come this way. You’re expected.”
Both he and Emily eagerly followed the man down a narrow corridor. The innkeeper halted, tapped, then opened a wooden door that, from its solidity, dated from Elizabethan times, and bowed them in.
Emily led the way, wondering who was expecting them. The answer had her eyes growing wide.
The room was full of large gentlemen, and it wasn’t a small parlor, but one of the inn’s main reception rooms. A quick head count said ten; she was surrounded by ten men-ex-Guardsmen by the look of them-but it was the man at the center of the group, the one she found herself somehow facing, who captured and held her attention.
He was dark haired, but so were many of the others. He was by no means the tallest of the group, yet he was the most powerful.
Emily knew that without question.
His face was austere, the planes hard edged, but his mobile lips curved as she instinctively curtsied. “Wolverstone, Miss Ensworth-it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He took her hand and bowed over it. “I understand you played a key role in getting the Black Cobra’s letter to Delborough here.”
Emily glanced at the man beside the great Wolverstone, then beamed. “Colonel Delborough-I’m delighted to see you again.”
“And I you, Miss Ensworth.” Delborough bowed. As he straightened, his gaze went past Emily, and his face lit. “Gareth!”
Emily stepped aside, delighted indeed as she watched Gareth shake Delborough’s hand and share a heartfelt embrace.
As he stepped back, Gareth asked, “Logan and Rafe?”
“Logan landed at Plymouth and is heading this way. He should reach us tomorrow. Rafe…” Delborough grimaced. “We haven’t heard anything, but you know Rafe. He’s just as likely to turn up on Wolverstone’s doorstep unheralded, with smiling apologies for having inadvertently missed touching the bases he was supposed to.”
“Just as long as he makes it.” Gareth held out his hand to Wolverstone. “I’m honored to meet you, Your Grace.”
Clasping his hand, Wolverstone smiled. “Just Royce in this company. Aside from all else”-he cocked a dark brow at the man to his right-“I’m not the only ‘Grace’ here.”
“Devil!” Gareth shook hands, clapped backs, then remembered to introduce Emily. “Devil Cynster, Duke of St. Ives.”
Emily found herself taken on a round of introductions, as Gareth eagerly renewed acquaintance with a host of Cynsters and an earl called Gyles, and Delborough introduced them both to two men Gareth didn’t know, who proved to be ex-colleagues of Jack and Tristan, all ex-operatives of Dalziel-Royce by another name.
Her head was whirling by the time the door opened to admit the innkeeper with a small tribe of helpers laden with platters. And on their heels, Jack and Tristan strolled in, to a general and hearty welcome.
The innkeeper and his team withdrew, and their group-now numbering fourteen-settled about the table, Royce at the head, St. Ives at the foot. Royce sat Emily on his right. Somewhat to her relief, Gareth sat beside her. She’d heard enough from Jack, Tristan, and Gareth to expect Wolverstone to impress, but the reality exceeded her imagination by a significant degree.
They all passed the platters. Emily found herself pressed to try this and that, but then all attention focused on their plates. Silence descended for two minutes, then Gareth glanced at Delborough, seated opposite. “We heard that you sacrificed your letter-what happened?”
Delborough nodded, and took up the conversational reins, relating how the confusion arising from combining his party with that of a lady he’d unknowingly been elected to escort north had allowed the Black Cobra to insinuate a thief-a young and very much coerced Indian boy-into their combined households. While he, the lady, and their combined guards had defeated the Cobra’s forces and won through to their destination of St. Ives’s country home, the boy, Sangay, had stolen the scroll holder, but had then been trapped at St. Ives’s house by the recent heavy snowfall.
“We could see from the snow that no one had entered or left the house, so we searched, and eventually found him. Once we convinced him we could keep him and his mother safe, he helped us to set a trap for the Black Cobra.” Delborough snorted. “In, of all places, Ely Cathedral.”
Delborough went on to describe how the trap had been sprung, but the Black Cobra, Ferrar, had presumably struck, killing his own man to escape unseen with the scroll holder.
“However, it contained only a decoy copy.” Wolverstone looked at Gareth. “Which is why we’re here-because he’ll know that by now, and having tried for Delborough’s and succeeded, he’ll try for the holder you’re carrying, too. Nothing is more certain.”
Wolverstone let his gaze travel around the table. “Which is exactly what we want, because we need to reduce the cult’s forces, especially in this area. My scheme is designed to have Ferrar racing back and forth across these counties, losing men at every turn. Delborough accounted for fourteen. I hope we can take out a similar number today, and Monteith and those with him, more again tomorrow.”
Gareth murmured, “So Rafe…?”
But Royce only smiled.
“You don’t need to know what you don’t need to know.” Jack caught Gareth’s eye. “That’s the way it always goes.”
“Indeed.” Royce pushed aside his empty plate. “So let’s see what we can accomplish today.” He looked inquiringly at Tristan and Jack. “What’s our situation?”
“They’re here, and in force.” Jack straightened in his chair. “We’ve been following a group of eight who’ve been tracking the carriage since Tilbury. Today they were joined by a larger force, another ten, just north of Braintree. That lot rode down from the north, by the way. And of special interest to us all, two of the ten aren’t Indian, but English. I don’t know Ferrar, so can’t say for certain, but I assume one is him. The other’s of similar build, darker hair.”
“They’re friends, not mere acquaintances,” Tristan put in. “And the other isn’t any servant, but an equal. You could tell from the way they interacted.”
Royce’s brows had risen. “That’s news. So we have another potential…lieutenant, let us say. And he’s English. If any chance offers, we need to catch him.” He looked at Tristan and Jack. “So by Braintree they were eighteen against a carriage with four men. What happened? Braintree is what? Twelve or more miles from here?”
“About that,” Jack said. “I wasn’t close enough to hear the conversations, but my best guess is that the dark- haired one wanted to attack, but Ferrar refused and had the whole lot of them shadowing the carriage, more or less flanking it all the way to Sudbury.”
“Once the carriage crossed the bridge into Sudbury, they peeled away and skirted the town.” Tristan tipped his head to the north. “We left them waiting on a rise from where they can watch the Bury and the Lavenham roads.”
Royce nodded. “They’ve guessed from Delborough’s destination that the carriage will head north, but they don’t know exactly to where. So they’re in position to pick up the carriage when it leaves here.” He glanced down the table. “Any guesses as to why they put off an attack?”
All eyes turned to Demon Cynster. “My guess is that Ferrar, having some familarity with the area, knows that the stretch from Sudbury to Bury, or Sudbury to Lavenham, is better for mounting an attack.”
“Did someone bring a map?” Royce asked.
Vane Cynster had. He drew it from his pocket and unfolded the large map, which showed most of the Eastern Counties. Various hands helped smooth it out and anchor it in front of Royce and Gareth.
Demon leaned forward to point. “Here’s Sudbury. This”-he pointed to a position just to the north-“is where Ferrar’s waiting.”
Royce studied the map. “If you were he, where would you choose to ambush the carriage?”
Without hesitation Demon placed a finger on the map. “Here-just a little way past the lane that leads to Glemsford and Clare. There’s also a country lane that leads up to Bury, just a little way along that lane. In terms of position, that spot is close to perfect.”
“Remember Ferrar and the cult tend to rely on overwhelming force.” Del looked at Demon. “Can he attack with all his men from there?”
Demon nodded. “There’s plenty of cover in stands of trees back from the road, but just there the usual hedges fall back and the road has wide, shallow ditches, open and clear, excellent for approaching a halted coach. All he’ll
