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Chapter 92

Soft music drifted from inside, followed by the low murmur of voices as the door was pulled open. A woman with straw-colored hair and freckles across her nose that made her look younger than her obvious forty-plus years greeted them, her brown eyes going wide as soon as she saw Edmund

“Mr. Rowley.” Her voice was heavily accented; she was a New Yorker, through and through. “Are you here for the meeting?”

“Now, Carys, would I be here for any other reason?”

Some of the voices had hushed behind Carys as soon as she’d said his name, but Darby squelched the urge to peer past his arm to see inside. Carys glanced back and immediately stepped aside as a large black man, almost as tall as Edmund though whipcord thin, took her place.

“This is not an open meeting, Edmund,” he said. “And you are not on the agenda.”