.
‘Miss Granville.’ Mr Devere attempted to guess the identity of the mademoiselle.
‘No! Now if you don’t mind I—’
‘Miss Winston,’ I called, and the coachman calmed a little when he saw me. That was the thing with Frenchmen—they had far more patience with foreign women than with foreign men, especially if that woman also spoke the language.
‘That’s a bit more like it,’ he admitted, somewhat vaguely.
‘A bit more like it, or exactly it?’ Mr Devere demanded to know, at his wit’s end.
‘I don’t remember!’ the coachman insisted, until my lord held up a bag full of gold francs.
‘Does this jog your memory?’ Lord Devere jangled the pouch to make it clear it contained many coins.
The coach driver’s eyes opened wide and his memory was miraculously restored. ‘I left the mademoiselle late yesterday at the gypsy camp further down the road.’
‘Gypsies!’ My Lord Devere’s worried expression returned, as he tossed the bag of coin to our informant in payment.
‘Then we need to move quickly,’ resolved Mr Devere, moving to take up the coachman’s position on our carriage.
‘If it’s all the same to you, little brother, I’ll drive until we recover our coachman,’ Lord Devere suggested. ‘I assume we’d all prefer to remain able-bodied and in good health?’
I took advantage of the novelty of the situation and rode up front with Lord Devere as we returned to our original direction and searched for our coachman.
‘There is something I have to tell you about our dear sister.’ I tested the waters. I had never seen my husband in such light spirits, so I guessed now was the best opportunity to bring everything out in the open.
‘I am listening,’ he prompted, still smiling.
‘Ashlee is different to most people,’ I began awkwardly.
‘Well, I can honestly say I have never met the like of her.’ He did not sound entirely pleased about that.
‘You know that my aunt, Lady Charlotte, is famed for certain talents she possesses.’ I thought suggestive hints might work better than a straight confession.
He looked at me, his good cheer waning. ‘I don’t believe in psychics.’
‘Well, I dare say you don’t believe in Buddha either, but that does not mean he never existed.’ The comment was a little shocking to him, but it did get my point across nicely. ‘There are many unexplained mysteries in this world, Lord Devere, but denying their existence will never further our understanding or make them disappear.’
Lord Devere did not look happy, but he nodded to concede my point. ‘Are you going to tell me that our sister is a psychic?’ He glanced at me, awaiting my answer.
