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whatever little I may to ensure his mission succeeds.”
    The mention of James reminded him that, in some respects, he now stood in James’s shoes, taking on a responsibility that originally had been James’s—seeing Miss Ensworth safely home.
    For a moment, he felt as if James’s ghost hovered in the room beside them—he could almost see his insouciant smile. James had died a hero. He’d been dashing and handsome, a few years older than Miss Ensworth—hardly surprising if, in the circumstances, she harbored some romantic feelings for his dead friend.
    He wondered if that was what he saw in her eyes.
    Somewhat abruptly, he stood. “I must check with the others about setting a watch—we can’t be too careful. I’ll see you at dinner.”
    She inclined her head. “We’ll need to decide how best to journey on.”
    “I’ll check what our options are tomorrow. I’ll tell you once I know.” He headed for the door.
    “Excellent—we can discuss it in the morning.”
    In the doorway, he looked back, then nodded. “In the morning.”
    He strode down the corridor, a sense of relief returning. She’d agreed to travel on together. He’d be able to keep her safe. That was the critical point. The instant he’d seen the cultist making for her on the dock, he’d known he’d have to keep her with him, almost certainly all the way back to England, until he could leave her somewhere the cult couldn’t reach her.
    The responsibility wasn’t one he could possibly shirk. Quite aside from all else, honor wouldn’t allow it. She’dbecome a target for the Black Cobra through helping with their mission, and he and his comrades, James included, owed her a huge debt. If she hadn’t played her part and brought the letter to Del, they would still be chasing cultists through the Indian countryside, and the Black Cobra would be continuing his reign of terror and destruction unabated.
    Instead, thanks in large part to Emily Ensworth, the Black Cobra was now chasing them.
    All they had to do was keep one step ahead of the fiend’s minions all the way back to England, and all would be well.

Two
    3rd October, 1822
Morning
A private guesthouse in Aden’s Arab quarter
    Dear Diary,
    I was too distracted to write last night. I suspect that while traveling, the time of my entries may vary due to whatever exigencies might arise. But to my news! First and most importantly, I’ve learned that Major Hamilton is innocent of any degree of cowardice in returning home—indeed, he is on a mission to vanquish the Black Cobra, and by extension avenge his friend, MacFarlane. I had felt that the major could not be cowardly—how could he be my “one” and be so?—but I freely admit I had no idea of the level of noble enterprise on which he and his friends have embarked. It is truly humbling, and I am delighted to report that, by a twist of fate, it appears I, too, will be able to play a part. Thus the second half of my news—we are to combine our parties and travel on together!
    While I must admit I am not at all keen to meet any further cultists—they are fanatics and quite mad—I do feel moved to do whatever I may to avenge poor MacFarlane given he was, after all, there to be killed because he was escorting me. However, my primary consideration in agreeing to Hamilton’s request to join forces is more prosaic—what if I declined, and something happened to him? Something I might have, had I been with him, prevented?
    No. Now that I know he is no coward—in fact, quite the opposite—and the opportunity to aid him has come my way, if, as I ever more strongly suspect given the sensory turmoil he continues to evoke in me, he is my “one,” then it is clearly incumbent upon me to continue by his side.
    That said, I am writing this this morning as I discover I have time on my hands. I rose fresh and rested, and emerged from my chamber ready to discuss our onward journey, as I believed we’d arranged, only to discover he had already quit