There were grim looks all around, and softly muttered curses, when he described James MacFarlane’s death.
“He was a good man.” Devil drained his glass, then reached for the decanter. His words were echoed as the others did the same.
Del nodded and continued, detailing the events that had led to the four of them-he, Gareth, Logan, and Rafe-leaving Bombay, then described the action he’d seen on his journey, all the way through to that afternoon. Tony and Gervase supplied their observations, and the outcomes of their attempts to gain some clue as to the Black Cobra’s lair.
Tony shook his dark head. “Until today, we’d seen nary a sign of any cultist. But clearly they’re here-the Lord only knows where he’s hiding them. With their peculiar costume, they’ll have no hope of blending into the scenery.”
Devil met Del’s eyes. “That’s a point we should convey to Wolverstone. We’ll send a rider before dinner. The weath er’s closing in, so we’d better seize the chance to let him know you’ve arrived safely, and that there are indeed cultists about.”
“How far away is he?” Del asked.
“He’s at Elveden Grange, about thirty miles due east.” Devil sipped, then went on, “Our orders are to have all three of you remain, for a few days at least, in the hope-distant though it might be-that the Black Cobra will try a sortie. It’s possible that, not knowing you were headed here, he won’t have had time to do any reconnaissance, and so won’t realize how many ex-cavalry there are in the house.” He paused, head tilted. “If he could throw fourteen at you on the road, it’s possible he might feel he has the numbers for a foray against this place.”
Del grimaced. “That’s a long shot. On his own ground, he’s showy and confident, but he’s been careful, watchful and wary over here.”
Devil levelled a sharp gaze on him. “Don’t disillusion us. You’ll have noticed none of us have taken you to task over reducing the enemy by fourteen, all by yourselves? You were supposed to share.”
Del hid his curving lips behind his glass. “Sorry. Blame our success on Deliah-if it weren’t for her, we’d never have drawn the cultists out.”
Demon snorted. “Typical female. And she killed two as well? Haven’t you explained that’s our job? She’s supposed to sit quietly and leave it to us.”
Del’s brows rose. “I don’t suppose you’d like to undertake to explain that to her in words she’ll accept?”
Quite a few men choked.
“Once he’s worked out how to do that with his wife,” Scandal put in, “no doubt he’ll oblige.”
A heavy sigh sounded, drawing all attention to Vane, who’d been prowling behind Devil’s chair. He turned from the window, letting the curtain fall closed. “I hate to further dampen spirits, so to speak, but it’s started snowing.” He looked at Devil. “You’d better get that rider on his way if you want him to reach Elveden tonight.”
There were groans all around.
Devil rose and rang for Sligo.
Del, listening to the others’ predictions, recalled that in that season, in that part of the country, the snowfalls could be considerable.
Slumping back, he grimaced. “It doesn’t look as if we’re going to have much luck in getting the Black Cobra to come to us.”
Upstairs in the duchess’s sitting room, Deliah had just finished telling the other ladies everything she knew of Del’s mission.
Relating the details of the incident that afternoon had left her more shaken than she’d been at the time.
Honoria calmly handed her another cup of tea. “It’s often worse reliving it-that’s when you realize all the things that might have gone wrong, how much worse it all might have been.”
Deliah sipped, met Honoria’s eyes, glanced at the others, all nodding sagely. Amazing. Not one of them had paled, let alone looked likely to faint when she’d described shooting a man, then running one through-although technically he’d run himself through. She’d just held the sword.
The tea slid down, warming, comforting-just like the company.
“I believe I speak for all of us”-Catriona glanced around the circle before focusing on Deliah-“in extending my heartfelt thanks to you for reducing the threat. For engineering a situation that successfully reduced this fiend’s troops, especially those in this area.”
“Indeed.” Alathea exchanged a long-suffering look with the others. “We know what our husbands are like.”
Felicity set down her empty cup. “We’ll have to keep an eye on them.” She glanced at Honoria. “A closer eye than usual.”
Honoria nodded. “Luckily, it appears the weather has come to our aid.” She smiled. “It’s snowing.”
“Really?”
“At last!”
“Let’s see.”
Phyllida, Catriona and Flick all rose and went to the wide window. Throwing open the curtains, they peered through the glass.
“It’s coming down nicely,” Flick reported.
“Wonderful!” Phyllida turned back inside. “Who knows? We might even have a white Christmas. The children will be in alt.”
A discussion ensued of the possibilities for keeping their numerous offspring amused. Deliah sat back and listened, smiling at the comments.
For quite the first time in her life wishing she had reason to join in.
The realization was so startling she sobered, blinked.
Just as the sound of a gong resonated through the house.
“Time to dress for dinner.” Honoria stood, waited until Deliah set down her cup and rose, too. “Come, I’ll show you to your room. Your maid should be there by now.”
They dispersed, the others heading down various corridors in groups of twos and threes, heads together, chatting, while she and Honoria headed around the gallery.
“If you get tired of us, do say.” Honoria caught her eye and smiled. “I assure you we won’t be offended. You’ve been traveling, while we’ve been sitting here waiting for something to happen. And you’ve already done wonders to relieve our boredom.”
“That,” Deliah replied, “was entirely my pleasure.”
And it had been.
Honoria left her at the door of a well-appointed chamber, and went on to her own rooms to change for the evening.
Closing the door, Deliah smiled at Bess. “Everything all right?”
Bess’s answering smile was wide. “Lovely place, this. The staff is so friendly. We’ve all settled in already. Now!” Going to the bed, Bess picked up and displayed the gold satin gown from Madame Latour. “Seeing as this is a duke’s house, I thought you might want to wear this.”
Deliah studied the deceptively simple, unquestionably elegant evening gown, and gave thanks for Del’s insistence that she take it. She nodded. “Yes-that’s perfect.”
Standing before the mirror, she started pulling the pins from her hair, and reminded herself to extract from him the sum he’d paid for the gowns before they reached home.
For tonight, however, she saw no reason not to take advantage of time, place, and gown.
Nine
Del was standing by the fireplace with Devil when Deliah walked into the drawing room.
The room was abuzz with conversation, yet for him a silence fell.
He was deaf. He felt dazed.
He couldn’t drag his eyes from the sight of Deliah in the gold satin gown he remembered so well, standing poised in the doorway-apparently unaware of the havoc she was causing.
Then she moved. His mouth dried as he watched her, lips lightly curved, glide across the room to join Honoria and two of the other ladies standing chatting with Gervase.
Del’s chest swelled as he finally managed to drag in a breath and break free of her spell. Instinctively, he looked at Devil. And saw his green gaze also fixed across the room.
Some unfamiliar emotion flared-part irritation, part irrational fear…jealousy? He couldn’t recall feeling it before, not over a woman, and never so sharply. Tamping it down, he glanced again across the room.