would help if you would smile and hang on my arm. And, if possible, remain silent.”
Deliah arched her brows, but twined her arm in his and endeavored to keep a light, airy smile on her face.
They started promenading. There were many others about, and while some hurried past with papers in their hands, or were deep in serious discussions, most seemed to be socializing-discussing business, perhaps, but without any specific intent.
Some among the gathering-mostly officers in the uniforms of various regiments, but others in civilian attire- recognized Del. All evinced surprise as they shook his hand. “What brings you home?” was the common first question.
One, Deliah noted, he didn’t actually answer. Instead, he spoke of when he’d arrived, and asked after others who might be there that day. When a few in uniform asked after his colleagues, he admitted some others were also expected home any day.
It didn’t take long for Deliah to realize that, with her hanging as directed, sweetly smiling on his arm, those who spoke with them leapt to the obvious conclusion.
When they moved on through an archway into the next room, she leaned close and murmured, “You’re deliberately letting people imagine that you came home to marry me.”
He glanced at her, met her eyes. “It’s easier than telling the truth.”
She mulled over that for a moment, then asked, “Why? Why not say you’re here to lay evidence against the Black Cobra? There’s no reason to keep it secret, is there? The Black Cobra already knows.”
“True. But my mission is to draw the cultists out, not to encourage a horde of well-meaning others to become involved. Many of those here know of the Black Cobra’s villainy and would be happy to assist in bringing him down. Yet playing this sort of game is the same as cooking-having too many cooks doesn’t help.”
Another gentleman approached to speak with Del. Deliah continued to smile while she pondered his words.
The room they were now in, the New Sale Room, was decorated with pilasters and paintings of scenes of Indian commerce. Curious, she let her eyes feast, while her mind turned over their situation.
They continued to stroll, and the New Sale Room gave way to the Old Sale Room, with statues of various dignitaries. She made out Lord Clive and Sir Eyre Coote among them. Although she listened to Del’s exchanges, they added little to what she already knew of him, other than establishing that he was held in high esteem, by the miltary men especially, but by the civilians, too.
They eventually strolled on into what Del told her was the room of the Committee of Correspondence. The large chamber held portraits of past governors-general, the Marquis of Cornwallis and Warren Hastings among them. Of more interest to her was the large number of paintings depicting views of Indian scenery that lined the walls.
At last, after more than an hour, they returned to the grand foyer.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Deliah turned to him and said, “I realize now that my insisting you escort me home to Humberside has made your mission that much more difficult-more complicated.”
She knew he hadn’t intended to include her among the “well-meaning others,” that he’d accepted her help and her place in their little group of conspirators, but he would have preferred to be rid of her from the start…and if that kiss this morning had demonstrated anything, it was that she couldn’t trust herself-her inner self-when it came to him, when he was anywhere near.
Dragging in a quick breath, she lifted her chin. “So I’ll apologize for that, and if it will make your mission easier, you can leave me here, in London. I can go and stay with my old governess for a few days, until you go on to Cam bridgeshire and lead the Black Cobra away. Then I can make my way home. I’ll have Kumulay and the rest of my household with me. It’ll be perfectly safe.”
“No.” Del didn’t even think before the answer was on his lips. He paused, frowning. Reminded of her earlier insistence on propriety-something he now knew was uncharacteristic-he had to wonder why she’d acted as she had and clung so tenaciously to his promised escort, but he set that conundrum aside for later. He had to quash her latest suggestion; his instinctive response was to reject it out of hand. Which he’d done. Now he needed to assemble his rationalization. His explanation.
His excuse.
He’d managed to keep his expression impassive. His eyes locked with hers, he stated, “You had your chance to bow out of my mission at the beginning, but now you’re a part of it-an integral part as far as the Black Cobra is concerned-so you have to stay with me and see it through to the end.”
Only then would she be safe. Regardless of what might develop between them-and after this morning he was increasingly certain something would-there was no way this side of Heaven he would let her out of his orbit to be exposed to the malicious vindictiveness of the Black Cobra.
She held his gaze, studied his eyes, considered his words, then inclined her head. “If that’s what you truly wish, then I’ll stay.”
He was unprepared for the relief that swept through him.
Entirely satisfied-she hadn’t wanted to step back but had felt honor-bound to make the offer-Deliah looked around again, thinking of the large number who’d come to talk to him. “Isn’t there
“If there was, I would, but as the culprit’s Ferrar, there’s no one in the company I feel confident would-or could-see justice done. Ferrar’s father, the earl, is a director, and he almost certainly has too many of the other directors in his pocket. That’s his way of doing business.”
Del swept the foyer one last time, then took her arm. “Come. We’ve spent enough time here-talked to enough people to have Ferrar wondering.”
Deliah looked at him. “Is he here?”
“No, but various associates are. News of my visit will do the rounds. The Black Cobra will hear.”
He escorted her outside, onto the pavement in front of the building.
When he halted and pulled out his fob-watch, she glanced across the street and saw Tony lounging, with Gervase further along. “Where to now?”
Replacing his watch, he said, “It’s just after three, and the afternoon is fine. So how would a lady of your ilk pass the time?”
Deliah wasn’t averse to an amble in Hyde Park. Not only was she happy to stretch her legs over the lush lawns but as the female half of the ton-or at least as much of it as remained in the capital in that season-was arrayed in its customary splendor in the carriages drawn up along the Avenue, there was plenty to catch her eye.
Strolling beside her, Del noticed her absorption. “I thought you weren’t all that interested in the latest fashions.”
“I’m not.” Her eye caught by a particularly fine crepe gown-very bravely worn considering the icy breeze that rattled the bare branches-she answered absentmindedly. “I’m more interested in the materials themselves.”
A moment passed. “Why?”
She blinked, realized what she’d said. Glanced at him, and saw from the intentness in his eyes that he wasn’t likely to accept an evasive answer. And truly, why should she conceal her success? Especially from an ex-East India Company man. “I…have an interest-a commercial interest-in cotton.”
His brows rose.
She hurried on, “My primary investments are in sugar cane, but I recently had an opportunity to buy into cotton farming and importation, and I did. Consequently, I’m interested in the degree to which cotton is used compared to wool or silk.”
He was now regarding her with fascinated interest. “You invest?”
Ladies weren’t supposed to, of course, but she was tired of hiding her light under a bushel. Tired of pretending to be a woman she was not. She nodded. “My uncle encouraged me to learn the ropes. While he’s terribly conservative in some ways, in others, he’s quite progressive. And, of course, in Jamaica it’s not so unheard of for ladies to be involved.”
She glanced at Del, wondering if he’d prove to be one of those gentlemen for whom the very notion of ladies being involved in making money was simply scandalous.
“What sort of company is it? Has it been operational for long? And are the returns as good as with sugarcane?”
