Night Shadow by Catherine Coulter

Author:Catherine Coulter [Catherine Coulter]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 0061130265
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 1989-09-23T04:00:00+00:00

NEAR WINTHROP HOUSE

LONDON

Knight was whistling. He felt marvelously drained, quite sated; all in all, very pleased with itself. Everything was set into motion now. It was just a matter of waiting. And keeping alert. Whistling always helped.

The only thing was, he thought, frowning as he recalled yet again his session with Janine, Lily’s hair was a richer, more variegated blond than Janine’s and it was softer. At least he thought so. He had touched Lily’s hair the evening he’d saved her from Ugly Arnold, then attacked her in the carriage. Whistle louder, he told himself, and think about other things.

Mr. Wheat, one of the Runners who had escorted Lily and the children to Castle Rosse, had dutifully reported to him. No sign of the men. All was well. Monk and Boy were nowhere near Castle Rosse. They had to be here in London.

That was a relief. He wondered when Monk and Boy would make their next move. They perforce had to make one. It was just a matter of time and opportunity, and for the past two days and nights, Knight had been giving them more than ample opportunity. Now he was walking alone, a perfect target.

He grinned. It obviously hadn’t occurred to Lily that he would have to be their target, since she’d left the scene. Otherwise he hadn’t a single doubt that she would have insisted upon somehow protecting him.

He saw a cloaked man turn out of a side street, pause for a moment beneath a light on the eastern corner of Portland Square, then nod politely toward Knight and continue on his way. Knight wanted to laugh aloud. That certainly wasn’t Monk or Boy. This gentleman was the epitome of civilization.

Knight began whistling again.

When the attack came, it was quick and quiet. Knight felt their presence rather than saw them, and was able to free his sword stick.

“Ah, ’tis the fancy governor, all right,” Monk said with great relish. Knight finally made him out in the shadows, crouched over and feinting back and forth as he tossed the gleaming silver stiletto from his right hand to his left and back again. “Circle ’im, Boy, but stay out of the way of ’is sticker.”

“Gentlemen,” Knight said loudly, all amiability, “finally you show yourselves. Why don’t you question me rather than try to cut out my innards?”

Knight saw Boy’s figure from the corner of his eye. He wasn’t a stealthful mover, thank the powers for small favors.

“Awright, ye fancy cove, ye tells us where the sparklers are and we’ll let yer innards stay in yer gut.”

“What sparklers are you referring to?”

“Tris’s fancy piece knows, oh, ah, she does. Ye tells us or she does, and we’ll find ’er, don’t ye doubt that.”

Tris’s fancy piece? Knight shook his head. “I repeat,” he continued, taking a quick step away from Boy’s outstretched arm. “What sparklers?”

“Billy’s Baubles, ’tis wot Tris called ’em,” Monk said. “It was this cove named Billy who ’ad these sparklers made in Paris for ’is little lady friend, a female sort named Charlotte.

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