A Rogues Proposal (Cynster 4)

"Bury St. Edmunds?" Dillon frowned at Flick, then slumped into the chair at the head of the old table. "Why there?"

Flick pulled up a stool, waving Gillies to the other, wishing he was his master instead. "We were hoping you might have some clue. Obviously not."

Dillon shook his head, his expression one of patent bewilderment. "I wouldn't have thought there was any possible attraction in Bury, not for the likes of Bletchley."

"So," Flick stated, her tone businesslike, "we'll need to go to Bury and find out what the attraction' is. Like you, I can't see any reason Bletchley would have gone there, other than to meet with his masters."

Gillies, who'd been listening carefully, and even more carefully sizing up Dillon, cleared his throat. "There's a prizefight on in Bury St. Edmunds tomorrow morning. That's almost certainly why Bletchley's hied off there. The reigning champion of all England is to take the ring against the latest challenger."

"Really?" Dillon's lassitude fell away-he was suddenly all eager youth.

"A prizefight," Flick breathed, in the tone of one for whom a light has dawned.

Frowning, Gillies looked from one to the other. "Aye-so there'll be all manner of bucks and bloods and dangerous blades up from London-the town'll be fair crawling with them."

"Damn!" Dillon sat back, a frown in his eyes.

Gillies heaved a sigh of relief.

"Fancy a prizefight so close and I daren't show my face." Dillon grimaced and looked at Flick, clearly inviting her sympathy.

She wasn't looking at him. Grinning, her face alight, she slapped the table. "That's it!"

Gillies jumped. "What's it?"

"The prizefight, of course! It's the perfect venue for Bletchley to meet with his masters." Triumph in her eyes, she spread her hands. "It's obvious-members of the syndicate can come up from London and meet with Bletchley without in any way stepping out of their normal roles, their normal pastimes, the places they would normally be found. A prizefight is perfect."

Gillies paled. "No-I don't-

"You know," Dillon cut in, "you just might be right."

"Of course I'm right." Flick set her riding gloves on the table. "Now we need to work out how to keep an eye on Bletch

ley at Bury, given there's only me and Gillies to keep watch."

Both Flick and Dillon frowned; Gillies stared at them in patent dismay. "The master won't want you going to any prizefight." He made the statement to Flick, then looked at Dillon.

Dillon wrinkled his nose. "It'll be tricky, but the prizefight must be the venue for Bletchley to meet his masters. Someone's got to watch him."

Gillies dragged in a breath. "I'll go."

Dillon regarded Gillies, then grimaced. "Without belittling your skills, Gillies, it's damned difficult for one person to keep a full-time watch on a target in a crowd."

"Indeed." Flick frowned. "And besides, what if the meeting is held upstairs at the inn, in a private room? I can go upstairs." She turned to Gillies. "You can't."

"Well," Dillon put in, "you won't be able to either, not if you're disguised as a stable lad."

"I'm not going disguised as a lad."

Dillon and Gillies stared at Flick-Dillon with interest, Gillies with trepidation. Flick smiled determinedly. "I'm going as a widow-I have to be able to get a room to stay the night.",

"The night?" Dillon queried. Gillies simply stared.

"Most spectators from London will arrive this evening, won't they?" Flick glanced at Gillies.

"Aye." His voice was weak.

"Well, then-if a meeting is to be held, it could be held either tonight or tomorrow-which would probably mean after the fight." Flick frowned. "If I was doing the organizing, I'd hold the meeting tonight. There's bound to be groups gathering to while away the evening-another group meeting in a private parlor would cause no comment. But if they meet tomorrow, after the fight, it'll seem rather odd, won't it?" She glanced at Gillies. "I imagine most of the Londoners will leave from the field?"