The Untamed Bride

Two

December 12

The Swan Inn, Winchester

Del was woken from a slumber every bit as restless as he’d predicted by Cobby rattling the bedcur-tains.

“It’s morning, believe it or not. Gray as the grave, and equally cold. Whatever passes for sun these days it’s not up yet, but there’s two gentlemen downstairs waiting to see you-Torrington and Crowhurst.”

Del grunted. He pushed back the covers and rose, stretched, suppressing a shiver at the chill in the air. “Tell them I’ll be down directly.”

“Aye, sir.”

Del washed, quickly shaved, then dressed in the clothes Cobby had left warming by the fire. A quick glance out of the window showed a drear landscape bathed in pearl-gray light. No snow had yet fallen, and it wasn’t raining. Good enough weather for traveling.

Downstairs, he passed Cobby in the foyer.

“In the parlor, they are. Thought I’d get breakfast served, seeing you were on your way.”

With a nod, Del strolled on, opened the parlor door, and walked in to find two large gentlemen enthusiastically addressing plates piled with ham and sausages. Both looked up, smiled, and rose as he approached.

Both must have been in the Guards at some point-there was a certain set to their shoulders, a similarity in their long, tall frames.

The dark-haired, black-eyed one held out his hand with a smiling nod. “Delborough, I take it. I’m Torrington.”

Del shook hands.

“Gervase Tregarth.” The second man, with amber eyes and curly brown hair, likewise offered his hand. “Also known as Crowhurst.”

Del smiled. “Call me Del.” He took a seat facing them, his gaze lowering to the platters. “I haven’t had a real English breakfast in over seven years. Is it any good?”

“Excellent.” Torrington picked up his fork. “Very good ham. I’m Tony, by the way-Tony Blake.”

“Blake.” Del helped himself to the ham and three sausages. “There was a Blake behind enemy lines after Corunna.”

“That was me. Old days long gone. Not much call for those sort of larks these days, not for any of us.”

“Which,” Gervase said, reaching for the coffeepot, “is why you’ll find us all very grateful for this chance to get back into some action, no matter how briefly. Civilian life has its challenges, but they aren’t quite the same.”

Just those few exchanges put Del entirely at ease; men like these he understood, because they thought like him.

“We heard,” Tony said around a mouthful of ham, “that you had a spot of bother at the Dolphin.”

“Indeed-it seems the Black Cobra is aware I’m here, and ready, even eager, to engage.”

“Excellent.” Gervase grinned. “Reassuring to know the action’s already underway.”

“So,” Del said, “what word do you have from Wolverstone?”

“Who,” Tony informed him, “is likewise grateful, but, as usual, is keeping his cards exceedingly close to his chest. We’re to head into London, and spend a few days making noise and seeing what cult forces we can draw out. Royce has left the timing to us, but once we feel we’ve done all we can in the capital, we’re to head to Cambridgeshire, to a house called Somersham Place.”

“I know it,” Del said. “Devil Cynster’s home.”

“Where,” Gervase said, “Cynster will be waiting with a crew of other Cynsters. The idea is to lure the Black Cobra to strike at you while there-no reason the cult would know how many ex-Guardsmen are in the house.”

Del chewed, nodded. “So it’ll be an ambush of sorts.”

“Exactly.” Tony refilled his coffee cup, and sat back.

Del arched a brow at them both. “Do you know if any of the others have reached England?”

Tony shook his head.

“I sent word last night to Royce that you’d landed,” Gervase said, “and that we’ll proceed as planned. As far as we’ve heard, you’re the first home.”

Del hesitated, then said, “About proceeding as planned, we have a slight complication-an unexpected addition to our group.” He told them of Miss Deliah Duncannon, and briefly explained why he hadn’t been able to leave her behind.

Tony winced. “Last thing we need, to have to act as nursemaid to a sweet young thing all the way through London and into Cambridgeshire.”

“At least we’ll be able to hand her over to the Cynster ladies once there,” Gervase said.

Del tried to imagine Deliah Duncannon being “handed over.” Or nursemaided. Couldn’t.

He was searching for words with which to correct their misapprehension that Deliah was “a sweet young thing” when Tony continued, “Still, I suppose it’ll just be a matter of leaving her with her maid and your people, well out of the action.” Setting down his empty cup, Tony reached for the coffeepot. “As we should get on the road in the next hour or so, I daresay the first step is to send a message up to this Miss Duncannon’s maid to get her mistress awake.”

“Miss Duncannon is already awake.”

The frosty words brought them to their feet as the door-which Del now realized hadn’t shut properly behind him-swung fully open to admit Deliah, ready for the day in a gray carriage dress, and transparently unimpressed.

Just how long she’d been standing outside the door was impossible to guess.

Del quickly made the introductions, which she acknowledged with a haughty air. Both Tony and Gervase bowed over her hand, endeavoring to appear cheery and charming. Del held a chair for her, while the others recommended the ham and sausages, which she waved away as a maid bustled in with fresh toast and a teapot.

“Thank you.” Deliah smiled at the maid, claimed a slice of toast, then fixed her eyes on Del’s guilty friends. “So how far do you plan to travel today?”

She’d addressed the question to Tony. He looked to Del, but she refused to follow his gaze and continued to look at him inquiringly…as she’d hoped, he felt compelled to answer.

“We should reach London late this afternoon.”

She nodded. “And then into Cambridgeshire.” When they exchanged quick glances, she added, “In time. A few days, maybe more?”

They didn’t correct her, so she nodded again, supposition confirmed. She nibbled her toast, then poured her tea and took a sip, all the while noting the telltale signs of their uncertainty over what to say to her, letting it grow. She set down her cup. “About this mission-what are the relevant details?”

All three shifted. The other two looked at Del, and didn’t look back at her. Eventually, Del said, “Our…commander, for want of a better term, isn’t one to encourage the unnecessary sharing of information.”

She raised her brows. “Indeed? And does this commander know of my existence-that I’ve unwittingly been drawn into his scheme?”

“No.”

“Then he can’t have made any decision against informing me of its details.”

Del met her limpid green gaze, held it. The others were leaving the question of her continued ignorance up to him. If she’d been a man, he would have told her and enlisted her aid. But she wasn’t a man-very definitely wasn’t-and every instinct he possessed came down firmly on the side of leaving her ignorance uninformed, unrelieved. “Be that as it may, there’s no reason for you to…”

Her tight smile was a warning. “Bother my pretty little head about it?”

Brazen, he nodded. “Something like that.” He wasn’t going to be intimidated into surrendering his position.

She held his gaze-again he had the impression they were standing toe-to-toe, certainly will-to-will, and once again found it inexplicably arousing-then she transferred her gaze to Tony. “As it appears we’ll be spending a number of days in London, where are you intending to stay?”

The sudden shift in attack caught Tony unprepared. “Ah…” He glanced at Gervase, then briefly at Del before saying, “We had thought to put up at our private club, but now…”

“I take it it’s a gentlemen’s club?” she asked.

“Of a sort, but our wives also stay there when visiting town.”

Her brows rose. “Indeed?” She appeared to consider, then shook her head. “I don’t think any private establishment will do.”

Del fully expected her to circle back to what she really wanted to know about-his mission. He cut in. “We can discuss the possibilities in the carriage.” He glanced pointedly at the clock on the mantelpiece. “We should get underway as soon as possible.”

She looked at him, then smiled. “Of course.” She set down her empty cup, laid aside her napkin. With regal grace, she rose, bringing them to their feet. She inclined her head as she turned to the door. “Gentlemen. I’ll be ready to leave in an hour.”

They stood and watched her glide to the door; she opened it, then shut it quietly behind her.

“I assume,” Gervase said, “that we’re supposed to understand that she’s not a cypher to be ignored.”

Del snorted. “More that she’s not a cypher-and will not be ignored.”

“Well? Are you going to tell me or not?”

Head back against the squabs, eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest, Del supposed he should have expected the question. “Not.”

He didn’t bother opening his eyes. They’d left Winchester half an hour before, and were now bowling along the highway toward London. There was, however, a pertinent difference between their present journey and that of the evening before-today he and she were alone in the carriage. Her staff and his were following in the two carriages immediately behind, the three conveyances traveling in convoy. Gervase and Tony, the lucky sods, were on horseback, riding parallel to the road, close enough to keep watch, yet not so close that they would scare away any of the Black Cobra’s men who might be tempted to stage an attack.

Del didn’t think an attack at all likely. Even in this season, this highway was too busy, with mail coaches and all manner of private vehicles constantly bowling along in both directions. The Black Cobra cultists preferred less populated surrounds for their villainy.

“Where are the other two?”

He slitted open his eyes and saw her peering out of the carriage window.

“They said they’d ride with us, but I can’t see them.”

He closed his eyes again. “Don’t worry. They’re there.”

He felt her sharp glance.

“I’m not worried. I’m curious.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Her gaze heated to a glare; even with his eyes closed he felt it.

“Let’s see if I have this right.” Her tone was the epitome of reason and sense. “You arrive in Southampton and take rooms at an inn, then discover you’ve been elected to be my escort and promptly try to divest yourself of the responsibility. Then someone tries to shoot you, and you immediately up stakes and quit said inn-even though your people have only just settled in and it’s already evening-to rattle all of what?-ten miles?-further along the road. And by the next morning, you’ve acquired two…should I call them guards?”

His lips quirked before he stilled them.

She saw, humphed. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

“No.”

“Why? I cannot see how it would hurt for me to know what it is you’re carrying-information or something more tangible-and what you want to do with it, who wants to stop you, and why.”

At that he opened his eyes, turned his head and looked at her. Met her irritated green gaze. She’d guessed so much…he set his jaw. “It’s better if you don’t know.”

Her eyes slitted, her lips thinned. “Better for whom?”

He wasn’t, when it came to it, all that sure. Facing forward, resettling his head, he murmured, “I’ll think about it.”

And closed his eyes again.

He felt the heat of her temper focus on him, but then she shifted on the seat, and blessed silence descended.

It lasted. And lasted.

Eventually he opened his eyes enough to send a careful look her way.

She was sitting in the corner of the carriage, leaning against the side, watching the fields flash past. There was a faint frown on her face, and her lips were…just slightly pouting.

Minutes ticked by, then he forced his gaze forward and closed his eyes again.

They stopped for lunch at a small country inn in the village of Windlesham. Deliah had been unimpressed when he’d refused to halt at any of the major posting inns at Cam-berley but instead had directed the coachman to the much smaller-and therefore much safer-country village.

Tony and Gervase would hang back, keeping watch to see if they could spot anyone following. But as the Black Cobra had to suspect Del would make for London, he, Tony and Gervase were all of the opinion that it was more likely there would be watchers planted at vantage points along the road to report his passage to their master.

If Tony or Gervase could spot such a watcher, they might be able to follow the man back to the Black Cobra’s lair. As the game stood, any information on the Black Cobra’s forces would be welcome, while information on the Black Cobra himself would be gold.

Del climbed down from the carriage before the Windlesham Arms, and after a swift look around, handed Deliah down. She continued to grumble, which in her case was more like acerbic verbal sniping, which Del found amusing, although he was careful not to let his appreciation show.

But after the innkeeper bowed them into a pretty parlor with lace curtains and comfortable chairs, and then proceeded to serve an excellent meal, her griping ceased. By the time he escorted her back into the main tap and paused by the bar to settle the account, she was entirely appeased, and in a relatively mellow mood-not that she would admit it.

Lips curving, Del chatted to the barman while he waited for the innkeeper to tot up the damage.

The tap was half full. Rather than stand beside Del and be covertly studied by the occupants, Deliah wandered to an archway where a pair of glassed doors gave onto a small courtyard. Gently rolling lawns lay beyond; in summer, the area would, she suspected, be dotted with the trestles and benches she could see stacked to one side under a row of leafless trees.

Nearer at hand, a narrow bed ran along the wall of the inn, full of hellebores in bloom. It had been so long since she’d seen the so-called Christmas roses on impulse she opened the door and went out to admire them.

The plants were old, large, and carried many spikes of large, nodding white blooms. Some were even spotty. She bent down the better to see.

And heard a soft rush of footsteps coming up the lawn.

Straightening, she started to turn-just as a large man seized her from behind.

She screamed, struggled.

A second man tried to help the first, tried to hold her still as the first attempted to clap a hand over her mouth.

She ducked her head, jabbed an elbow back hard-into a flabby stomach. The first man gasped, then wheezed.

The second man swore and tried to haul her away from the inn as the first man’s grip faltered.

She dug in her heels, dragged in a breath, and screamed again. Wrenching one arm free, she struck wildly at the second man.

Del erupted from the inn. Kumulay and Mustaf were on his heels.

The second man swore, and fled for his life.

The first man wasn’t as fast; he was still clutching her, still wheezing. Del grabbed her free arm with one hand. His other fist flashed past her shoulder.

She heard a sickening crunch, then the large man’s grip on her eased and fell away.

Del pulled her to him, to his other side. Peering back, around him, she saw the man who’d seized her laid out unconscious on the flagstone path.

Then every man and woman who’d been in the tap came pouring out-to see, exclaim, ask questions, demand answers.

Del suddenly found himself and Deliah surrounded by a well-meaning throng. Many seemed to think Deliah would be in imminent danger of collapse, presumably from overwrought sensibilities, an assumption she seemed to find as mystifying as, and rather more irritating than, he did.

Questions, solicitude and sympathetic outrage came from all sides; it took vital minutes to calm everyone down.

Finally Del looked up and saw Mustaf and Kumulay striding back up the lawn. Mustaf shook his head, gestured with his fingers-the man had had a horse waiting.

They’d intended to grab Deliah and take her somewhere. Del’s mind supplied the where-wherever the Black Cobra or his lieutenant was waiting.

He swallowed a curse, looked for the man he’d laid out-then clamped his lips shut on an even more virulent oath.

The man had vanished.

Teeth gritted behind an entirely false smile, he tightened his hold on Deliah’s arm and started steering her through the crowd, toward the front of the inn.

Having noted the disappearance of the man, and Del’s direction, Mustaf and Kumulay went to summon the others and ready the carriages.

It was another twenty minutes before they were once again underway, and rolling out of the no-longer-so-sleepy village.

Del slumped back against the seat, finally registered the throbbing in his left hand. Lifting it, he saw he’d split the skin over one knuckle. He put the injured joint to his mouth.

Deliah noticed, frowned, then she looked ahead. Lifted her chin. After a moment, she said, “I believe your commander, whoever he is, would agree, now, that I have a right to know.”

Del grimaced. He glanced at her profile; her lips weren’t pouting-they were set in a grim line. “I don’t suppose you’d accept that those men were merely footpads-itinerants looking for an easy mark?”

“No.”

He sighed.

“If I’d known I stood in any danger of attack, I wouldn’t have gone out of that door.” She turned her head, met his eyes. “You can’t not tell me-it’s too dangerous for me not to know.”

He held her gaze for a moment, then looked ahead, filled his lungs. And told her.

Initially he gave her a carefully edited description of the Black Cobra and his mission. She seemed to sense his prevarications and refused to let them lie, verbally pulling and prodding until she’d extracted an account a great deal closer to the full picture from him.

He inwardly winced as he heard himself tell her about the manner of James MacFarlane’s death, and of the evidence he’d given his life to get to them.

“Poor boy-how utterly dreadful. Yet at least he died a true hero-I imagine that would have been important to him. And this is the evidence you and your friends are endeavoring to ensure gets into Wolverstone’s hands?”

“Yes.”

“And part of the plan is to make the Black Cobra attack, so he can be caught and thus implicated entirely independently of the evidence itself?”

“Yes.”

She was silent for a moment, then said, “That’s a very good plan.”

He’d expected her to be appalled, and then horrified, frightened, even terrified by the very real threat of very real and nasty danger-something she certainly wouldn’t have missed. Yet while she’d been as appalled as he’d imagined, horror, fright and terror didn’t seem to be in her repertoire; if he’d had any real doubts that she was made of sterner stuff, her immediate focus on the salient points of his mission had slain them.

After another, longer silence, she looked at him, met his eyes. “I will, of course, help in whatever way I can-you have only to ask. As the Black Cobra clearly views me as part of your entourage, there’s no sense in attempting to keep me distanced from your mission.”

He managed to hide his reaction. He could think of any number of reasons to keep her separate from his mission, all of which made excellent sense to him, but he hadn’t attained the rank of colonel without having some idea of how to manage others-although he’d never tried his hand at managing a termagant before. “Thank you.” With an inclination of his head, he accepted her pledge of help; if he’d tried to refuse it, to quash the enthusiam burning in her green eyes, her resolve to assist would only have hardened. Instead, he could use her commitment as a subtle lever to keep her under control-to channel her contribution into safe arenas.

Speaking of which…“We still haven’t decided where to stay in London.” Brows rising, he relaxed against the seat. “Do you know of any place that might suit?”

December 12

Grillon’s Hotel, Albemarle Street, London

“See?” Deliah stood just inside the foyer of fashionable Grillon’s Hotel, and watched Del survey the critical amenities-the single handsome staircase leading to the upper floors, the dining room to one side, the parlor to the other, and directly opposite the main entrance, the only entrance from the street, the wide counter behind which two young men stood, ready to deal with any request from guests, all under the eagle eye of an older gentleman in a uniform sporting gilt-embroidered epaulettes. In addition, there were not one but two uniformed doormen manning the portal. “It’s the perfect place for us to stay,” she murmured. “Not only is it in the heart of London, but Grillon’s reputation is based on security and propriety-they would never permit anything so gauche as an attack of any sort to occur on the premises.”

Del had come to the same conclusion-the ex-solider behind the counter was watching him steadily, and the doorman who had shown them in had yet to return outside. He nodded. “All in all, an excellent choice.”

He walked forward. Deliah glided beside him, her long legs allowing her to keep pace easily. The head clerk behind the counter straightened, all but coming to attention; after decades in the army, Del’s bearing inevitably gave him away.

“Can we help you, s-”

“I’m Miss Duncannon.” Deliah laid her gloves on the counter, waited until the clerk looked her way. “I require a room for myself, and accommodation for my staff. Colonel Delborough”-with one hand she waved at him-“will also require a room-”

“And also has various stipulations to make.” Del caught her eye when she glanced at him, captured her gaze and pointedly held it. “As I am escorting you north at your parents’ request, it might perhaps be appropriate for you to consider me in loco parentis.”

She blinked at him.

His smile took on an edge. “Perhaps you should allow me to organize our rooms.”

She frowned.

Before she could argue, he looked at the clerk. “Miss Duncannon will require a suite overlooking the street, preferably with no balcony.”

The head clerk consulted his list. “We have a suite that might suit, Colonel-it’s on the first floor, but is some way from the stairs.”

“That will do admirably. I’ll want a bedchamber myself, on the same floor, between the suite and the stairs.”

“Indeed, sir.” The head clerk conferred with one of his underlings, then nodded. “We have a room four doors closer to the stairs, if that would suit?”

“Perfectly. We also require two more bedchambers for two gentlemen who will arrive in the next hour or so. Viscount Torrington and the Earl of Crowhurst. They would prefer to have rooms as close as possible to the stairs.”

Gervase and Tony were watching the carriages from further along the street; once they saw they were indeed staying at Grillon’s, they would head to the Bastion Club to check for any messages, then return to join them.

After more conferring, the head clerk said, “There are two single bedchambers that face the head of the stairs, but they overlook the lane. They’re rarely requested…” The clerk looked his question.

Del smiled. “They will suit us perfectly. In addition, as I’m returning from service in India, and Miss Duncannon is returning from an extended sojourn in Jamaica, we’re both traveling with household staff.”

“That will pose no difficulty, sir. Not at this time of year. If I might suggest, I can consult with your staff directly as to what arrangements might be best?”

Del nodded. “My batman is Cobby, and…” He looked at Deliah.

With a slight frown, she supplied, “My majordomo is Janay.”

“Excellent-I’ll speak with Mr. Cobby and Mr. Janay. I take it your carriages are outside?” When Del assented, the clerk dispatched his underlings to direct the carriages into the mews, then came around the counter. “If you’ll come this way, Colonel, Miss Duncannon, I’ll show you to your rooms. Your bags will be brought up momentarily.”

The next hours went in the inevitable bustle of settling into their rooms. The suite-something Deliah wouldn’t have thought of to request-was commodious. Both the large sitting room and her adjoining bedchamber had wide windows overlooking the street. Contrary to her expectations, Del had managed the arrangements perfectly well. While she dressed for dinner, she thought again of the stipulations he’d made, a clear indication of how seriously he took the threat of the Black Cobra.

She sat at the dressing table and let Bess have at her hair.

Deftly rewinding the long tresses into a neat knot, then anchoring it atop Deliah’s head with a tortoiseshell comb, Bess nodded at her in the mirror. “Just as well I didn’t put all your evening gowns in the big trunks.”

Deliah grimaced; most of her clothes, along with all her other baggage, were traveling north by carter. “How many do we have?”

“This, and the emerald silk.” Bess set in the final pin. “There.” She stood back. “Perhaps if there’s time while we’re in town, you might get another. If we’re going to some duke’s house, even for a few days, you’ll need it.”

“We’ll see.” Deliah rose; she paused by the cheval glass and checked the fall of her plum silk gown, with its raised waist and scalloped neckline. Satisfied, she headed for the door to the sitting room.

They’d arranged to have dinner in the suite. Approving the menu was something Del had left to her. Janay and Cobby would serve the meal, leaving them free to discuss their plans.

Walking into the sitting room, she found Del standing by the window looking out over Albemarle Street. He turned as she entered; for an instant he seemed surprised to see her, then a knock on the door had them both turning that way.

“Come,” she called.

The door opened to admit Tony and Gervase. Both nodded rather vaguely, absorbed with scanning the room, taking note of the window and the door to her bedchamber, before surveying the table laid ready for dinner, the comfortable armchairs set before the hearth, and the excellent fire.

Brows rising, Tony strolled forward. “Not a place I’d have picked, but it seems very well suited to our needs. Our rooms are right by the stairs, and we saw where yours is-couldn’t have been better.”

Del glanced at Deliah. “The accolades are due to Miss Duncannon-Grillon’s was her suggestion.”

Both Tony and Gervase smiled and half bowed to her.

The door opened again. Seeing Janay bearing a tureen, Deliah waved to the table. “Pray be seated, gentlemen. Dinner is here.”

Del held a chair for her. She sat, with Gervase on her right, and Tony opposite.

Janay served the soup, while Cobby offered bread. When they setttled to sup, the two men left to fetch the next course.

“I have to say,” Gervase murmured, “that I never thought I’d ever stay here, bastion of the prim and proper that it is.” He glanced at Deliah. “We formed the Bastion Club late in ’15, more or less immediately we returned from the Continent, and for those of us without houses in town-like Tony here, and me-it’s become our London base over the last years.”

“We originally set it up as a gentlemen’s club,” Tony explained, “but we all married in ’16, over a period of about eight months, and our wives elected to use the club, too.”

“Gasthorpe, our majordomo, and his staff adjusted very readily.” Gervase grinned. “They’ve even coped with children on occasion.”

They were just making conversation, but Deliah wanted to know more. “How many club members are there?”

They explained, and when she probed further, elaborated. The more she heard of their families, their pasts, their presents, the more she understood of their connection to the people on their country estates-an evolution from the protectiveness that must have driven them into the services years before-the more she relaxed with them. The more she trusted them.

The fruit platter had been decimated. As Cobby and Janay cleared the table, she glanced curiously at Del. She’d trusted him from the moment they’d met.

She knew better than to trust her instincts where men were concerned-especially handsome men who made her pulse race-yet there was no denying there was something very steadying, very steadfast, about Colonel Derek Delborough.

In lieu of port, Del told Cobby to fetch a bottle of arrack from his bags, Gervase and Tony having voiced a wish to sample the Indian version of brandy.

Tony glanced at Gervase, then looked at Del. “Perhaps we should repair to your room.” He turned his charming smile on Deliah. “We should discuss strategy, which will no doubt bore Miss Duncannon to tears.”

Deliah smiled, equally charming. “On the contrary, Miss Duncannon is all ears.” Her smile took on an edge. “I know all about the Black Cobra-or at least all I need to. You and Gervase may speak freely.”

Tony and Gervase exchanged a swift, surprised, not entirely approving look, then glanced at Del.

“Two men tried to abduct Miss Duncannon during our halt at Windlesham.”

Tony and Gervase straightened. “That,” Gervase said, glancing at Deliah, “is not good news.”

“You didn’t manage to capture them?” Tony asked.

Briefly, Del described what had happened. “After that, as Miss Duncannon-”

“Please call me Deliah-it’s simpler, and we’re clearly all in this together.”

Del inclined his head. “As Deliah subsequently observed, given that the Cobra has demonstrated he definitely has her in his sights, it was too dangerous for her not to know what, precisely, was going on.” He met her gaze. “Incidentally, did you get any hint that there were others nearby-the man who shot at me, for instance?”

“No-it was just the two you saw. I don’t think there were any others close.”

“Can you describe both men? The rest of us barely saw the one who fled.”

She complied, painting a picture sufficiently detailed to have all three men frowning.

“It sounds very much as if the Black Cobra is hiring locals to assist him-specifically to act against us so that there’s no chance he or his lieutenants will be implicated.” Del’s gaze rested on Deliah. “You described the man who shot at me in Southampton-thinking of that now, I can’t be sure if he was Ferrar’s man Larkins, or a local hired to do the deed. If you saw him again, would you recognize him?”

“Definitely,” Deliah averred. “I looked directly at him, and there were only ten yards or so between us.”

And that, Del thought, very possibly explained the attack on her. Ferrar would also know that kidnapping her was a surefire way of pulling him into pursuit-pulling him away from his defined route, deflecting him from his mission.

“Given the current state of play”-he chose his words carefully-“you shouldn’t venture outside-anywhere in public-without at least one of us in close attendance.”

When he glanced at her, he was surprised by her ready nod. As if sensing his latent suspicion, she arched a brow. “After all you’ve told me, I have no wish to become a…guest of the Black Cobra.”

“No, indeed.” His expression stripped of all levity, Tony looked at Del. “I should mention that while Gasthorpe and his minions are desolate to have missed the pleasure of putting you up, they’re always delighted to play supporting roles in our little adventures. Consequently, they’re presently throwing themselves into watching the hotel and scouting out the surrounding streets for any hint of our pursuers.”

“I take it you saw no potential lookouts during the journey?” Del asked.

Gervase grimaced. “We saw no Indians, or even tanned Englishmen. We did, however, see numerous shifty characters watching the carriages roll by, but there was no way of telling those reporting to the Black Cobra from the others. No one worth following.”

The three men fell silent.

Deliah eyed each face, then prompted, “So what are our plans?” When no one rushed to speak, she suggested, “Perhaps you might reiterate what you wish to achieve over our sojourn in town?”

“We want,” Del said, “to leave the Black Cobra guessing whether or not I’m carrying the original or a copy of the evidence. If he learns I’ve got a copy, he’ll lose interest in me and swing his focus onto the other three. We don’t want to give him that option. The way I interpreted Wolverstone’s plan, part of the intent was to force the Black Cobra to fight on four different fronts, either simultaneously or at the very least in rapid succession.”

Gervase nodded. “That’s correct-weaken him by forcing him to spread his troops thin.”

“So,” Del continued, his gaze on the table, “we keep the scroll-holder safe-that’s taken care of, and given Grillon’s security, it’s as protected as we can make it. We don’t need to do anything more on that front, so that’s our defensive aspect covered. As for the rest, we should do what we can to assess the strength of the Black Cobra’s forces-has he imported many cultists into the country, as we assumed he would, or has he got just a handful, and that’s why he’s hiring locals? Is he using locals because it’s easier, or because he has no choice?”

He glanced at Tony and Gervase. “The Black Cobra’s modus operandi is to smother opposition-he usually relies on numerical advantage and expendable troops to win any encounter. The cult preaches that death in the service of the Black Cobra brings glory. Strategically, he’s accustomed to attacking with an excess of men. It would help-a lot-to know if he has a large number here, held in reserve to date, or if lack of numbers will force him to play the game more craftily.”

Tony nodded. “So we need to draw him, or at least his forces, out. We need to metaphorically wave the standard and dare him to come and take it-we need to taunt and tempt, just as we would on a battlefield.”

“Which,” Gervase said, “fits with Royce’s orders to spend some time making noise in town, attracting, then fixing, the enemy’s attention, drawing as much down on our heads as we can handle before we go haring north to Somersham Place, with any luck drawing a goodly number of cultists with us, into an ambush there.” He shrugged. “Standard procedure, all in all.”

They spent some time discussing options as to what might serve as “waving the standard.”

“I should at some point call at East India House,” Del said, “if nothing else to give Ferrar a sleepless night-he’ll at least feel forced to check that I haven’t shown anyone there the letter.”

“You could add in visits to Whitehall and to Guards’ Headquarters.” Tony reached for the now half empty bottle of arrack. “The latter is somewhere he might find difficult to penetrate.”

Deliah shifted in her chair. She could envision what they were suggesting and could see a potential problem, but she didn’t want to point it out. Better they saw it themselves.

Gervase frowned. “We can do all that, but I fear it’s all going to look too guarded. Too obvious. He’ll watch, but he won’t come into the open.”

Precisely. Deliah cleared her throat. “If I might suggest…the one element in your plan that the Black Cobra couldn’t have anticipated is me.” She glanced at Del. “Not even you knew I would be traveling with you. But he now knows I’m with you, and that you are, for some reason unknown to him, acting as my escort. If we-you and I-start going about town on the sorts of excursions a provincial lady-a flighty, demanding provincial lady-would be expected to go on, he’ll assume those excursions are driven by me, not you, that they’re about what I want to do, not about you trying to draw him out.

“And just think.” Seeing the sudden interest in their eyes, she let her own mounting enthusiasm show. “We can go for walks in the parks, shopping in Bond Street and Bruton Street, visiting the museum-and at this time of year fashionable London is almost deserted. He’s unlikely to mount an attack in Whitehall, or outside the Guards, but outside a dressmaker’s shop in Bruton Street? In the park as the shadows are lengthening? There’s no reason for him to think such excursions are traps, not if you’re escorting me.”

Gervase slowly nodded. “That could work.”

Del thought it might, too, but felt distinctly reluctant. It hadn’t escaped him that, no matter her innocent I’m-merely-being-helpful attitude, Deliah had inserted herself into the heart of the action.

More, she’d made the worthiness of the excursions dependent on her.

Tony, too, waxed enthusiastic. “You could break up the fashionable excursions with those places Del mentioned-all places the Black Cobra would expect him to go.” He paused, then nodded. “That should work-we have to make the enemy believe he has a chance of success if we want him to risk his men.”

Del listened while the others discussed fashionable excursions with the potential to tempt an attack. He had to agree with their strategic assessment; Deliah’s presence would lure the cultists into discounting any chance of a trap. And although he inwardly disapproved of her exposure to potential harm, he would be beside her, and Tony and Gervase would be close, ready to come to their aid.

Still…

It was late, and they’d been traveling. With a decent list of excursions to mull over, they agreed to make their final arrangements in the morning, and rose to go to their rooms.

Tony and Gervase made their goodnights and strolled out. Del followed them to the suite’s door, Deliah beside him.

He stepped into the corridor, then paused and glanced back at her.

She raised her brows. “What?”

He hesitated, then said, “Just because I’ve agreed to your involvement doesn’t mean I’m in any way thrilled at the notion of you being exposed to danger, much less to the machinations of the Black Cobra.”

She returned his regard levelly. “You’ll be every bit as exposed to the same danger. And when all is said and done, you’re not that much harder to kill than I am.”

He frowned. Before he could correct her, she started to shut the door.

“Good night, Del.”

Her soft words reached him, then he was left staring at the closed door.

December 12

Shrewton House, London

The drawing room of Shrewton House in Grosvenor Square was exactly as Alex had imagined it. Of course, the family was presently not in residence, and all the furniture was shrouded in holland covers, yet even in the shadowed gloom with the chandeliers unlit, the proportions of the room, the elegant appointments, were evident.

Alex sank onto the chaise Roderick had uncovered, and watched him pacing before his ancestral hearth. More correctly, their ancestral hearth-they could all lay claim to it. Their servants had set a fire blazing, driving the frigid chill from the air.

Roderick grimaced. “Grillon’s might be unsuitable for a direct attack, but at least we can keep watch on them there easily enough.”

“And”-Daniel subsided, languidly elegant, into a still shrouded armchair-“I seriously doubt Delborough is naïve enough to imagine he can advance his cause by showing the letter around East India House, or even Whitehall.” Daniel looked at Roderick. “He knows your connections.”

“Regardless,” Roderick returned, “we’ll watch.”

“Indeed.” Unshakably calm, Alex asked, “Meanwhile, what is Larkins doing about retrieving Delborough’s letter?”

“His man inside Delborough’s party is still there-a lucky break. Larkins is confident his man will find the letter and bring it out.”

“But Larkins isn’t simply relying on this thief of his, is he?” Daniel asked.

“No. If he sees a chance to take a hostage-the lady, for example-he’ll act. And if for any reason he judges the letter has passed beyond our reach, unattainable by any means, he’ll kill Delborough.” Roderick continued to pace. “We’ll watch and attack if an opportunity presents-aside from all else, it’s what Delborough will expect, and the attacks will keep him focused outward, not on his own household.”

“M’wallah tells me that Larkins isn’t using our men.” Alex made the statement and waited for an explanation.

Roderick nodded. “I thought it best, at least while we’re shorthanded and the rest of our men are still arriving, that wherever possible Larkins should use local hirelings, rather than risk our own forces.”

Alex smiled. “An excellent call.” It always paid to compliment Roderick when he got things right. “So where are the others-our far-flung cultists?”

“We’ve got groups waiting in every south coast port, and those on the east as far north as Whitby. There are assassins with each group, and of course we have men on the trail of the other three. Given their varied routes and the impossibility of correctly predicting which English port they’ll eventually use, I’ve given orders that, should they make it alive and still carrying their scroll-holder to any of the embarkation ports on the Continent, the first thing the men following them should do is inform us immediately.” Roderick glanced at Daniel, then Alex. “That way, we’ll have warning and time enough to get a suitable welcome in place.”

“A welcome that has yet to be successful in Delborough’s case,” Alex coolly pointed out.

“We didn’t have our usual complement of men available when Delborough arrived, but with a man inside his household, and the good colonel dallying in London with his mystery lady, we’ll succeed.” Roderick paused and once again glanced at Daniel, then Alex. “Regardless of retrieving all four letters, we should ensure that the couriers-all four of them-do not escape unscathed.”

Alex smiled coldly, a chilling sight. “I agree entirely. We wouldn’t want anyone to think we’d lost our fangs.”