Gene of Isis (8 page)

He was aware that he had hardly made a dent in what he suspected was a huge complex. The only reason he was not still there was due to the local authorities deciding to withdraw their permission for foreigners to excavate the site—just as they’d uncovered a chamber door that threatened to lead somewhere interesting. Douglas Hamilton had been locked out of the Holy Land and had not been permitted to return there since.

The viscount retired early, as he’d had a full day of activity. He cursed his age and bade me goodnight. He was growing fond of me, as traces of a rosy pink glow were penetrating a large black cloud encasing his heart centre, which I had been trying to ignore. My understanding was that Lord Hamilton’s heart died along with his wife, and as he had no children to love and no career or project, his heart centre had shut down for want of use. I feared that his physical heart might soon follow suit.

I retired shortly after Lord Hamilton to gaze upon the fire in my room and allow my thoughts to further dwell upon him. As I sat there, trying to imagine that the heat of the fire was a desert sun
beating against my face, my hand had come to rest upon the stone shoved between my breast and my corset for safekeeping.

I was so preoccupied with my current mood that I had no desire to call upon my new otherworldly associate this evening. I wanted to retire into sleep and allow visions of ancient and sacred places to fill my dreams.

I leant back in my chair and contemplated ringing for Nanny to assist me to undress, when from the corner of my eye I saw a note slide under my door.

The note was sealed with wax but not stamped, and upon opening the door I realised the messenger must have departed the hallway in haste.

I shut myself inside my room before opening the note which read—
Look out your window.
I crossed the room to the window and, pulling the heavy drapes slightly apart, I spied Mr Devere standing by the gaslight feature in the courtyard, with my missing bonnet in hand. He grinned and waved.

I closed the curtain at once. ‘What must I do to be rid of that man!’ I searched for my shawl. ‘I’ve only known him one day and already I wish we’d never met!’ I resolved that I’d best go fetch my bonnet if I wished to avoid the risk of having to explain to anyone else how it went missing.

The temperature was chilly and I made it clear that I didn’t appreciate being dragged outdoors as I curtseyed politely. ‘This is a little inappropriate, don’t you think, Mr Devere?’

‘Well, I have been trying to get you alone all day to return it, Miss Granville,’ he explained, in good humour, ‘but your fascination with Lord Hamilton forced me to this solution.’

‘Could you not have had a maid drop it back to my room?’

‘But that might have led to gossip,’ he suggested with a cheeky smile.

‘Well, I daresay if anyone sees us at present it will generate far more gossip.’ I tried not to be amused by my own comment. ‘So, I bid you good evening—’

‘Don’t go.’ He reached for my wrist to prevent my departure and then immediately let go. ‘Tell me what you were doing with your bare feet in an icycold stream at the break of dawn this morning?’

‘Fishing,’ I responded in jest and gave a laugh.

‘Well, I daresay you caught something.’ The man’s tone turned intimate and goodwill oozed from his being.

‘Yes.’ I pretended not to catch his meaning. ‘A cold, most likely, that is being irritated by this night air.’ This time when I made for indoors he did not make a move to stop me.

‘Funny, you don’t seem the social climbing type, Miss Granville.’

His words stopped me in my tracks. I turned back to face him and wonder at his implication.

‘Would you really choose a title over true love and happiness?’ he posited with an arrogance so familiar that I was offended almost beyond response.

‘You assume a great deal from one day’s acquaintance,’ I replied, boiling with fury inside.

‘I fear that a distant assessment is all the opportunity you shall ever allow me, because I was born a second son.’

My heart sank at his low assessment of my character, but what was more worrying was that I cared what he thought—why? ‘I do not feel it fair
that you should judge me by the desires of other women. I have a different set of values, motives and goals from most of my gender, so far as I am aware…except perhaps the Dowager Countess of Derby.’

He nodded his head to grant that my governess had a somewhat doubtful reputation in society. ‘I had the great honour of meeting her once, when I was about twelve years old.’ He seemed more at ease now that we had found a conversation and departed the argument. ‘I stumbled upon her taking solace in a quiet moment, separated from the ball that my parents were hosting. She asked me if I wanted to learn something about myself.’ He nodded and smiled to confirm he had taken her up on the offer, and when he raised his eyebrows, I assumed he’d found her discourse very interesting. ‘I do believe that, in the hour she spoke to me that night, she told me more about myself than I have managed to deduce since.’

His hearty laugh amused me. He was rather different to your average, stuffy, run-of-the-mill nobleman. He actually had me interested. ‘Did she speak to you of your nature, or future events?’ I knew my governess and the courses her insights took.

‘Both.’ He sounded surprised that I had managed to predict the turn of their discussion. ‘I’ve never spoken of it to anyone before, but I feel I must tell
you,
for the Dowager Lady Cavandish predicted many events in my life…and I do believe that she predicted my meeting you, Miss Granville.’

Now that twist in the conversation I had not expected. ‘Why do you think so?’ Damn my curiosity, I had to ask.

Mr Devere suddenly became uncomfortable and he hesitated. ‘I didn’t expect that we’d be having
this conversation so soon…perhaps it would be best left for when you have had more time to assess my character. For I am not the money-hungry lord wish-to-be that I fear you take me for. I’d like a little time to prove that to you.’

My mind went blank. I was shocked that one day in society could lead to such complicated emotional situations! What was I going to say to this man, for clearly he did carry feelings for me already. I had been warned, and well knew, that my kin took their courting very seriously…but one day! What if this was what every day would bring? I now realised why women in my position chose to marry so fast—to escape situations like this! ‘Believe me when I say that I would only bring you grief. It is because you are such a fine being, Mr Devere, that I know you shall be far happier, contented and prosperous without me in your life.’

‘Contented and prosperous I’ll grant, for I have been warned that would be the case. But shall I be happier? I do believe you will be proved wrong on that count.’

I could usually sense a lie and he was far too confident to be lying. ‘Well, I cannot comment, as I do not know the details of the confidence to which you refer. Lady Charlotte never disclosed any prediction of our meeting to me.’

‘Did she not?’ He seemed surprised, and became quiet, pondering his next move.

Mr Devere badly wanted to tell me something and I just had to know. I attuned to his mental activity, which was accomplished by raising the intake of cosmic energy into my spirit-body; unfortunately this also tended to drown out whatever conversation or noise was going on in the
physical world. If Mr Devere said anything beyond this point I did not hear it.

But she described you so perfectly. You would be like no woman I’d ever met . .. at home in the wilds and with any class of people. You even have the look of a wood nymph about you, just as Lady Cavandish described.

Then I perceived Mr Devere’s memory of his discourse with Lady Charlotte, who appeared to be much the same age as when I had met her. She was holding both of the lad’s hands and saying, ‘Like me, she will know things nobody else knows and see beyond all things. For she is of an ancient bloodline of kings, as are you, Master Earnest.’

I smothered a gasp, as Lady Charlotte had not mentioned any such thing to me. I was suddenly fearful that Mr Devere had knowledge of me that I did not have.

‘Goodnight, Mr Devere.’ I curtseyed and departed, ignoring his request for an explanation for my hurried departure.

Blessed Nanny, who read all the confusing events of the day in my expression, aided in removing my attire without asking one question to disturb my quiet contemplation.

What if it wasn’t me that Lady Charlotte spoke of in Mr Devere’s memory? Maybe he’s got entirely the wrong woman! That would indicate there was another woman with my unusual proclivities who was going to enter Mr Devere’s life; now I really was clutching at straws. Yet, I do believe that anything is possible—EXCEPT that I might be destined to be Mrs Devere. That was not going to happen. I was not born to socialise; I wanted to be an explorer,
like Lord Hamilton, and visit all the wondrous places he’d told me of today.

‘Why was I not born a man?’ I asked Nanny as she tucked me into bed.

‘Because women need more power,’ she said, departing with her candle out the door.

‘If I’d been born a man I could go to Lord Hamilton’s manor and spend time in his company without worry for reputation and rumour. I could travel abroad alone and not have the burden of dragging anyone else along with me…except for Nanny of course, if she’d come.’

I rolled my treasure stone around in my fingers, wishing I’d summoned a genie to it, who would grant me such wishes. ‘Perhaps in the East I shall find a genie one day?’ I closed my eyes to imagine the mysterious desert location where I might encounter such an entity.

Exotic desert locations had preoccupied my dreams as wished; only, every time I ran into trouble during my explorations, Mr Devere was there to help me out. Our association had seemed altogether too close for my comfort and I awoke with a deep sense of him clinging to my being.

At first the recollection tickled at the centre of my ribcage and I smiled to greet the new day. Then, when my logic collected all the fragmented symbols of my dreams and put them into perspective—then, I was not so pleased.

‘He is just after your money,’ I lectured as I clambered out of bed to give myself a good talking-to in the mirror of my dresser. ‘He’s just a pretty face who’ll become as boring as the rest, once given an estate and a taste of true power.’

‘He does have a very pretty face though,’ Nanny commented, teasing.

‘I don’t want to be wife to an up-and-coming lord!’ I told myself very firmly in the mirror. ‘I have far more promising plans.’

‘Would her ladyship care to share our future with her dear old Nanny?’ She approached to start dressing me.

‘I would rather marry Lord Hereford and keep him company until death comes for him. I shall be left a Dowager Viscountess-in-mourning, free to take up my husband’s work where he left off.’ This plan was only just dawning on me and it sounded wonderful. ‘You and I would be happy, Lord Hereford would be happy, and papa would be furious, for the family line would die with me.’

‘Why do you want to anger Lord Suffolk so?’ Nanny felt she should speak up for her employer.

‘Simply because Father would be angered if I marry a man of my choosing and not his. Lord Suffolk is no father to me! Lord Derby would be happy for me, because he truly cares about what I think and feel.’

Yes, this was my goal, my destiny! I could hear my father’s voice hollering…

‘No daughter of mine is going to be an archaeologist!’

My father stood in his study at the Granville townhouse in London, holding a letter of proposal in each hand. I’d been dreading this confrontation for weeks now, but I was determined to have my way. After spending much time together in Derbyshire, Lord Hamilton had, with my encouragement, proposed. The viscount had never
thought he would marry again and assured me sincerely that he would not impose himself on me, in a marital sense. He’d chuckled at the thought of what his money-hungry relatives would think of him taking a young wife—and begetting an heir on her who might disinherit the lot of them. Still, the simple fact was that he relished my company and also the idea of having a student to pass his knowledge on to. Marriage seemed the very thing, if we were to both get what we wanted.

Unfortunately, Mr Devere was also convinced that I was destined to marry him; hence, the two proposals in my father’s possession.

I had written to Lady Charlotte about the incident of her reading for the young Mr Devere, and she responded thus:

I
do have a recollection of reading for one of the Devere boys when I was in Oxfordshire long ago, but in relation to the specifics of that conversation, you know as well as I do that psychics seldom recall prophecy when they come out of trance. Memory, like myth, is unreliable and does not give a factual account of an event, in my experience, as it can be twisted to suit the situation and with a little imagination can become quite distorted over time.

I felt sure this was the case with Mr Devere. I held nothing in common with the man, whereas my connection to Lord Hamilton was ten times more evident to me. He felt like home, and, yes, I suspected I was seeking the father figure I’d always wanted, but I didn’t care to understand the hidden workings of my mind. It just felt too right to be the wrong move to make.

‘Young Devere is a far more suitable match, and has even agreed to link our name to his in regard to
the estate.’ Father chuckled, pleased about that. ‘My grandson will inherit my estate and my name.’

‘If that is all you desire, Father, it might be easier if I just stay single, have an affair and bear a bastard for you.’

‘Don’t you get vulgar with me, miss.’ He let loose his frustration as his energy field filled with stormy clouds.

What infuriated me was that it wasn’t my whorish remark that had made him angry; rather, I’d taken the liberty of calling him Father, as only sons were permitted to do.

‘Mr Devere is the only suitor to whom I shall consent,’ he told me, adamantly.

‘I have not needed your consent since I turned twelve,’ was my retort. ‘Disinherit me, by all means.’