The Untamed Bride Plus Black Cobra 02-03 and Special Excerpt (11 page)

“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.”