Stephanie Laurens - The Elusive Bride

The inn roof was slate-no danger there. Puzzled, Gareth returned to their room-to find Emily at the window, working the latch free.

He was on her in a heartbeat, grasping her shoulders and pulling her away from the glass. “Be careful! Your nightgown’s white-they’ll be able to see you.”

“Yes, but-”

“I know.” The scent of smoke was more definite near the window. “Let me.”

Releasing her, he closed his coat to his throat, then stepped to the window, tugged the latch free and eased the pane open.

A gust of wind blew the acrid smell of woodsmoke into the room.

He pushed the window wider, using the glass pane as a shield of sorts, until he could look down and along the inn. He could see smoke trailing from somewhere toward the rear. Following it back…through the deep gloom he could just make out three figures in heavy frieze standing staring at a pile of wood stacked against the inn wall.

They’d tried to set the wood alight, tried to train the flames back onto the wooden shutters, but it was December in England; the wood was damp. They’d managed to light a tiny blaze at the base of the stack. One crouched and blew-just as a rain squall struck, sweeping down, pelting the men and quenching the nascent fire, creating yet more smoke.

Coughing, hands waving, the three men stepped back. They muttered amongst themselves, then turned and walked away into the trees.

From above, Gareth watched them go.

“What’s going on?” Emily hissed.

The rain intensified. Gareth glanced at the now sodden stack of wood, then closed the window.

“They’re gone.” He faced Emily and Mooktu. “They tried to set the inn alight, but they didn’t try very hard.”

“ You get those damned letters back- every copy, every last one!” Ice-cold fury vibrated in Alex’s voice.

In the drawing room of the house they’d commandeered in Bury St. Edmunds, Daniel looked at Roderick, waited for his response.

He and Alex had just received a nasty shock. It appeared the letter Roderick had brought them there to intercept held a far greater threat than any of them had realized. Roderick-the idiot-had absentmindedly included Daniel’s and Alex’s real names. While no one else reading the letter would recognize the connection, if the letter-even a copy-found its way into the Earl of Shrewton’s hands, their father would certainly recognize his bastards. Roderick was his favorite legitimate son. As Alex had pointed out moments earlier, if push came to shove over the Black Cobra, the earl would unhesitatingly offer up his bastards as sacrificial lambs to save Roderick-nothing was more certain.

But Roderick couldn’t function as the Black Cobra without Daniel and Alex. And he knew it.

Eyes narrowed to ice-blue shards, his face like stone, Roderick curtly nodded. “All right. I will.”

“How?” Eyes of an even more wintry, unforgiving ice blue, Alex took up a position before the fireplace. “Tell us how, brother mine.”

Roderick glanced at the copy of the letter Delborough had been carrying, which Roderick had been forced to kill his own man, Larkins, to secure. “Hamilton’s at Chelmsford. I sent eight men to follow and harry their party, to keep them in sight. Tomorrow, I’ll take a force of our elite, and join the eight. We’ll have overwhelming numbers-there’s only four men counting Hamilton, and he has the woman to protect as well. We’ll stop him, seize him and the woman, and bring them here.”

Roderick shot a venomous look at Alex. “I’ll have to leave them to your tender mercies-I’ve just got word Monteith’s in the country. And he, too, is heading this way, but from the direction of Bath, with two guards, as Delborough had, and a pirate captain in train. I’ll have to go west to keep him out of Cambridgeshire.”

“This is rapidly degenerating into the worst possible scenario,” Daniel said. “The four couriers are landing at widely distant ports. Our watchers on the coast are stretched thin. Although we’ve already lost men, admittedly we have more, but knowing where to send them in time-”

“It’s just as well,” Alex said, tone dripping superiority, “that our four pigeons are making for a single roost, and that whoever this puppetmaster they’re reporting to is, he’s nearby.” Alex cast a lethal look at Roderick. “Which is why I suggested we move up here. I’ll hold the fort-man our inner rampart-here, with M’wallah and my guard, but you two will have to take command in the field.”

Alex’s gaze shifted to Daniel. Silently, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. Neither he nor Alex trusted Roderick any more than they trusted his-their-sire.

Unaware of the interplay, Roderick nodded curtly. “I’ll take Hamilton tomorrow. We’ve already got a force quartered on the other side of Cambridge-enough to deal with Monteith.” Roderick looked at Daniel. “You could-”

“No. Leave Monteith for the moment,” Alex said. “He’s not close enough to demand immediate action-we can wait for better details of his position before making our plans. As you say, we already have men in the area. Have we heard anything of Carstairs?”

“Not since he left Budapest.” Roderick ran a hand through his hair. “He’s still somewhere on the Continent, and hasn’t yet reached the coast.”

“As far as we know,” Alex dryly replied.

Daniel uncoiled his long legs and stood. “In that case, I’ll assist with Hamilton.”

Roderick inclined his head, accepting what he saw as an offer of help. “We’ll leave at first light and ride toward Chelmsford. A messenger will come north to meet us and confirm their route. With any luck, it’ll be toward us, along the road through Sudbury. Once we locate the carriage and gather our eight following it, we can pick our spot.”

Roderick glanced at Alex. “Given those riding with us tomorrow will be from our elite, I can’t see how we can fail to seize Hamilton, meddling Miss Ensworth, and the letter.”

Alex’s features had eased to their customary elegant serenity. “That sounds excellent.” Alex met Roderick’s eyes, lightly smiled. “I’ll look forward to celebrating your success.”

20th December, 1822

Still night

Our room at the inn in Chelmsford

Dear Diary,

This is it-our final day on the road. And I have never felt so torn in my life. I want so much to reach Elveden with Gareth and the others all safe and well, if I could just wish us there now…but that would mean we miss what will be our last and possibly best chance to engage with the enemy and reduce the cult’s numbers, especially in this area, which is apparently the crux of Wolverstone’s plan.

As Tristan and Jack, and even Gareth, clearly hold Wolverstone in high esteem, I have to believe his plan is both sound and worthwhile. That as the three of them believe it is important and incumbent on them to engage and eliminate cultists, then it truly is.

I have to believe-and in my heart I do believe-that striking a blow against the cult today will be worth whatever risk it entails.

Whatever eventuates, as an indomitable Englishwoman who has traveled widely and survived innumerable attacks in recent weeks, I intend to play my part. I almost hope something happens so that I can, so that I can make a real contribution to avenging poor MacFarlane.

His face is with me still. His bravery will always be with me.

I have absolutely no intention of letting Gareth die at the hands of the Black Cobra.

E.

While they breakfasted by lamplight, Gareth told the others of the attempt to set fire to the inn. “Standard practice for cultists, but to no purpose here.”