They were to marry, so she needed to know. He shook his head. “No. There’s just me, now. My parents were only children, too. They married later in life, so were older when I was born. My father was a vicar, but he was one of those the archdiocese used to fill vacancies temporarily, so we constantly moved about the county.” He held her gaze. “So I have no family, and there really isn’t anywhere I call home.”
“Where were you born?”
“Thame, Oxfordshire. You?” Turnabout was fair, and he wanted to learn about her more than he wanted her to learn about him. There was so little to tell.
Happiness lit her face as she said, “I was born at Eldridge Hall, my parents’ house-it’s just outside Thornby, in Northamptonshire. That’s home-for me, and all my brothers and sisters. At least it was until they married-there’s only me and Rufus still left in the nest, as it were, but the others visit often.”
“You’re one of eight, as I recall. I take it you have lots of cousins, too?” That, he realized, explained her ease with the Juneaux, her facility in interacting with them-something he’d lacked. Not that he’d known he’d lacked, not until he’d seen her engage with the large family in a way he would never have thought to do…probably couldn’t have done even if he’d wished. He simply didn’t know how, didn’t know the ways.
“Yes, there’s quite a clan-a horde of uncles, aunts, and cousins on both sides.”
He didn’t need to ask how she got on with her family-the answer was there in her affectionate smile, in the light that glowed in her eyes.
He’d never shared that sort of connection with anyone, not when he was a child, not later…until he’d joined the Guards and, from the first, had fallen in with Del, Rafe, and Logan.
“I don’t have any siblings”-he met her eyes-“but you might say I have brothers-in-arms.”
She looked into his eyes, studied them. “Those three in the officers’ mess?”
He nodded. She didn’t ask, didn’t press, but as they rolled on up the highway and the northern outskirts of Marseilles fell behind, he told her how he’d met the other three-told her tales of their exploits and adventures. When she laughed, he asked about her brothers and sisters, and she reciprocated, opening his eyes to a love he’d never known. The closest thing to it was the camaraderie, the connection, he shared with the other three, yet even that fell short of the warmth, depth, and breadth of togetherness Emily described, that she’d experienced and embraced within her family.
The more she told him, the more he yearned for something he’d never known. When he married her…
The thought circled in his brain as he and she fell silent, and the carriage rumbled steadily on.
“He is like a cobra himself.” The eldest of the three cultists sent to watch the highway leading north out of Marseilles hawked and spat on the rocky ground. “I would not be angering Uncle for anything today. He was in such a mood after the others from the docks came yesterday to report that they hadn’t seen the major or his party.”
The three were perched among rocks and boulders on a shoulder overlooking the highway.
The youngest grinned slyly. “Those men were lucky. I heard Akbar say that Uncle has lost so many men already that he won’t discipline any-he needs every able-bodied man he has, at least for now.”
“Ah-that explains it.” The third man nodded. “I have never known Uncle to be so lenient before. Usually, one mistake, and-” He drew his finger across his throat. “The cult does not tolerate failure.”
“This is true.” The eldest nudged the youngest with the toe of his boot. “You will be wise to remember that if-as seems likely-the major manages to take this road north before the others can catch him in the town. If that happens, Uncle will gather most of us and head north in pursuit-and I know for a fact that the Black Cobra has placed many, many of us along this channel up there. If the major goes that way, Uncle will follow, and then he’ll have plenty of men-and then it will once again be death if you fail.”
The youngest shrugged. The elder two exchanged glances.
Then the youngest raised the spyglass he held and trained it on the first of two carriages bowling north along the road.
The elder two settled back and returned to staring at the sky. Countless carriages had already passed by.
“Hi!” The excited exclamation broke their absorption. The youngest bounced with excitement, then lowered the spyglass and held it out. “That is them-I am sure of it. Look at the men beside the drivers. The first is the major’s batman, yes?”
The eldest had taken the spyglass. After a moment, he nodded. He handed the glass on to the third man, then turned to the youngest. “You stay here until they pass, then follow, but not close. Stay off the road and do not let them see you. We”-he collected his comrade with a glance-“will go and take the good news to Uncle. When he and the rest of us catch up with you, Uncle will commend you as you rightly deserve.”
Meanwhile the elder two, who had been staring at the sky for hours, would reap the glory of Uncle’s approbation, but the youngest cultist knew that that was the way of the world, so he nodded. “I will follow them, and wait for Uncle and the others to join me.”
Without further ado, the elder two scrambled back over the rocks to where they’d left their stolen mounts.
Fourteen
30th November, 1822
Mid-morning
In our carriage on the road to Lyon
Dear Diary,
I am rushing to scribble this while Gareth is out of the carriage getting fresh horses put to. The last two days-and even more the last two nights-have been well worth my earlier efforts. My campaign has been assisted by the smallness of the village inns we’ve stopped at. As I invariably have the largest and most comfortable chamber to myself, and Arnia and Mooktu and Dorcas usually take the remaining rooms, it’s been undeniably more sensible for Gareth to join me in my bed than sleep in the stables with the rest of the men.
And then, of course…
With dogged perseverance, I will claim all my heart desires.
E.
That evening they arrived in Lyon. They’d made excellent time, and Gareth thanked the twist of fate that had sent them the Juneau cousins, Gustav and Pierre, as coachmen. Experienced, with just the right touch of belligerence, they’d already proved themselves up to the task of pressing ahead regardless of obstacles like traffic and overturned drays.
They’d barreled through, and they’d reached their first major town without seeing hide nor hair of any cultist.
That, Gareth felt certain, would change all too soon.
With Emily, smiling sweetly, beside him, he walked into the town’s largest hotel. It was a predominantly timber structure. He would have preferred stone, but the further they’d come north, the weather had turned damp and cold, and smaller establishments came with other hazards, namely easy access to the upper floors.
One glance confirmed that this hotel provided reasonable security. He continued to the counter at the rear of the foyer, Emily on his arm.
There were plenty of rooms to be had. He could easily request adjoining chambers for him and Emily, but didn’t. Their party was already cognizant of the fact that they were sharing a bed, and every Frenchman or -woman who laid eyes on them instantly assumed they were already wed.
Neither Emily nor he made any attempt to correct that mistaken assumption, so there hardly seemed any point in hiring separate rooms.
Even if he did, he’d spend the night in her bed.