those of yesterday.”
Del grunted.
Already finished, Gyles, sitting opposite, pushed aside his plate. “So, what are your plans for the lovely Miss Duncannon?”
Del frowned at his plate, poked at a mushroom. “Women-ladies in particular-are damned confusing.”
The others, to a man, laughed.
“There’s nothing you can tell us about that,” Demon stated.
“Mind you,” Richard said, “they do have a logic of their own.”
“Indubitably.” Gervase nodded. “It’s just that it’s so alien-”
“Not to mention convoluted,” Tony interjected.
“That it’s devilishly hard to recognize,” Gervase continued, “and near impossible to follow.”
“My advice,” Vane said, “such as it is, is not to try. Perseverance, in my experience, usually wins.”
Devil scoffed. “And your wife is called what? Patience.”
Vane grinned, and responded.
Del let the resulting exchange of jocular insults fly past him. The night had been eventful, although matters hadn’t gone quite as he’d planned-something that happened frequently when Deliah was involved.
Something had made her uncertain, tempted her to play safe and try to back away from him, to play down their relationship, yet the night’s interludes had left him even more convinced that not only was she the lady for him-the one and only lady he wanted by his side, a helpmate and partner as they constructed their joint future-but, all uncertainties aside, that he was the man for her.
What had caused her uncertainty and made her unsure, he didn’t know, but how she could miss, not see, not correctly interpret her own passionate response, her own strength and inner fierceness as she’d clung to him, soft and giving and so elementally all he would ever want in a bride, he couldn’t understand.
She was his.
He’d set out to prove that last night. To demonstrate it in actions impossible to misconstrue or misinterpret. But it had been she who had proved his point. She who, at the end, had conquered him by being everything his soul wanted, and all his heart desired.
She’d proved that he was hers.
Regardless, she didn’t seem to view their relationship with the clarity he did. With the conviction, the absolute acceptance. Presumably, she hadn’t yet thought things through to the same extent he had. She would, he assumed, but the question was when. How long would it take her to realize…?
He wasn’t of a mind to give her too long, to wait too long to formally claim her. His response to her retreat-the intense vulnerability that had reared its head and left
He wouldn’t have peace of mind, would not function at his best, if he was distracted by the prospect of her slipping through his fingers and somehow becoming “not his.”
That was a prospect he wasn’t willing to consider, let alone countenance.
Chasing the last of his kedgeree around his plate, he made up his mind. His original plan had been to wait until his mission was complete before he made an offer, but the hallmark of a good commander was an ability to rescript plans on the run, whenever circumstances changed.
Looking up, he discovered the others had progressed to discussing the likely hunting in coming months. He waited for a lull, then turned to Devil. “What do you know of Wolverstone?”
Devil arched his brows, sat back, and gave him a potted history of the man Del had heard of only as Dalziel. Devil wasn’t given to exaggeration, yet his description painted a picture of a nobleman of imposing abilities, a man of action like them, yet one who had, through necessity, been equally active in the political field.
Tony and Gervase volunteered their own views, colored by a closer professional acquaintance.
“I’d trust him with my life,” Gervase concluded. “And even more telling, with Madeline’s and my children’s lives.”
Tony merely nodded. “Your mission couldn’t be in better, safer, or more effective hands.”
Devil added a short description of Minerva, Wolverstone’s duchess, and ended with a word sketch of Elveden Grange, Wolverstone’s nearby estate. “It’s thirty miles due east, this side of Thetford. His visits there are frequent, but irregular-the family normally spend Christmas at Wolverstone Castle in Northumbria.”
“So there’s no reason Ferrar, even if he knows of him, will expect Wolverstone to be at Elveden,” Del said.
Devil nodded. “As soon as the snow thaws enough, I’ll send a rider to Elveden to ask Royce what he wants us to do next. Presumably that’ll rest at least in part on whether your other friends have reached our shores.” He looked at Demon. “Possibly tomorrow, do you think, if we get no more falls?”
Demon, living at Newmarket, knew the area in question best. He nodded. “I should be able to make it across tomorrow. Not sure I’d trust anyone else to do it, but I’m happy to go.”
Gabriel snorted. “You just want to escape another morning with your brats.”
Demon grinned. “And I can.”
A footstep sounded on the floor above. They all exchanged glances, then Devil pushed back from the table. “That sounds like our other halves are up and about. Might I suggest we retire to the billiard room?”
Chairs scraping on the floor was all the answer the others made. In a general exodus, they made their way out of the door.
Passing through it beside Del, Lucifer caught his eye. “Any chance of examining that scroll-holder? I’m curious as to the construction-it sounds unlike anything I’ve seen.”
Del had heard that Lucifer was now something of an expert on antiques and curios. He nodded. “I’ll fetch it and meet you in the billiard room.”
Lucifer inclined his head.
Del went with the others down the corridor, then parted from them and went up a secondary stair to his room.
Ten minutes later, Del strode into the billiard room. At the sound of his footsteps, all conversation ceased. Gyles, bent over the billiard table, about to place a shot, froze, then straightened. Devil and Richard, standing by the table, cues in hand, swung around, alerted.
All eyes locked on Del as he halted just inside the doorway.
Grim-faced, he met their questioning gazes. “The scroll-holder’s gone.”
There was silence for a moment, then Devil asked, “How?”
When Del shook his head, Lucifer asked, “Where was it?”
“In the top drawer of the tallboy in my room. It’s not there, nor anywhere else in the room now, and Cobby hasn’t seen it since yesterday.” One hand rising to his hip, Del plowed the other through his hair. “Before, until Royston, either Cobby or Mustaf-one of my staff-carried it with them, strapped to their body. Once we reached here, there didn’t seem any reason not to leave it in the room.” He looked at Devil. “How in all Hades did the Black Cobra reach it?”
“Are we sure it’s him?” Gabriel asked. “Could the scroll-holder itself have attracted a thief?”
“Unlikely,” Gervase replied. “I wouldn’t have said it’s all that special.”
“It isn’t,” Del said. “It’s at best a curiosity. I don’t think anyone would imagine it had any intrinsic value.”
“So the letter is the only attraction.” Gyles met Del’s gaze. “But who could have taken it? Could someone unknown have slipped inside?”
“Given the snow, I doubt it.” Vane looked at Devil. “But before we go further, perhaps we should check?”
Devil nodded. “Let’s go up to the tower and see.” Laying down his cue, he headed for the door.
His cousins fell in in his wake. Del, Tony, Gyles, and Gervase all exchanged mystified glances, but the Cynsters strode forward with purpose, so they followed.
Into the central part of the mansion, then up a narrow spiral stair that led up and up, eventually opening into a small square room. Del looked around as he stepped out of the stairwell, and realized they were at the top of the tower that stood high above the Somersham Place roofs. The wide windows on all sides gave magnificent views over the surrounding lands.
It was a tight fit with all nine of them in the tower room. They stood shoulder to shoulder, and looked out. Over
