Madeline strolled up, smiling. “I was about to ask the same thing. They look just the thing-so practical.”

Linnet gave up trying to ignore what she had thought to be her inappropriate attire. “Not so much in the height of summer, but for most of the year, yes. They give much better protection than cloth, or even buckskin.” Linnet glanced from one to the other. “Do you know Flick-Demon’s wife?”

“Yes, indeed-and she’s another who will tie you down and torture you if you don’t tell,” Madeline said.

Linnet laughed. “I’ll tell-I’ve already told Penny. I get them from a leatherworker in Exeter.”

“We’ll extract the directions later,” Kit said. “But did I hear Royce say you captain your own ship?” When Linnet nodded, Kit vowed, “I am so deeply jealous. I’ve wanted to sail my own ship for forever, but Jack always claims the wheel. You’d think with a husband in shipping I could have just one tiny yacht of my own.”

Linnet’s brain made the connection. “Jack Hendon-of Hendon Shipping Lines?”

Kit nodded. “The very same. Why?”

“I own Trevission Ships. He’s a competitor.”

“Just wait until he hears. He’ll probably make you an offer.”

“I might just make one back,” Linnet said.

Kit hooted. “Oh, please make sure I’m there when that conversation takes place.”

There’d been a knock on the door. Demon and Wolverstone had gone to look out. Now Wolverstone turned back to the room. “Hamilton, Delborough. If you would-there’s a body here we need you to see if you can identify.”

Naturally, within two minutes, everyone was in the forecourt again, gathered around the hay cart. Everyone looked at the body; Royce had drawn down the tarpaulin, so they could all see the dagger. Glancing at the faces, Linnet noted that while each was deadly serious, not one had paled, let alone flinched.

Returning her gaze to the dead man’s graying face, she felt a sense of shared purpose, of people coming together in pursuit of a common goal. For the first time, felt a part of that whole. She’d been committed to helping Logan, but that had been personal. Now she, too, was a part of this group devoted to seeing justice done and the Black Cobra exposed.

Royce glanced at Delborough and Hamilton. “Any idea who he is?”

“He was an associate of Ferrar’s in Bombay, but I never knew his name.” Del glanced at Gareth. “Do you know?”

Gareth stared at the man for a long moment, then said, “Thurgood. Daniel Thurgood.” He looked up at the waiting faces. “He was a friend of Ferrar, one of his circle.”

“A close friend?” Tristan asked.

Gareth grimaced. “No closer than others I could name, at least in public. In private?” Gareth shrugged. “Who’s to know?”

“Indeed.” Royce looked at the dagger. “Same type of dagger, same style of blow-from very close. He was killed by someone he trusted implicitly.”

“And that someone is still out there,” Logan said.

Royce nodded. “We haven’t yet succeeded in beheading the Black Cobra. Whether they were a group of equals or a tiered hierarchy, the head, the real power, the most dangerous of these villains, is still at large.”

“And not far away,” Jack Warnefleet said.

Royce glanced around the circle. Many of the other men did, too. Despite the weak winter sun’s valiant attempts to break through the clouds, it was still chilly and cold, and they’d all come out without coats.

“Let’s go inside,” Royce said. “We can discuss this latest twist and hear Logan’s report in comfort. In the drawing room,” he added, as if to assure the ladies they would not be excluded.

Royce stepped back; all the other men shifted as if to fall in with his directive.

But not one of the ladies moved. Minerva flapped an absentminded hand. “Wait a minute.” She was studying Daniel Thurgood’s face. She nudged Letitia, beside her. “Is it just my imagination, or is there a resemblance to Ferrar?”

Letitia, who had also been staring at Thurgood’s face, slowly nodded. “It’s the bones-the browline, set of the eyes, the chin. Imagine him with Shrewton’s pale eyes and fairer hair and… he’s very like Ferrar.”

Clarice, beside Letitia, arched her brows. “For my money, he’s even more like Shrewton himself.”

Deverell frowned. “He-Thurgood-said something about being a bastard.” He glanced at Logan. “What did he say exactly?”

Linnet, beside Logan, answered. “When he broke his word-a word he’d sworn on his honor as a gentleman-and ordered his men to kill us, Logan prodded him about being a gentleman. Thurgood laughed and said he’d been born a bastard, and was simply living up to his birth.”

Everyone stared at the body. Royce murmured, “What if he’d meant the phrase ‘living up to his birth’ to mean behaving, not like a bastard, but like a Ferrar-one of Shrewton’s get?”

“That Shrewton sired bastards is common knowledge,” Clarice stated, “but their actual identity isn’t widely known. Given the resemblance, and I do think it’s strong, then Thurgood’s parting shot sounds like a typical piece of Ferrar arrogance.”

“Overweening, maliciously superior arrogance has been a hallmark of the Black Cobra cult from its inception,” Delborough said.

Everyone looked at Royce. Gaze locked on Thurgood’s body, face hardening, he slowly nodded. “I believe we should deliver this body, too, to the earl at Wymondham Hall.”

“Indeed,” Minerva said briskly. “You may proceed to do so after luncheon.” She looked at Charles, Deverell, Logan, and Linnet. “I assume you four missed breakfast, which means you must be famished.” Spreading her arms, Minerva gracefully waved everyone to the door. “Let’s go in, and I’ll have you shown to your rooms. You can wash and refresh yourselves, then we can all sit down to an early luncheon, and over the table we can learn the details of your adventures.” She met her husband’s eyes. “And add the recent revelations to all else we know, and see where we now stand.”

Minerva gestured again, and everyone obeyed, moving in orderly fashion back indoors.

Royce’s lips twisted wryly, then he turned to Demon. Del, Gareth, and Logan also hung back.

“I won’t stay,” Demon said. “If I don’t return to Somersham there’ll be hell to pay. I’ll carry this latest news”-with his head he indicated Thurgood’s body-“and the suspected connection to Devil and the others.”

Royce nodded. “Do.”

Demon saluted, stepped back. “We’ll be ready and waiting should you need us.”

Royce met his eyes. “Hold yourselves ready-I’ve a strong premonition I’m going to need you all before this mission ends.”

Demon nodded to the other three, then headed for his horse, took the reins, fluidly mounted, then, with another salute, rode away.

“They’re good men-the Cynsters,” Del said.

“Good fighters,” Gareth added.

“Good friends,” Logan echoed.

“Indeed.” Royce looked at Logan and smiled. “But you’d better get inside to be shown to your room, or my duchess will be displeased.”

That no one in the house would want Minerva to be displeased didn’t need to be stated.

Gareth tossed the tarpaulin back over Thurgood’s body. Leaving the cart in the forecourt, the four men went inside.

Half an hour later, they were all seated around the long table in the dining room. Linnet, in a pale blue gown Penny had loaned her, and Logan, as brushed and as neat as he could be, had been steered to chairs on either side of Wolverstone’s carver, so that when they spoke the whole table could hear.

They, Charles, and Deverell were allowed to assuage their appetites first, while the rest of the company nibbled and chatted about less consequential matters. Children, Logan noted, were a source of much comment.

“At least the nursery windows don’t overlook the forecourt,” Kit said. “If they realized there was a dead body in that cart, my eldest two would be clambering all over it.” She paused, then added, “Most likely pulling out the dagger, just to see.”

“Royce found them a set of tin soldiers,” Jack said. “I was up there earlier, checking on our two, and your eldest two, aided by a bevy of the others, I might add, were not even halfway through Waterloo-they’ll be engaged for hours yet.”

From various comments, Logan gathered that Minerva, she who must not be displeased, had taken advantage of the mission her husband had undertaken to invite all the families of the ex-comrades he’d drawn into the mission to spend Christmas there, at Elveden.

The house was, consequently, awash with young children. As each family had also brought nannies and governesses, the children were not much in evidence, not least because, as far as Logan could understand, the children were familiar with each other, and could be relied on to play together, albeit sometimes with less than desirable results.

He’d never been a part of such a gathering-one so openly relaxed and comfortable, with so many adults as well as children, all at ease with one another. He glanced at Linnet, across the table, and found her chatting with Alicia, who apparently also had older children, not hers, but brothers who were her wards. Even as he watched, Madeline and Gervase joined in. Madeline, too, was guardian of her younger half brothers, and Gervase had three younger sisters under his wing.

Letting his gaze wander the table, it seemed to Logan that every possible construction of “family” was represented, and all were happy and content. He noted Del and Gareth likewise watching, listening, taking it all in; they, like him, had yet to forge their families-this was what lay ahead for them.

As shining examples, he felt they couldn’t have found better.

These men were like them, warriors to the core, their ladies their equals in every way. As for the families they’d created… there was so much joy, so much pride in their faces as they talked of their children.