The Untamed Bride by Stephanie Laurens Read Free Book Online Page B

obvious—he’s taken a ship of the line to Southampton. Exactly as if he were simply heading home. Hamilton took a sloop to Aden, as if he were ferrying some diplomatic communication along the way—but I’ve checked, and he isn’t. Monteith and Carstairs have vanished. Monteith’s household is due to leave shortly on a company ship for Bournemouth, but he’s not with them and they don’t know where he is. Their orders are to go to an inn outside Bournemouth and to wait there until he comes. Carstairs has only one man, a Pathan who’s as loyal as they come, and they’ve both disappeared. I’ve had all the passenger and crew lists combed, but there’s no sign of anyone who might conceivably be either Monteith or Carstairs leaving Bombay by sea. Larkins believes they’ve gone overland, or at least by land to some other port. He’s put men on their trail, but it’ll be days, perhaps weeks, before we hear if they’ve located them.”
    “What orders did you give those you sent after them?” the second speaker asked.
    “To kill them, and anyone with them, and above all, to retrieve those bloody scroll-holders.”
    “Indeed.” A momentary pause ensued, then the second speaker said, “So we have four men heading to England—one with the original document and three presumably as decoys. If the letter with your seal gets into the wrong hands in England, then we’ll face a very serious problem indeed.”
    The second speaker exchanged a glance with the man in the armchair, then looked at the first speaker. “You’re right. We have to get that letter back. You did precisely right in loosing our hounds and sending them on the hunt. However…” After another glance at the other man, the second speaker continued, “I believe, in the circumstances, that we should head home, too. Should our hounds fail us, and Delborough and the other three reach England’s shores, then given the bounty the Black Cobra brings us, it would be wise for us to be there, close to the action, to ensure the original letter never gets into the hands of anyone likely or able to interfere with our enterprise.”
    The first speaker nodded. “There’s a fast frigate just in from Calcutta. She’ll be sailing the day after tommorrow for Southampton.”
    “Excellent!” The second speaker rose. “Secure passage on it for us and our staffs. Who knows? We might reach Southampton in time to welcome the importunate colonel.”
    “Indeed.” The first speaker smiled thinly. “I’ll take great delight in seeing him receive his just reward.”

One
    December 11, 1822
Southampton Water, England
    D el stood on the deck of the Princess Louise , the twelve-hundred-ton East Indiaman on which he and his small household had left Bombay, and watched the Southampton docks draw steadily nearer.
    The wind whipped his hair, sent chill fingers sliding beneath his greatcoat collar. From horizon to horizon, the sky was an unrelieved steel-gray, but at least it wasn’t raining; he was thankful for small mercies. After the warmth of India, and the balmy days rounding Africa, the change in temperature as they’d headed north over the last week had been an uncomfortable reminder of the reality of an English winter.
    Artfully angled, the ship surged on the tide, aligning with the dock, the distance between lessening with every moment, the raucous cries of wheeling gulls a strident counterpoint to the bellows of the bosun as he directed the crew in the dicey business of bringing the heavy ship alongside the timber dock.
    Del scanned the dockside crowd waiting to greet those on board. He was under no illusions; the instant he stepped off the gangplank, the Black Cobra’s game would be afootagain. He felt restless, impatient for action—the same compulsion he was accustomed to feeling in those moments on the battlefield when, with his horse skittish beneath him, held on a tight rein, he would wait with his men for the order to charge. The same anticipation rode