Page 104 of The Secrets of Lord Grayson Child
“There he is.” Izzy slowed. “Climbing down from that first-class carriage ahead, behind the lady in the pink bonnet.”
The pink bonnet was easy to spot, and sure enough, Duvall stepped down to the platform just behind it. “And,” Gray observed, “he’s carrying a decent-sized briefcase. I think we can be sure what’s in it.”
They slowed, tacked, and settled to follow Duvall at a distance of ten or so yards, with several other people between them. Due to his height and his hat, he was easy to track.
Walking confidently, he headed directly up the platform to the exit to the town. Not once did he glance even briefly around; apparently, it hadn’t occurred to him that he might be followed.
Gray glanced back and confirmed that the others were coming along, but keeping their distance. Duvall would definitely recognize Hennessy, possibly Digby, and might even identify Baines and Littlejohn as policemen. There was something about their profession that marked them; most Londoners would know them on sight.
Facing forward, Gray steered Izzy into the thickening throng as the disembarking passengers funneled through the open gates onto the station concourse. Once past the constriction, they followed Duvall in turning away from the row of waiting hackneys and joining the stream of passengers walking up Clarence Place, toward the intersection with Snargate and the road to the town center.
By then, Gray and Izzy were more than ten yards behind Duvall with quite a crowd in between. As the line stretched out, Gray spotted Martin Cynster ahead, also behind Duvall. Walking beside Martin was another tall gentleman who, by his features, was also a Cynster.
The Cynster pair were striding along, chatting easily, apparently unaware Duvall was only a few yards ahead of them.
Did they know? Gray thought not.
He lengthened his pace; instinctively, Izzy matched his stride.
He felt her glance at him. Briefly, he met her gaze. “Those two gentlemen a few yards behind Duvall—can you see them?”
She had to weave slightly to see past others, then said, “One is Toby Cynster, and the other looks like another Cynster, but strangely, not one I know.”
“He’s Martin Cynster—the man whose fortune you were intending to expose.”
“Ah.” She studied the pair, now drawing nearer as Gray tacked around the intervening people. “He looks younger than I expected.”
“He’s twenty-four, and if his companion is Toby Cynster—who I understand is one of Drake’s occasional helpers—I think we can assume they’ve been sent by Drake to keep watch for Duvall.”
Izzy considered the duo, now four yards ahead. “I don’t think they know Duvall is just ahead of them.”
“No. Drake didn’t take a photograph, so he could have given them only a verbal description, and Duvall is wearing a hat.” He considered, then said, “Play along.”
He raised his voice and called, “Martin!” When, surprised, Martin glanced around, Gray smiled affably, but caught Martin’s gaze and held it. “Fancy running into you down here.”
Drake would have told Martin and Toby about those pursuing Duvall. Gray angled Izzy to the side of the path, out of the stream of people heading for the town.
Martin’s face cleared, and he smiled. “Lord Child!” He tugged Toby’s sleeve, and the pair stepped to the side, halted, and waited for Gray and Izzy to join them.
As they neared, Martin gestured to Toby. “Allow me to present my cousin, Toby Cynster.”
Halting before the pair, Izzy nodded to Toby and extended her hand to Martin. “Lady Isadora Descartes.”
While Martin bowed over her hand, Gray held out his to Toby. “Grayson Child.”
His easy expression belied by the active intelligence in his hazel eyes, Toby shook hands. “A pleasure, my lord. I’ve heard you’ve been sighted around town recently.” He inclined his head to Izzy. “Both of you.”
That seemed to confirm that Drake had filled the pair in. “Indeed.” Gray kept his expression mild and engaging. Lowering his voice, he said, “We weren’t sure if you were aware that the man ahead of you, the one with the black hat, was the gentleman you’ve been sent here to hunt.”
“He is?” Toby tensed, but stopped himself from glancing around. “He’s down here already?”
Martin glanced sidelong. “The man with the case?”
“Indeed.” Izzy smiled as if they were exchanging pleasantries. “That’s him, and we believe we can guess what’s inside the case.”
“Namely, explosives,” Gray said.
“Ah.” Toby’s expression blanked, and Martin suddenly looked grave.
