‘No offence, dear friend, but I am not asking for your counsel in this matter.’ I finished strapping on my weapons belt and waited for my knight to move aside so that I might join the rest of the band for breakfast before they packed up for the journey south.
‘Are you speaking from experience, Albray?’ I strongly suspected that he was.
‘Well, we all have to make mistakes,’ I told him and exited, to be greeted by Cingar who, I discovered, was playing for my benefit.
‘I shall thus stir your soul to wakefulness every day,’ Cingar vowed.
‘Every day until you are wed,’ Chavi added in warning, for she clearly saw how her grandson doted on me.
When Chavi and Cingar began arguing rather fervently in a dialect I couldn’t understand, I left them to see Nanny about breakfast. FROM THE HONEYMOON JOURNAL OF LADY SUSAN DEVERE
I must say that I am very, very annoyed with my friend, Ashlee Devere, for I feel that her latest stunt to elude her husband was nothing short of cruel!
I can hardly believe our dear sister allowed us to think she was suffering in prison this last week when, in fact, she was probably halfway to Italy by now. Not only has she caused Mr Devere much distress and torment, but James and I have been worried out of our minds.
We would still be commuting to the estate of the Duc de Guise every day to plead Ashlee’s case had Devere not found the opportunity to kiss the hand of the Duchess de Guise, whereby he learned the truth and was devastated by it. That Ashlee would go to such lengths to lose him weighed heavily on his heart.
‘I am beginning to wonder why I continue this pursuit. I shall never be able to win back her heart and trust.’ Mr Devere’s eyes turned to the rain beyond our carriage window; the sombre weather complemented his grave mood.
‘Of course you will.’
I was surprised when Lord Devere beat me to reassure our brother.
‘All we have to do is get your dear wife to stand still long enough to hear your side of the story.’
‘I’ll never catch her.’ Mr Devere sounded so defeated. ‘She has a week’s head start.’
‘Our sister is travelling with a large caravan, and it is bound to move more slowly than we do,’ I reasoned. ‘And although no one in Italy will know who Ashlee is, I feel sure that Cingar Choron will be easy enough to track down.’ I reached across and placed a hand over my brother’s and squeezed it tight; I had never known anyone to be so cursed by love. I recalled Mr Devere retrieving Ashlee’s charm from the ground on the first day they’d met, and how she had warned him that he would be cursed for his politeness. ‘Don’t give up on her yet. If Ashlee is in as much danger as you suspect, then you’ll get an opportunity to prove where your allegiances truly lie.’
‘You’re right.’ Mr Devere took a deep breath and attempted a smile. ‘Thank you…both.’ He included James in the equation. ‘Your support through this has been invaluable, and very much appreciated.’
‘Think nothing of it,’ Lord Devere insisted. ‘It has been a very interesting journey thus far, and no doubt more educational and stimulating than loitering about, and entertaining, at the Chateau de Vere for months.’
Both Mr Devere and I were rather surprised by my husband’s change in attitude.
‘I’m rather glad I came along.’ My husband pulled out his paper and a cigar, and as content as can be, sat back to read. ‘This travelling business is a lot more character building than I gave it credit for. I’m beginning to see why the Grand Tour was so popular.’
Since the Industrial Revolution, there was too much money to be made at home in England for young lords to indulge their lust for culture and travel.
‘I agree.’ I voiced my feelings on the matter. ‘It is fortunate that we have taken this opportunity to see some of the world now, before the House of Lords and family life consume all of our time.’
I had to admit that I was relishing the adventure myself, and after Ashlee’s latest deception I would know better than to waste any of my enjoyment worrying about her welfare. FROM THE TRAVEL JOURNALS OF MRS ASHLEE DEVERE
Travelling with gypsies had more advantages than I had originally imagined.
They knew the towns to avoid en route, and always went around the cities where government checkpoints might give them trouble.
Fortunately for me, Cingar’s people were well-established traders in southern France and Italy, holding papers of passage for every region through which we passed.
The church had been trying to alter the nomadic lifestyle of the Rom and the other gypsy tribes of Europe for centuries. In some kingdoms, enslavement, imprisonment, deportation and having their children taken from them and placed in foster care, remained a very real threat; like the Chorons, many gypsy families had turned to trade to justify their nomadic lifestyle to the church and to be seen as benefiting society.
In the towns they did stop at, Cingar knew all the officials by name and his offerings of rare spices, fabrics and jewellery from as far afield as Arabia Petrea were always well received. In return, the gypsies were granted free passage and a patch of ground on which to camp for an evening or two. There were also several coppersmiths among the men of the clan and their services were in demand wherever they went.
In tiny villages, Cingar’s way with a violin was all the more appreciated—for master musicians did not usually visit these provincial venues. Many residents were not averse to having their fortunes told by the gypsy women either.
