Come the Dawn (43 page)

“You think so? Does it take gold to buy the loyalty of these men who bear the scar on their wrist?”

“Very astute, Thornwood, as was your masquerade with James Herrington. You outmaneuvered us again with the exchange of the little brat in Hyde Park. But in the end it does not matter. Our cause will
still
triumph.”

Thornwood laughed coldly. “While the emperor is in exile at St. Helena?”

“Not for long,” Stevens said fiercely. “We already have two cabinet ministers favorable to our cause. Fox and Wilcox are entirely committed. Not all are in awe of your sainted Wellington, you see.”

Devlyn hid his shock. How could these madmen have possibly garnered support at such high levels? His expression did not change, however, as he studied Wellington’s aide. “And what plans do you have for the Great Man? Is he too to be sacrificed for your great and honorable cause?”

“There have already been a number of attempts on his life. L’Aurore shall simply complete what the other malcontents have not been able to do. Soon all England will resound with our name, and Paris will throw open its doors to welcome its heroes home.”

Thornwood looked at Stevens and realized he was looking into the eyes of a madman. No amount of arguing would change the man’s mind by one whit. Thorne’s only hope was to escape from the carriage. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a silver shape loping over the hill in an easy pace parallel to the carriage.

Luna! Had India somehow grown suspicious and sent the wolf after him?

Something exploded against the top of the carriage, making Stevens sit forward and curse.

Thornwood smiled at the man training the pistol on his chest. “They are closing in, Stevens. Do you hear that?” Another sandbag hit the carriage, rocking the frame. “Whatever plans you have are finished.”

“Hardly. A tragic carriage accident is in store for you, Thornwood. I understand there is a bridge out somewhere in the area. Most unfortunate, given your recent reconciliation. But then these are dangerous times,” he said, smiling thinly. “Of course there’s no need to try shouting to the coachman. He is one of
our
men, entirely loyal. You will find no help from him.”

Out the carriage window, high above the treetops, Devlyn caught a glimpse of bright red silk. Only with great effort did he keep a smile from his face at the thought of India flying overhead, aloft in the hot air balloon. Now the rest was up to him.

He looked at Stevens and shrugged. “It appears you have thought of every possibility, Stevens. I must applaud you. But we might still strike a bargain. If I give you the diamond, you can count on me to keep my mouth shut. There is no necessity for murder. Assuming you would succeed, of course.”

His captor laughed coldly. “You don’t convince me for a second, Thornwood. You would never keep your mouth shut. You are too much a man of honor, though you chose to hide it from the world. Now give me the diamond. There is no need to drag this out.”

Thornwood cursed and bent down to his boot. Slowly he drew out the huge diamond called l’Aurore.

When Stevens sat forward, eyes narrowed with greed, Devlyn cast the diamond with all his might against the far wall of the carriage and then flung himself backward, jamming open the door and pushing toward the ground.

But he got only halfway. Lips curled, Stevens seized his legs and held him blindly. “You’ll not escape me
now,
damn you!”

Outside there was a low growl. Without warning a powerful gray form hurtled through the open carriage door and slammed against Stevens’s chest. Growling, India’s wolf knocked the pistol free and drove Stevens to the carriage floor.

“Get the creature off! It’ll tear out my throat!”

Devlyn wondered whether it might be true. He had never seen Luna so fierce before.

But there was no time to think. Another sandbag hit the carriage as the great wolf turned and shoved hard at Dev’s shoulder, forcing him over the edge of the door toward the ground.

To his death?

The next moment Devlyn spun backwards. Head over heels, he crashed down blindly against the ground.

He was still shaking, his vision blurred, when he saw Stevens appear in the carriage door. Wellington’s aide fired one desperate shot, which went wild and hissed through a nearby hedgerow.

And then Devlyn’s eyes narrowed as he realized exactly where the carriage was headed. Due south was a sharp rise, and beyond that lay the river.

There was no time to warn Stevens or the coachman. The horses pounded on, straining up the rise, unable to see what lay before them, where the road gave way to the deadly space of a washed-out bridge.

Time seemed to hang suspended as Stevens disappeared, no doubt to search for the lost diamond.

And then he reappeared in the window.

Dev had one brief glimpse of his terrified face before the carriage sailed forward out of sight and exploded against the rocky bank far below.

~ ~ ~

 “She knew.” Dev stood on the riverbank, cradling his arm as he stared down at the shattered chaos of the carnage. “Somehow Luna knew.”

India had landed in a whoosh of silk and now the two stood hand in hand overlooking the river and the carnage below. At their feet Luna sat expectantly, well pleased as Thorne stroked her velvet fur.

“She tried to shove me from the carriage. At first I thought she had turned wild and was trying to kill me.” He shook his head. “But she knew. She saved my life. Or
you
did, by sending her.”

“You’re very good, my precious,” India whispered, and at her words both Luna and Thorne looked up. The similarity of their expressions made India laugh.

She threw her arms around both of them. “Thank God you’re safe, Dev. Something about that message coming so abruptly left me suspicious.”

Thorne cursed. “Stevens got a shot at Ian. He fell from his horse several miles back. Do you think that balloon could take us—” The drum of hoofbeats drowned out his words.

“Don’t move a step,
either
of you! I’ve barely got Ian in tow, and I don’t intend to lose you know.” The two turned to see the Duchess of Cranford’s carriage careening over the hill. At the river’s edge the door was thrown open and India’s grandmother descended imperiously, silver cane in hand. “There you are! I was wondering what was keeping you.” When she saw the remains of the shattered carriage, she shook her head. “My granddaughter was right to be worried about you, Thornwood. I hope you know that you owe her your life.”

“I’ve just been telling her the same thing,” Dev said. “I was on the verge of asking what I could do to repay her.”

“I’ll answer that question for her, you young jackanapes! You can marry India in Swallow Hill’s chapel, with all the countryside to look on, the way it should have been done the first time! She’ll wear her mother’s antique wedding gown and carry a bouquet of my finest roses in her hands when you do it, too.” The duchess struck the ground with her cane. “And if I hear even one tiny sound of protest from you, I’ll—”

Thornwood’s brow rose haughtily. “If you don’t mind, Your Grace, I prefer to do my own proposing.” He turned to India and slid his good arm around her waist. “It’s late in coming, but I beg you will have me for good, my love. We’ll do it right this time, too.” The earl awkwardly maneuvered down onto one knee, ignoring the pain where Stevens’s bullet had gored his arm. “I’ll be the devil’s own husband and I suspect you’ll be an equal sort of wife, but I think together we might make a fair job of it. Perhaps between us we can even tame those children and give them some of the joy their lives have been missing for so long.”

Tears filled India’s eyes. She thought of another child who had missed this happiness, and as they stood in the clearing, the sun pouring golden over their shoulders, she thought she felt a warm, laughing presence nearby. “Of course I’ll marry you again, you silly great thing. But for no other reason than to keep you from reverting to your terrible ways as a river pirate.”

“And what about
you,
storming through London dressed in men’s clothing? A walking invitation to every footpad and larcenist in Whitechapel, if I ever saw one!” Thorne swayed for a minute, fighting a stab of pain. “But you’ll really have me? For good this time? There’ll be no more marching off to war and no more of me being called away on dangerous missions. The only missions I mean to accept in the future are rescuing Alexis from the top of the apple tree, or perhaps that great silver wolf of yours from some angry villager.”

“My answer is yes,” India said huskily. “Just as it has always been.” She frowned. “Dev?”

“So glad,” Thorne said unsteadily. “So very glad … to hear it…”

And then he collapsed in a heap at her feet.

MacKinnon was just making his way toward them, wobbly-kneed after his balloon ride, and Ian, his leg covered by a strip of linen, was climbing stiffly from the duchess’s carriage. The old woman eyed both men with disfavor. “Isn’t that just to be expected,” she muttered. “MacKinnon is white as a ghost and Ian refuses to stay put in the carriage, though he can barely walk. Now
your
husband passes out cold at your feet, India.” She shook her head in disgust. “Men! Utterly no use when a woman needs them most. See you remember that, gel.”

And then a faraway look entered the duchess’s eyes, making her smile faintly. “Of course, I have found there are a
few
things that they can do passably well.”

On the following day the duchess had lined her patients up in Luc’s old bedroom in three camp beds ranged against the wall. From her campaign position in a large wing chair by the window she dispensed broth, noxious herbal brews, and evil-smelling poultices along with general hygienic advice. Luc and his wife, Silver, had traveled up from London as soon as they heard the news and were watching the duchess’s campaign with vast enjoyment. At least this gave Silver some freedom, for usually the duchess made her a prime target, ordering strengthening broths, brisk walks, and an array of other exotic remedies for what the duchess called the rigors of motherhood.

Never mind that Luc’s wife was clearly in glowing health and strong as an ox.

That very morning the so estimable lords Pendleworth and Monkton had also arrived from London looking relieved to see their friend safe. They, too, were enjoying the sight of three brawny men, Ian, Connor, and Thornwood, held captive under the iron fist of one fragile and diminutive old woman.

“I rather think Connor’s too pale, don’t you, Grandmama?” Luc stood grinning, one shoulder propped against the mantel as he studied his friend, confined to bed with the other two. “I’m afraid that jaunt on the hot air balloon has overtaxed him more than he lets on.”

“You men,” said the duchess. “More trouble than you’re worth most of the time.” She gestured to the butler. “Beach?”

“Yes, Your Grace?”

“Fetch me that jar from the side table, if you please.” Well armed, the duchess moved off to Connor’s bedside. “Open your mouth and take your medicine like a man,” she ordered.

A look of revulsion filled MacKinnon’s face as he stared down at the clotted brown concoction. “But truly, Your Grace, I am fine. It was merely a temporary bout of dizziness from the flight.”

“I won’t hear of it. You’ve been looking pallid for hours, and this calf’s foot jelly is just the restorative you need. Don’t go cowardly before all these spectators.”

Scowling, Connor opened his mouth and swallowed the appallingly distasteful remedy.

“Excellent.” The duchess turned to choose her next victim. “Now it will be your turn, Ian. That wound at your thigh has been coming along nicely, but you haven’t been eating enough.” Never mind that her strapping grandson had just consumed three rashers of bacon, half a loaf of bread, and two of Cook’s best plum tarts.

But Ian knew it was no use to argue when his grandmother was in one of her managing moods. “Very well, Grandmama,” he said, opening his mouth and swallowing with an audible clenching of teeth.

Now it was to be Thorne’s turn. “Bring that jar over here, Alexis, my child. It is time for your uncle Thorne to have his medicine,” she said briskly.

The little girl promptly obeyed the duchess’s directive, her eyes wide with wonder at the sight of the three very large men molded like clay in the hands of one old woman.

Thorne eyed the jar mutinously. His arm was paining him a great deal, though he refused to acknowledge it and now he was experiencing the flush of a slight fever. “I won’t have any more of that potion today. You’ve already forced it three times down my gullet.”

Alexis’s eyes grew even rounder.

But the duchess only laughed and stamped her cane against the floor. “Here’s a man with spunk. I like that, so I do. You’ll make a fine match for my granddaughter, Thornwood. But
first
you’re going to finish every bit of this restorative jelly. Then if you’re very good, I’ll let you have some of the garlic paste I’ve made for you.”

Thorne’s brow furrowed. But he saw India’s pleading look and bit back a curt comment, swallowing the distasteful mix obediently while his friends Pendleworth and Monkton tried to hold back their laughter.

It was at this point that Alexis set her battered doll on the bed beside Thornwood. “Uncle Thorne, in all the excitement, I nearly forgot. I have something very important to tell you!” She looked at the duchess questioningly. “May I, Your Grace?”

“Of course, my child. I’m sure your uncle is in need of some distraction. His temper is lamentably surly of late,” she murmured.

The old woman’s knees were aching, her hands were stiff, but she was enjoying herself more than she had for months.

Alexis turned breathlessly and tugged at the doll’s shoes. “It all happened when Josephine fell down the stairs this morning,” she explained. “One of her legs came off and I discovered she was hollow inside.” Her excitement rose as she tossed off the doll’s, tattered gown and pinafore, revealing a battered wooden body beneath. “And then I found the rest of her was hollow too. When I looked inside, I found the most amazing thing.” With a quick yank, the girl pulled off one of the doll’s legs and shook the body over Thorne’s lap. “Do you see now, Uncle Thorne?”

A gray tangle landed on the coverlet, and then two more. Thorne looked up, one brow crooked. “You mean these lumps of dirty cloth?”

“More than that. Open one of them!” Alexis was fairly dancing with excitement now.

Slowly Thorne picked apart the tangle and opened one of the frayed lengths of cloth. And then he caught a sharp breath.

A dozen glinting jewels lay shining on the satin coverlet.

Several were at least as big as l’Aurore.

“At first I didn’t understand what they were,” Alexis said breathlessly. “Then it began to make sense. I finally remembered about that night in Brussels.” The girl’s eyes clouded for a moment, but she resolutely raised her chin. “That night my parents died, my father had just given me something to hide inside Josephine, when there was a hammering at the door. He seemed very anxious and said I was never to tell anyone, that our lives depended on my keeping the secret. Then he sent me off with Andrew and Marianne to hide in a secret room. But first he told me he knew I would be a good soldier. And I
was,”
she said fiercely. “I never told a single soul. Not until now.” She gnawed at her lip for a moment. “Of course, I did forget for a great while and I’m sorry for that. But now I’ve remembered and here are the jewels all safe again, just as my father wished.”

Dev stared down in disbelief as one after another of the frayed rags came open to reveal an array of jewels long hidden in the old doll. A king’s ransom, they were.

Or an
emperor’s
ransom.

Ian gave a long, low whistle. “So that’s where they were hidden all this time. I think you’re quite extraordinary, Alexis.”

The little girl beamed. Her brother and sister crowded close, staring at the jewels in awe while Thornwood picked up one of the gems and studied it closely. “Unless I miss my guess, these are Napoleon’s lost hoard, each one as priceless as that pink diamond we found clutched in Stevens’s hands in the shattered carriage.” His face went grim for a moment. “We examined the rest of the pieces he had brought in, but they were fakes. Only l’Aurore was real, which explains why he went to such trouble to recapture it. Without that one, he could never have hoodwinked a jeweler into buying the rest, and his plan was nothing but a wild bluff. But here are the real ones, hidden inside Josephine all this time’. It was your father’s final act of bravery to manage to switch the real jewels with the false ones, Alexis. If only we’d known…” Dev smiled at the girl. “He was a very courageous man.” He squeezed Alexis’s hand tightly. “And he would be very proud of you right now.”

“He is,” the girl said softly.

Not was, but
is.

India looked at Alexis and understood. She was glad the little girl had such a gift to give her comfort after all the losses in her life.

“L’Aurore is dead,” Thorne said gravely. “Thank God we’ve seen the last of that crew of madmen.”

“Good lord, Thorne, never tell me
this
is what you’ve been chasing down since your return to London.” Pendleworth shook his head, staring at the treasure trove of jewels. “Been deceiving us all the time! It’s the outside of enough when a man don’t tell his best friends what he’s up to.”

“But all that is about to change,” the duchess said firmly. “Remove these jewels, if you please, Beach. We have more
important
matters to discuss now.” In one stroke she consigned months of an important English campaign to utter obscurity. “You may store them in that Sevres teapot on the mantel. It was a gift from my late husband’s mother, and a more ugly piece of porcelain I have yet to see.”

Without the slightest quiver of a smile, Beach swept up the priceless gems as if they were glass and disposed of them as directed. The duchess, meanwhile, continued without a pause. “I’ve been trying to find a date for your wedding, India. I expect you both will wish to make it soon, even though you are already married.”

“Already
what?”
Ian, Luc, and Pendleworth spoke in tandem.

The duchess smiled from her wing chair, delighted with her explosive revelation. “Unfortunately, there might be some difficulty in finding a day. There are endless arrangements to be made, flowers to be organized, and invitations to issue. I shall have to contact those footloose parents of yours, too, India. They are somewhere between Greece and Cairo, I believe, which is not altogether a great deal of help. It will probably take six months for them to come home.”

Devlyn scowled. “If you think I’m waiting
six months—”

The duchess cut in smoothly. “Of course, that might be a trifle too long. Let me see now.” She picked up a little leather-bound book and frowned down at a crowded page. “Possibly
here.”
Then she shook her head. “No, I’m afraid that is a Tuesday, which presents a problem for Beach.”