‘It is a little more complicated than that. You see…’ I had to take a deep breath for this one. ‘Um, it seems our sister has awakened these talents in Mr Devere as well.’
‘What!’ My lord was astonished by the claim.
‘And that’s not all,’ I warned, but was saved from continuing the confession alone when I spotted our coachman sitting on the side of the road. He was nursing his head, but was obviously not seriously injured.
Lord Devere pulled the carriage to a stop, so the driver could once again take the reins. ‘How long have you known about this?’
‘Our brother only told me after Ashlee disappeared.’ I saw my beloved’s jaw tense in anger. ‘Please, my lord, your brother is very scared and saddened by all that is unfolding around him. I fear that he is in greater trouble than he will even disclose to me.’
My husband took a deep breath, and patted my hand to reassure me that he was not angry, and that he would be diplomatic.
I felt lightened of a great load by the time we arrived at the gypsy camp. The air had been cleared between the Devere brothers, and even though they were still at odds in their beliefs, my lord had resolved to continue helping his brother if only to see where this little adventure led. Still, Mr Devere would not discuss the brotherhood to which he and their father belonged. And, rather than feeling overlooked, my husband was extremely glad he’d been left out of the club that was now causing his younger brother so much grief. My lord didn’t ask Mr Devere to prove his claim of psychic talent. I felt that perhaps my husband didn’t want his scepticism overturned, at least not today.
It took a while to establish what language to converse with the gypsies in, but after a couple of attempts we all settled on Italian. My Italian was a little better than that of my male companions and the women seemed more disposed to conversing with me, so I urged Mr Devere to allow me to do the questioning.
It was the elder of the band who spoke with me; she led me to a caravan and sat me down on one of the seats by the table there. Mr Devere followed us, and as there was no seat for him, he stood behind me and placed his hands on the back of my chair to listen in and try to follow the conversation. The old gypsy insisted that she hadn’t seen any mademoiselle, but invited us to join them for the evening meal as it was growing late.
Mr Devere shook his head; he wanted to keep moving and was already halfway to the carriage.
I thanked the old woman and as I rose she gripped my hands and closed her eyes for a moment. ‘You are a good friend to this woman you seek,’ she told me with a reassuring smile. ‘All will be well for her, and you.’ She let go of my hands.
I hadn’t had my fortune told in a long while and I was pleased to have good news. ‘Shall I find her, do you think?’
The gypsy woman shook her head and smiled warmly. ‘How can you find what is not lost?’
I felt I caught her meaning and was amused. ‘It is true, Ashlee is never lost. Perhaps I should have asked, would she find us?’
The old woman nodded to concede that was a more apt question. ‘All in divine order,’ she replied as I wandered toward the carriage from which both my companions now beckoned.
‘You gave up very easily, Mr Devere.’ I seated myself beside my husband in the carriage, feeling a little frustrated. ‘Could we not have taken up the offer of dinner? We might have learned something. Now we have run out of leads.’
Mr Devere ignored me and motioned the coachman closer to have a quiet word with him. ‘Take us to Orleans.’
The coachman looked as if he had had enough for one day, but he confirmed the order and acted on it.
‘My wife was sitting in that chair,’ Mr Devere motioned toward where I’d been sitting with the
old gypsy, ‘when she made the decision to go to Orleans.’
‘Why Orleans?’ I wondered. ‘That seems a strange route to Italy.’ Privately, I thought that Ashlee would head for the exotic Eastern lands, as Hereford had been so fond of them.
‘She’s on a rescue mission,’ he confessed, very concerned, and a little sad. ‘I sense there is a male travelling with her whom she trusts implicitly.’ He looked to me for confirmation.
At first I was stumped by the suggestion. ‘Ashlee does not have a lover, if that is what you are suggesting.’ I dismissed his foul implication. ‘If she did, I would know of it, I assure you.’
Mr Devere appeared thankful and ashamed. ‘There is somebody, I know it!’ He begged me to think harder. ‘A friend, perhaps?’
I strained to think, but outside of my family there was no one. ‘No,’ I assured him, ‘men do not interest Ashlee—’ And there was the answer! I clicked my fingers, having solved the puzzle. ‘It’s a spirit.’
Mr Devere knew I was right and smiled, relieved to have an alternative to the more obvious lover scenario that he’d envisaged. My Lord Devere, however, was distressed.
‘Have you both gone mad?’ he growled. ‘Just listen to yourselves. I think you are making this all up as we go along, and Mrs Devere is really back in Paris.’
‘I would not play games with her life,’ Mr Devere assured his brother. ‘I am happy to go on alone. I’d move faster on horseback.’
I feared that this was the excuse Lord Devere had been waiting for in order to pull out of the chase and return to Paris.
‘I am hardly going to pull out now. All this
Clearly, Mr Devere would have kept going if given the choice. He looked out the window and nodded.
‘She’ll have to rest too, Earnest.’ Lord Devere knew what his brother was thinking.
