“I’ll do it! I’ll do it, sahib!” Sangay could barely get the words out through his chattering teeth. When the man abruptly let him go, he staggered, then stood, and hung his head. “I will do as you say.”
No choice. He could barely breathe for sheer terror.
“So, have you looked? Done anything at all since Southampton?”
“Oh, yes, sahib, yes. I have been searching through all the general baggage, sahib, but there’s no scroll-holder there. It must be kept with the baggage the colonel-sahib keeps in his room, or perhaps with the bags his man Cobby keeps with him. Or the colonel-sahib might be carrying it with him, only I don’t think he is because I have looked closely and I cannot see how such a thing would fit beneath his coat.”
“I doubt he’ll carry it with him.”
“Perhaps”-Sangay brightened-“it is in the memsahib’s bags?”
The man eyed him, then nodded. “Perhaps. You search everywhere until you find it, understand? But try to do it without being caught. We’ve a few days yet. Better you look until you find it, then bring it to me, rather than you get caught before you get your hands on it-understand?”
Sangay bobbed his head repeatedly. “Yes, sahib. I’m to stay hidden until I find it-no one must know I am looking for this thing.”
“That’s right. You do that, and no one will touch your mother-remember that. Now, what do you know about the other two gentlemen who go out when the colonel does? They seem to be guarding him.”
“Yes, sahib-sir-they are friends of his.” Sangay screwed up his face. “I have not heard their names well enough to say them, but they are at the hotel, too, in other rooms on the same floor.”
“Are they, indeed?” The man fell silent.
Sangay shivered, unobtrusively shifting from one foot to the other. Carefully he tucked his hands under his arms and hugged himself, bowing his thin shoulders away from the wind.
“Keep an eye on those two, but you’d best keep out of their way. But how have you been hiding yourself?”
Sangay shrugged. “The colonel-sahib’s people think I’m one of the memsahib’s servants, and her people think I’m a one of the colonel-sahib’s servants.”
The man looked at him through narrowing eyes. “Very clever. You’re quick, I’ll give you that. Just don’t be forgetting your maataa won’t be able to escape the Black Cobra.”
Sangay shivered. “No, sahib. I won’t be forgetting that.”
“Good. Now get back in there and find the scroll-holder. Once you do, all you need do is come out and slip away-I’ll be watching. I’ll come and meet you.”
“Yes, sahib. I will be getting back now.” Receiving a nod of assent, Sangay turned and, head down against the biting wind, slipped back around the corner, then walked slowly, despondently, back along the alley.
He hadn’t thought it possible, but he felt even more miserable, even more filled with black despair. All he could do was do as the man told him, and pray to the gods that something would happen-to the man, perhaps?-to save him from the nightmare his life had become. And to save his maataa, too.
Five
December 13
Grillon’s Hotel, Albemarle Street
Del was still in the bath when Cobby returned.
“Found just the thing.” Cobby shut the door.
“A recital at St. Martin-in-the-Fields. It’s only a short hackney ride away.”
Del considered, nodded. “Perfect.” He closed his eyes, laid his head back again. “Get tickets.”
“Don’t have to. It’s free, apparently. You can just walk in.”
December 13
St. Martin-in-the-Fields, Trafalgar Square
He should, Del realized, have registered what Cobby’s words meant. As he escorted an eager Deliah through the crowd thronging the old church’s wide porch, he berated himself for not having seen the danger.
Yes, they could simply walk in-and so could anyone else.
He glanced at Deliah, wondered-again-if he should suggest they leave. Once again, he held his tongue. The light in her face, in her jade eyes, stated louder than words that she was looking forward to the performance.
Reaching the main doors, she led the way in, going straight through the foyer and into the nave. She started down it, looking right and left, evaluating the available seats. Taller than she, Del could see over the crowd clogging the aisle. Taking her elbow, he steered her to two seats in a pew two-thirds of the way down the nave.
Excusing herself to the well-dressed lady in the corner of the pew, Deliah slid past and on, then, leaving space for Del, sat and arranged her skirts.
After taking note of the unquestionably innocent couples filling the pew behind theirs, Del sat, then surveyed those in the pew ahead.
All safe enough.
Despite the season, the majority of the crowd were tonnish, the rest mainly gentry or well-to-do merchants. But he’d spotted a few less savory sorts hanging about the fringes of the crowd, and the rear pews were jammed with shabby coats and unkempt figures.
Deliah had picked up a printed program in the foyer. Consulting it, she commented excitedly and knowledgably about the various airs and sonatas to be performed by the small chamber orchestra. Clearly she enjoyed music and had been starved of this type of entertainment over the years she’d been away.
So had he, but this particular entertainment he could have done without. Far from feeling relaxed, every sense he possessed was on high alert. His eyes incessantly scanned, his ears constantly sorted through the babel around them, listening for accents that weren’t English, or tones that boded ill.
If he’d been the Black Cobra, this would have been an opportunity too good to pass up. Whether the fiend had realized Tony and Gervase were their guards, he had no idea. Cobby had confirmed that the reputation of Grillon’s for absolute discretion with respect to their guests was well deserved; it was unlikely the staff had spoken of the con nection between his party and the two gentlemen. But if the Cobra did know, then this excursion-just Del and Deliah alone at night, without even Cobby, Mustaf, or her bodyguard Kumulay-was tailor-made for the Cobra’s purpose. He didn’t even need to seize both of them; either would do.
The orchestra started to file in. There was a rush to fill the last seats as the musicians settled on the chairs arranged before the steps to the altar.
An expectant hush fell, then the conductor appeared, walked to his lectern, bowed to the audience, then turned to his players and raised his baton.
A lone violin began to sing, then the other instruments joined in. Even in his state of battle-ready alert, Del felt the music swell and take hold. He glanced at Deliah.
And didn’t look away. She was caught in the music, swept away on the tide. Her eyes glowed with pleasure; her luscious lips had curved, parted.
She was oblivious, enchanted by the music. He was enthralled, ensorcelled by her.
As the music continued, the pieces flowing one to the other with only the barest pause to allow the musicians to readjust their sheets, he tried to remain attuned to their surroundings, watchful, alert to any potential danger, yet she-her face, her radiant expression, those lips that had from the first enticed-held a far stronger fascination.
A fascination that was rapidly approaching obsession.
The battle within wasn’t one he was destined to win. In the end, he surrendered, let his eyes feast, and left whatever might come later for later.
The entire concert passed without incident. If Deliah was at all aware of his tension she gave no sign.
It was raining when, one couple amid a sea of others, they reached the edge of the porch. The hackneys were doing a roaring trade. Taking Deliah’s hand, Del stepped onto the wet steps just as a hackney pulled into the curb below. He immediately hailed it. The driver saluted with his whip.