The next morning they sighted Cornwall and then it was just another night before they arrived in Portsmouth. John expected to be dismissed, but when the priest had left after evening prayers Buckingham crooked his finger and John locked the door behind everyone else and spent the night with the duke. They were learning each other’s bodies, apprentices in desire. Buckingham’s skin was smooth and soft but the muscles in his body were hard from his horseriding and his running. John was ashamed of the grey in the hairs of his chest and his callused hands, but the weight of his strong body on Buckingham made the younger man groan with delight. They kissed, lips lingering, pressing, exploring, drinking from each other’s mouths. They struggled against each other like wrestlers fighting, like animals mating, testing the hardness of muscle against muscle in a lovemaking which gave no quarter and showed no sentimentality but which had at its core a wild savage tenderness, until Buckingham said breathlessly, ‘I can’t wait! I want it too much!’ and lunged towards John and they tumbled together into the darker world of pain and desire until pain and desire were one and the darkness was complete.

November 1627

They woke at dawn with the sound of the sailors making ready for port. There was little time for words and, in any case, what was between them went deeper than speech. John believed that they were bonded together in a way that nothing could break – the love of a man for his brother-in-arms, the strong powerful love of a vassal for his lord, and now the passionate devotion of lovers who have found all the pleasure of the world in each other’s bodies. Buckingham lay back in bed as John swiftly dressed, and smiled. John felt his desires – now insatiable it seemed – rise again at that seductive mischievous smile.

‘Where will we lie tonight?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know what reception will meet me,’ Buckingham said, his smile fading. ‘We’ll have to find the court. Chances are that Charles will be at Whitehall this season. I may have to work hard to keep my place.’

‘Whatever place you win I am yours,’ John said simply.

Buckingham gleamed at him. ‘I know,’ he said quietly. ‘I shall need you by me.’

‘And after Whitehall?’

‘Home for the New Year,’ Buckingham decided. He shot John a rueful smile. ‘To our loving wives.’

John hesitated. ‘I could send Elizabeth to Kent,’ he offered. Elizabeth and his long years of marriage seemed part of another life; nothing could interfere with this new way of being, with this new love, with this sudden arrival of passion. ‘My wife has family in Kent. She could visit them. I could be alone at New Hall with you.’