Morning sunlight streamed through the leaded glass windows of Greenwich Palace, bathing the royal study in golden light. The palace gardens outside had begun their spring transformation—crocuses and early tulips dotting the meticulously maintained beds while fruit trees displayed their first delicate blossoms. The gentle warmth promised the coming summer, though English weather's capricious nature meant such promises often remained unfulfilled.
Bobby Kestrel stood before the hearth in Queen Elizabeth's private study, watching as she reviewed the papers before her. Three days had passed since Mary Tudor's final breath, and London still echoed with the proclamation of Elizabeth's accession. Church bells had rung continuously for two days, their peals carrying across the Thames to announce England's new sovereign.
Bobby had remained at court through the immediate transition—a stabilizing presence as Elizabeth assumed the mantle of monarchy. The council had functioned exactly as designed, transferring authority seamlessly between Tudor sisters. Now, with Elizabeth firmly established upon her throne and essential matters organized, Bobby prepared to return to Whitehaven.
"The council recommends June thirtieth for the coronation," Elizabeth said, not looking up from the document she was reading. "Sufficient time to complete preparations while respecting the mourning period for my sister." She glanced up, catching the flicker of concern that crossed Bobby's face. "You seem displeased with this timing, Lord Kestrel."
Bobby turned from the hearth, his expression smoothing into careful neutrality. "Not displeased, Your Majesty. Merely...calculating."
"Calculating what, precisely?" Elizabeth set down her quill, giving him her full attention. The crown might be new upon her head, but the sharp intelligence in her eyes remained unchanged. She wore a gown of deep emerald that complemented her copper hair, which was arranged in an elegant style beneath a modest hood adorned with pearls.
"Whether certain promises can be kept within established parameters," Bobby replied, his usual cryptic manner intact despite the momentous changes of recent days.
Elizabeth studied him, her shrewd eyes missing nothing. "You promised to witness my coronation."
"I did."
"And now you're concerned you won't be present."
It wasn't a question.
Bobby moved to the window, looking out over the awakening gardens. "The timing cuts close to certain...unavoidable obligations."
Elizabeth stiffened in her chair. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the document she'd been reading, crinkling the expensive parchment. "You speak of your departure."
"Yes."
The single syllable hung between them, weighted with implications neither wished to fully articulate. Elizabeth had known of Bobby's eventual departure since their earliest conversations—a fact he had never concealed despite its inconvenient truth. The quantum temporal energy accumulating within him would inevitably tear him from this reality, sending him to another timeline beyond recall or return.
"Is there truly no way?" Elizabeth asked, her voice carefully controlled despite the emotion beneath. "No possibility of remaining? Of finding alternative arrangements?"
What remained unspoken was clearer than what she had articulated. The memory of her prophetic vision—herself as Queen with Bobby as Lord Protector regardless of its explicit nature—hovered between them, an unrealized future now impossibly distant.
Bobby turned from the window with a weak smile that carried more sorrow than joy. "I would give anything to remain, Elizabeth. To witness the Golden Age you'll create. To serve England as it transforms under your guidance." He hesitated, then added with uncharacteristic humility, "God, it seems, has other plans for me."
Elizabeth's eyebrows rose slightly at his invocation of the divine. Despite his vast scientific understanding, Bobby had gradually developed a certain respect for religious faith during his time in Tudor England—not because he believed in conventional theology, but because he recognized the profound human need for meaning beyond material existence.
"Before you go," Elizabeth said carefully, "will you ever reveal your true self to me? All these months, these...intimate encounters, yet you remain an enigma wrapped in riddles."
Bobby crossed the chamber, taking the seat opposite her desk. "There are many truths, Elizabeth. The truth that matters most to you has already been revealed—my commitment to your ascension, my faith in your capability, my... affection for who you are beyond your title." He reached across the desk, briefly touching her hand. "Any more than that is merely invitation for heartbreak. Learn to accept what is, rather than what should be or might have been."
Elizabeth withdrew her hand, her expression revealing momentary frustration beneath her royal composure. The Tudor in her wanted complete understanding, total knowledge—the same driving curiosity that had made her a formidable scholar despite the limitations placed on female education. Yet she did not push further, recognizing the painful truth in his words.
"Whatever time remains is precious," she acknowledged. "I would not waste it on fruitless arguments." She straightened the documents before her, a gesture that seemed to help her organize her thoughts as well. "I once promised that when the crown was rightfully mine to wear, I would grant you anything within my power. You refused to name a specific reward then."
Bobby nodded. "Nothing material holds value to me, Elizabeth."
"Yet you've given me everything," she said quietly, recalling that he did demand everything even if it was hypothetical. "Knowledge beyond conventional understanding. Protection when I most needed it. Guidance that helped me navigate treacherous political waters." A flush colored her cheeks. "And physical intimacy that allowed me to experience pleasure without sacrificing the vir... virtuous status necessary for my reign."
Indeed, their physical relationship had been extraordinary in its creativity—Bobby had introduced Elizabeth to countless ways of achieving release without penetration, ensuring her technical virginity remained intact despite their rigorous coupling using every other orifice imaginable. She had discovered pleasures she hadn't known possible with his mouth between her thighs, his fingers exploring forbidden places, his cock thrusting between her breasts or against her lips or her... but never entering her maidenhood.
"You've given me more than you realize," Bobby responded. "Joy in existence. Meaningful connection. Physical pleasure that communicates more than words ever could." He gazed around the royal study. "These trappings of power—titles, lands, wealth—they hold no significance to me."
Elizabeth rose from her seat, moving to stand by the window where Bobby had stood moments ago. "They may hold no significance to you, but they matter greatly to those you'll leave behind." She turned to face him. "A Countess commands more respect than a Viscountess. And I fully intend to make you a Duke before..." She hesitated, unable to directly reference his departure. "Even if the title holds no meaning for you personally."
Her gaze shifted to a document on a side table—papers she had signed that morning elevating Bobby's status significantly, though he hadn't yet been informed. "I confess to certain jealousy regarding Lady Jane," she continued, changing subjects with royal prerogative. "She inherits all you've created here in England."
Bobby frowned slightly. "I haven't yet decided who will be Lady Kestrel."
"Everyone assumes it will be Jane," Elizabeth observed, returning to her seat. "How far have you gone with her, I wonder? And why not as far as with others, considering your relationships with various noblewomen are hardly secret?"
Bobby's expression hardened. "I would prefer not to discuss Jane in such terms, Your Majesty."
"You reject my question?" Elizabeth arched an eyebrow, momentarily every inch her father's daughter in her imperial displeasure.
"I suggest the question leads nowhere productive," Bobby countered diplomatically. "Whoever becomes Lady Kestrel faces a sorrowful existence—tied to a man who has disappeared without explanation or possibility of return." He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "Perhaps I shouldn't elevate anyone. Legal proceedings regarding my estate's management might prove simpler solution."
"Yet that still won't address the underlying issue," Elizabeth noted perceptively. "Jane would remain in mourning for a man who vanished, regardless of her title."
"Yes."
Elizabeth's lips curved into a knowing smile. "You've miscalculated, Lord Kestrel. By finding meaningful distractions for Jane—intellectual pursuits, council responsibilities, educational initiatives—you've inadvertently led her back to you. These pursuits merely remind her of who first showed her such freedom." Her expression turned wistful. "Freedom I myself can never fully know, now that the crown sits upon my head. My existence serves the nation, unlike Jane who could walk away to pursue personal happiness."
"You could walk away too," Bobby suggested quietly. "You merely need to do it."
Elizabeth shook her head firmly. "This is my destiny. One cannot run from destiny—merely postpone its arrival."
Bobby's expression turned peculiarly amused. "I wonder what my destiny might be, then. I've existed so long that the concept seems almost laughable."
"Perhaps your destiny is to enable others to fulfill theirs," Elizabeth suggested thoughtfully. "Without you, I would not be sitting here as Queen. Mary would have continued her Catholic restoration with Spanish support if she survived her endeavors. England's future would look dramatically different."
Bobby inclined his head, acknowledging her point. "An interesting perspective."
Elizabeth glanced down at the council documents spread across her desk, a reminder of the system Bobby had designed. "There's remarkable irony in this situation," she observed. "The council you created to constrain Mary's power now answers to me—effectively unifying both symbolic monarchy and practical authority in a single person."
"It seems existence occasionally produces elegant solutions beyond conscious design," Bobby agreed, not revealing anything.
They fell silent, each contemplating the strange circumstances that had brought them together across impossible odds—a ancient being from beyond time meeting the future Virgin Queen through prophetic dreams and quantum entanglement.
Elizabeth finally broke the silence. "The council meets in one hour. Will you attend?"
"Of course, Your Majesty."
"And afterward?" she asked, her expression carefully neutral despite the hint of vulnerability beneath.
Bobby understood her unspoken question. "I remain at Your Majesty's disposal for as long as circumstances permit."
Elizabeth nodded, satisfied with this answer for now. "Then I will see you at council, Viscount Kestrel." She glanced at the papers on the side table. "Or rather, Duke Kestrel of Whitehaven, as the documents I signed this morning now establish."
Bobby's eyebrows rose slightly, but he merely bowed in acknowledgment of this new honor. "Your Majesty is most generous."
"England rewards those who serve her well," Elizabeth replied formally. Then, with a glimmer of the private woman beneath the royal facade, she added, "And I reward those who serve me with equal devotion."
Bobby bowed once more before withdrawing, leaving Elizabeth alone with the weight of her new crown and the looming knowledge that the man who had helped her claim it would soon vanish from her life as mysteriously as he had entered it.
Through the window, spring sunshine continued illuminating the palace gardens, oblivious to the complex emotions swirling within the chamber. Life continued its relentless forward movement, caring nothing for human attachments or painful separations—a truth Bobby understood better than perhaps any being in existence.
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The Privy Council chambers buzzed with restrained excitement as members took their places around the massive oak table. This marked Queen Elizabeth's third official council session since her accession, and already her command of procedure impressed even the most skeptical members. She arrived precisely on schedule, entering with measured steps that projected royal dignity without the excessive ceremony her father had often demanded.
Bobby observed her from his position near the center of the table, noting how naturally she had assumed the mantle of sovereignty. She wore the same emerald gown from their earlier meeting, but had added the simple gold circlet that served as her daily crown until the coronation. Her copper hair gleamed in the chamber's light, framing a face that revealed nothing of their private conversation.
"My lords," Elizabeth began once seated, "we have considerable business to address today. Let us proceed without unnecessary ceremony."
The council moved through its agenda with remarkable efficiency. Trade agreements with the Hanseatic League, coastal defenses against potential French incursions, grain distribution following disappointing winter harvests—each topic received thorough consideration without digressive debate.
When discussion turned to Mary Tudor's funeral arrangements, Elizabeth maintained perfect composure despite the personal nature of the subject. "My sister deserves ceremony befitting her station," she stated firmly. "Westminster Abbey preparations will proceed according to established protocol for monarchs."
"I believe we should honor her deep Catholic faith while acknowledging the religious peace that defined the latter portion of her reign," Elizabeth continued, her voice steady despite the personal nature of discussing her sister's funeral.
William Cecil nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed, Your Majesty. Queen Mary's acceptance of Archbishop Cranmer performing her final rites demonstrated remarkable evolution in her religious tolerance."
"A tolerance we would do well to maintain," Elizabeth added, glancing briefly toward Jane Grey. "My sister came to understand that England benefits from peaceful coexistence of different faiths, even if that realization came reluctantly and late in her reign."
The council members murmured general agreement. After the initial religious upheavals during Mary's accession, the institutional framework Bobby had designed had gradually moderated her more extreme Catholic restoration efforts, resulting in an unprecedented religious compromise—Catholics practiced openly while Protestants maintained their worship with minimal interference.
"This religious peace represents one of my sister's greatest legacies," Elizabeth continued. "One I intend to preserve and strengthen."
The council proceeded to financial matters, where Cecil presented a comprehensive report on royal revenues and expenditures. Throughout these discussions, Bobby remained silent, observing the proceedings with quiet satisfaction. The governance system he had designed operated precisely as intended, with council members addressing issues efficiently without requiring his intervention.
"Before we conclude," Elizabeth said as the scheduled agenda neared completion, "I wish to formally announce an elevation of rank." She gestured toward a page who stepped forward with a rolled parchment bearing the royal seal. "It pleases the crown to elevate Viscount Robert Kestrel to the rank of Duke of Whitehaven, in recognition of his extraordinary service to England."
A ripple of surprise passed through the council. While Bobby's influence was unquestioned, such rapid elevation from viscount directly to duke represented unprecedented favor—especially for someone of relatively recent nobility.
Cecil accepted the document with a bow. "The council acknowledges Your Majesty's gracious recognition of Lord Kestrel's contributions."
Elizabeth's eyes met Bobby's briefly across the table. "Duke Whitehaven's innovations have advanced England's prosperity significantly. His agricultural techniques at Whitehaven Estate have increased yields by nearly forty percent, while his shipbuilding methods have produced vessels superior to any in Europe." Her voice carried genuine admiration despite the formal setting. "Such exceptional service deserves exceptional recognition."
Bobby inclined his head in acknowledgment, maintaining appropriate formality despite the extraordinary honor. "Your Majesty honors me beyond my deserving. I have merely applied knowledge to practical concerns facing the realm."
Jane Grey spoke for the first time during the session, her clear voice carrying surprising authority despite her youth. "If I may, Your Majesty, Duke Whitehaven's educational initiatives deserve particular recognition. His establishment of the Whitehaven School for Mathematics and Natural Philosophy provides unprecedented opportunities for scholars regardless of financial circumstances."
Elizabeth nodded approvingly. "Lady Jane raises an excellent point. Education represents foundation for England's future prosperity." She paused, studying Jane with thoughtful appreciation. "Your own educational endeavors have demonstrated remarkable results, Lady Jane. Perhaps the council might benefit from your insights regarding potential broader implementation."
Jane straightened slightly in her seat, her scholarly passion evident beneath her composed exterior. "I would be honored to draft proposals for council consideration, Your Majesty. Duke Whitehaven's methods have proven extraordinarily effective, particularly regarding mathematical instruction and experimental sciences."
"Many lack the educational advantages we enjoyed through our positions," Elizabeth noted, referring to the extensive tutoring both she and Jane had received as royal-adjacent children. "A nation benefits when knowledge extends beyond privileged circles."
"The council might consider legislation establishing educational standards across the realm," Cecil suggested. "Perhaps beginning with requirements for basic literacy among guild apprentices."
Elizabeth's eyes lit with interest. "An excellent suggestion, Lord Cecil. Lady Jane, would you collaborate with Lord Cecil to draft preliminary recommendations for council review?"
"With pleasure, Your Majesty," Jane replied, clearly pleased by this meaningful assignment.
Throughout this exchange, Bobby maintained his characteristic silence, though a slight smile played at the corners of his mouth as he watched Elizabeth and Jane collaborate efficiently. These two brilliant women, who in another timeline might have been mortal enemies, now worked together toward England's advancement—largely due to his subtle interventions in history's fabric.
As the council session concluded, Elizabeth rose with regal grace. "We have addressed all matters requiring immediate attention. The council shall reconvene three days hence to review progress on these initiatives."
The councilmen rose, bowing as Elizabeth departed with her ladies-in-waiting trailing behind her. As formal protocol dictated, they remained standing until she had completely exited the chamber.
Once released from this formality, the council members disbursed into small conversational groups, discussing various aspects of the session while gathering their papers. Several approached Bobby to offer congratulations on his elevation to duke, though he noted the calculation behind many of these pleasantries—nobles assessing how this shift might affect their own positions and opportunities.
Bobby gathered his own documents, preparing to depart for Whitehaven. He had accomplished his immediate objectives regarding the transition and now preferred returning to his estate rather than remaining amid court politics.
"Duke Whitehaven," came Jane Grey's voice from behind him as he reached the corridor outside the council chamber. "May I offer my sincere congratulations on your well-deserved elevation."
Bobby turned at the sound of Jane Grey's voice, finding her standing a few paces behind him in the corridor outside the council chamber. The soft afternoon light streaming through nearby windows caught in her dark copper hair, creating russet highlights that complemented her formal burgundy gown trimmed with modest gold embroidery.
"Lady Jane," he acknowledged with a formal bow appropriate for their new relative positions—he a newly minted duke, she a council member of royal lineage. "Your congratulations are most appreciated."
Jane glanced around the bustling corridor where other council members continued their post-session discussions. "Perhaps somewhere less public might allow for proper conversation, Your Grace?" she suggested, her voice carefully modulated to project nothing beyond appropriate professional courtesy.
Bobby nodded, gesturing toward a small antechamber used for private consultations. "The eastern alcove should provide suitable privacy for council matters."
They moved together through the corridor, maintaining precisely the proper distance dictated by court etiquette. Anyone observing would note only a respectable councilwoman consulting with a senior peer following official proceedings. Yet beneath this perfect choreography of propriety lay currents neither party acknowledged openly—the electric awareness that had sparked between them since Jane's unexpected visit to Whitehaven weeks earlier.
The antechamber offered modest privacy with its heavy oak door and small oriel window overlooking the palace gardens. A writing desk occupied one corner, while two upholstered chairs positioned near the hearth provided seating without encouraging excessive comfort or prolonged conversation. Bobby closed the door behind them, though he left it unlatched to maintain appropriate appearances.
"Duke of Whitehaven," Jane said once they were alone, a hint of playfulness briefly piercing her formal demeanor. "Her Majesty shows extraordinary favor."
"The Queen proves remarkably generous," Bobby agreed, studying Jane's expression. "Though such elevation brings additional scrutiny I might have preferred to avoid."
Jane moved to the window, ostensibly admiring the view while creating appropriate distance between them. At seventeen, she possessed remarkable poise—her childhood training in royal decorum now tempered by genuine maturity born from extraordinary circumstances. The slender girl who had briefly worn England's crown had developed into a young woman of considerable substance, her intellectual gifts complemented by growing emotional complexity.
"The transition proceeds smoothly," Jane observed, her fingers tracing an idle pattern on the stone window ledge. "Her Majesty demonstrates remarkable command considering the circumstances." She hesitated before adding softly, "Elizabeth proves wiser than I was during my... elevation."
Bobby leaned against the writing desk, maintaining respectful distance despite the privacy of their location. "Different circumstances entirely. You were fourteen, thrust onto the throne without preparation through Northumberland's machinations. Elizabeth has prepared for this role since childhood."
Jane turned from the window, her expression suddenly vulnerable. "She's trying to do what I attempted, isn't she? When I offered you barony during my reign?" A blush colored her cheeks as memories surfaced. "She elevates you toward potential consort position. Though she possesses considerably more subtlety than I managed."
Bobby's lips quirked into a brief smile. "The Tudor women share certain... strategic inclinations."
"I was mortifyingly transparent," Jane acknowledged, the blush deepening. "A naive child wanting to keep what she desired close at hand."
"You've matured considerably since then," Bobby observed.
Jane nodded, her eyes meeting his directly despite her evident embarrassment. "I understand now what I couldn't then. The complexities beyond simple desire." Her fingers twisted together briefly before she forced them still. "Though understanding doesn't necessarily diminish the feeling."
Bobby studied Jane's face for a moment, taking in the earnestness in her expression. Her words hung in the air between them, achingly sincere despite their understated delivery. She had matured considerably since her brief reign, yet maintained that remarkable vulnerability that had first drawn him to her—an openness utterly unlike the calculated performances of most courtiers.
"The feeling is entirely natural," he said finally, moving closer to the window where she stood. "As is mine toward you."
Jane's eyes widened slightly at this admission. Though they had shared profound connection during her visit to Whitehaven weeks earlier, Bobby rarely articulated his feelings so directly.
"There's something I must tell you," he continued, his voice dropping to ensure complete privacy despite the closed door. The words seemed to require physical effort, as though each syllable extracted a cost. "I will be leaving England soon. Likely after Elizabeth's coronation."
Jane's brow furrowed in momentary confusion. "Leaving? For diplomatic purposes, you mean? The Queen seems to rely heavily on your counsel, especially during these early days."
Bobby shook his head, his expression softening as he looked at her. "Not temporarily. I mean leaving... permanently."
"Oh." Jane processed this information, her quick mind exploring implications. "When will you return?"
The innocent question struck Bobby with unexpected force. He looked away, unable to maintain eye contact while delivering this particular truth. "I don't know. Perhaps never."
Jane's posture stiffened as the full meaning registered. "Never? But that's..." She trailed off, struggling to comprehend. "Where are you going that would prevent any possibility of return?"
"Somewhere beyond recall," Bobby replied carefully, unwilling to burden her with explanations about quantum displacement or temporal entanglement.
Jane stepped closer, her eyes searching his face. "Then I'll come with you."
The simple declaration, delivered with absolute certainty, caught Bobby off-guard. A sad smile touched his lips. "You have family here, Jane. Your father, your mother, your sisters."
"Yes," she acknowledged without hesitation. "And I would miss them, certainly." Her hand reached out, touching his sleeve with tentative boldness. "But I would miss you more. I meant what I said before—if you extended your hand, I would take it. Wherever that journey might lead."
Bobby had no response to that. The extraordinary fact that this brilliant young woman would follow him to the ends of the earth—across realities if such were possible—rendered him momentarily speechless. In all his billions of years, few had offered such unconditional commitment.
Without waiting for his reply, Jane stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her head against his chest. The gesture, so simple yet profound, broke through defenses built across eons of existence.
"If you leave me behind," she murmured against his doublet, "I'll be very angry with you." The childlike phrasing contrasted with the gravity of sentiment behind it, creating a moment of surprising vulnerability between them.
Bobby's arms encircled her almost automatically, his body responding to her nearness despite his logical mind cataloging all the reasons this particular attachment represented poor strategic planning given his imminent displacement.
"I promise," he heard himself say against every rational calculation, "I will never leave you."
He recognized the impossibility even as he spoke, knowing the quantum displacement energy building within him would inevitably tear him from this reality regardless of any promises made. Yet something in Jane's unconditional acceptance compelled this reassurance despite its fundamental dishonesty.
Jane sighed contentedly against him, relaxing into his embrace. Her trust in him felt simultaneously precious and painful, knowing the inevitable betrayal his departure would create.
"I've thought of you constantly," she whispered, "since that day at Whitehaven."
The reference to their intimate encounter weeks earlier brought vivid memories surging back. Jane had rushed to Whitehaven upon hearing her father planned to visit, fearing confrontation between the two men. Her impulsive journey had led to unexpected intimacy—Bobby introducing her to physical pleasure through skilled touches and intimate exploration while carefully preserving her technical virginity.
That evening had marked her introduction to womanhood in many ways, though they had progressed no further than his fingers exploring her most intimate places and his mouth bringing her to shattering climax against her inexperienced expectations. She had passed out from combined emotional exhaustion and physical release, waking the following morning to find Margaret had arrived to escort her back to London, citing her unexplained absence from court duties.
Though Jane had visited Whitehaven several times since, they had never progressed beyond that initial encounter despite her increasingly transparent attempts to recreate those circumstances. Bobby had maintained careful distance, caught between genuine affection and recognition of his inevitable departure.
"I'm returning home soon," Jane said, pulling back slightly to meet his eyes. "After the council reconvenes in three days. I thought perhaps you might..." She hesitated, uncharacteristically uncertain. "That is, I had hoped you might accompany me to Bradgate. My parents would be pleased to receive such a distinguished visitor."
The invitation's subtext wasn't lost on Bobby. A formal visit to her family estate represented significant step toward potential betrothal—a public declaration of intention that would formalize their connection in society's eyes.
"I would be delighted to meet your parents officially," Bobby replied, knowing he could at least fulfill this smaller promise even if the larger one proved impossible. "Though I should warn you, your younger sisters will likely take excessive interest in my presence."
Jane's face lit with surprised pleasure at his acceptance before she registered his teasing comment about her sisters. "Stop that," she admonished, lightly tapping his chest. "Of course they'll be interested in their new brother-in-law." She blushed immediately at her own presumption. "Or... that is to say..."
"I understand your meaning perfectly," Bobby assured her, charmed by her momentary flustered state.
Their eyes met in shared understanding, the barriers of formal address and court protocol momentarily dissolved. Jane rose on tiptoe, her intention clear as she leaned toward him. Bobby met her halfway, their lips connecting in a kiss that began with tender hesitation before deepening with unexpected intensity.
His arms tightened around her slender frame, feeling the quickening of her heartbeat against his chest. Jane responded with surprising boldness, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as she pressed closer.
"Ahem."
The pointed throat-clearing from the doorway caused Jane to leap backward as though physically burned. Margaret, her lady-in-waiting, stood at the threshold with pointed disapproval in her expression.
"Lady Jane," Margaret said with exaggerated formality, "I believe you mentioned needing to draft educational reform proposals for tomorrow's review? The Queen has provided access to the royal library specifically for this purpose."
Jane's face flushed crimson, but she recovered her composure admirably. "Yes, of course. Thank you for the reminder, Margaret." She turned to Bobby, her expression shifting to formal courtesy despite the heightened color in her cheeks. "Your Grace, I thank you for your insights regarding the council proposals. Your experience proves invaluable as always."
Bobby bowed formally, playing along with this sudden return to protocol. "The pleasure was entirely mine, Lady Jane. I look forward to our continued collaboration on these important initiatives."
Jane curtsied perfectly before turning to follow Margaret from the chamber, though she cast one final meaningful glance over her shoulder—a look that contained both promise and unspoken longing.
After they departed, Bobby remained in the antechamber for several minutes, contemplating the complex situation developing around him. Everyone at court could clearly see his inclination toward Jane Grey, despite his attempts at discretion. The prospect of her becoming Lady Kestrel—Duchess Whitehaven now, given his elevation—seemed increasingly inevitable in court gossip.
Yet his visions of probability, those glimpses of potential futures resulting from his quantum sensitivity, revealed disturbing possibilities he couldn't fully articulate. Something shadowy lurked in Jane's potential future, something he hoped to mitigate through careful planning and strategic position.
He had accepted her invitation to Bradgate House in Leicestershire—her ancestral home nestled in the expansive Bradgate Park. This visit would formalize their connection in society's eyes, potentially leading to official betrothal if her family approved. Given his newly elevated status as duke, such approval seemed virtually guaranteed despite any lingering concerns regarding his mysterious origins.
"She will suffer greatly," he murmured to the empty chamber, "regardless of my contributions or interventions. I can only hope to ease her pain somewhat."
His thoughts shifted to Elizabeth, who had embraced her destiny with characteristic Tudor determination. Whatever potential future might have existed between them had closed permanently with her ascension—a reality she seemed to accept despite evident lingering pain. Unlike Jane, who could potentially postpone her scholarly destiny to become his wife, Elizabeth had no such flexibility. The crown committed her to England's service regardless of personal desire.
Beyond these immediate concerns, Bobby contemplated yesterday's examination of Elizabeth's prophetic abilities. While remarkably accurate regarding events directly connected to her personal timeline, her visions couldn't breach the barriers between realities. She couldn't provide insight into what had happened to Art, to Galea, to Eden—those he had loved and lost across infinite realities.
The power to safely traverse the multiverse continued to elude him, as did complete understanding of the quantum temporal energy that both sustained and cursed him. After billions of years, certain fundamental mysteries remained beyond even his comprehension.
Bobby shook himself from these circular ruminations, recognizing he needed distraction from these unsolvable problems. Unfortunately, he wasn't at Whitehaven where diverse activities and projects might occupy his restless mind.
Since he found himself in London already, he decided to visit the shipyards Elizabeth had mentioned during council. His shipbuilding innovations—designs that incorporated principles from civilizations thousands of years beyond Tudor technology—had produced vessels with unprecedented speed and maneuverability. Perhaps reviewing their progress would provide temporary respite from weightier concerns.
With this pragmatic goal, Bobby departed the palace for London's bustling docks, leaving behind the emotional complexities of Tudor royal politics for the straightforward challenges of sixteenth-century engineering.