Come the Dawn (14 page)

Dawn had barely broken over the murky swells of the Thames when twelve grim men assembled at the residence of the hero of Waterloo. Even now, months after the battle, the Duke of Wellington was every inch the commanding general, and the men gathered soberly in the quiet drawing room recognized him as such.

The tall, hook-nosed officer began without preamble. “You are all aware of the unsettled situation in Europe. Even now there are many who wish their emperor” — Wellington said the word scornfully — “to be returned to his former glory. It is our job, gentlemen, to see that that does
not
happen.” His sharp eyes bored into the grim faces. “You may recall that on the night of 15 September, 1792, the French treasury was ransacked. Over the course of several evenings a band of thieves went back and forth along the roofs and by the time the theft was discovered, the Garde-Meubles National on the Place de la Concorde was nearly empty. Of eight thousand diamonds that had been in the treasury, not a single diamond was left. Only fifteen hundred have
ever
been recovered. It is said by many that those jewels were stolen by the order of Napoleon himself. Some he arranged to be “rediscovered,” and come legitimately into his public use, but we have reason to believe that the greater part of the remaining stones entered Napoleon’s private coffers. On several occasions these gems were seen to be loaded into an iron-bound chest that accompanied him everywhere on campaign — along with his beloved Cologne water,” Wellington said with a sniff.

“Though we made every inquiry, this chest was never found, neither before Waterloo, nor in the months following. I do not need to remind you that there are many who support Napoleon even in England. Reports lead us to suspect that the jewels have been shipped here to our shores, where they will be used to raise political support for freeing Napoleon from St. Helena. Even Lord Holland has mentioned his dislike of the treatment of Napoleon and now there are wild stories that the British governor of St. Helena has attempted to poison the Corsican. Absurd, of course, but public opinion has already been swayed. Should this clever campaign continue, Napoleon’s supporters may be able to negotiate his freedom. And who are these men? They are a shadowy group who call themselves l’Aurore, or ‘the dawn.’ No doubt, they compare their general’s release to the dawning of a new age. Those of us at Waterloo know it would be not a dawn but a harsh and blood-red sunset. But they are clever and capable, these men, and with those diamonds to finance them they might well succeed in their plot.”

There was a rush of shocked breaths as Wellington continued. “We must not let that happen, gentlemen. We
will
not let it happen. Too many lives have already been lost to this tyrant. That case of jewels must be
found.
Meanwhile, no one beyond this room is to know of our task,
no one at all.
There are too many details that have escaped already.”

The duke moved to the large table at the end of the room and pulled open a parchment map, which sported three large arrows. “These are the areas where the jewels are most likely to be brought in, conveyed by the usual smugglers and malcontents.” Wellington looked at one of the men. “Torrington, you will take this area. Report to me as soon as you have news. But for God’s sake, do it discreetly and give no one reason to suspect what it is you’re looking for. Otherwise, we’ll be besieged by a hundred false reports of lost French diamonds.”

Wellington moved to the other side of the map and continued briskly. “Wilmot, you’ll take this area. And utter discretion, I remind you. Delamere?” he said to the quiet man at the far end of the table.

The tall officer with the broad shoulders waited expectantly.

Wellington tapped the third arrow. “You’ll take this area in Norfolk. Home terrain should be easier for you. Don’t overlook any clue, even if it means dealing with the most unsavory types. As a matter of fact, they are the most likely to have news of these wretched jewels.”

Ian Delamere nodded. The sleepy look had left his gray eyes.

Wellington snapped the map together and used it to tap the table forcefully. “Everything depends on us, gentlemen. We must find those jewels, or we will face more bloodshed and chaos. That is something I pray we may avoid. Notify me of your progress.”

The duke turned to the window, his back toward the room, as the men filed out silently. Even after the last had left, he did not turn, his eyes locked on the street.

Then a door on the far wall opened. A man in a caped greatcoat entered, his head hidden by a chapeau bras. He did not speak, but his light step brought Wellington about.

The duke’s eyes narrowed. “Who the devil are you? What do you—” Abruptly, his mouth twitched in the beginnings of a smile. “I should have known. But that hat is quite repellent, Thorne.” He took a step forward. “It
is
you, is it not?”

At these words, Wellington’s visitor pulled off his hat and stripped away his cloak. His face was angular and bronze, full of extraordinary power. It was a face that would have neared classical perfection had it not been for the scar atop his jaw and the lines of tension carved into his brow.

“Indeed.” Wellington shook his head. “You do enjoy taking risks, Thorne.”

“But of course,” the man with the shrewd silver eyes said, easing back the black eye patch that had concealed a good deal of his face. “After all, it wouldn’t do for me to be seen frequenting your residence.”

Wellington laughed grimly. “That’s true enough. Your memory is gone, I believe, and you’ve left soldiering behind.” He poured a glass of port, which he offered to his guest.

Their eyes met, grim and determined.

“What news brings you?”

Devlyn Carlisle, frowning, turned the fine crystal tumbler. “There is talk along the docks about a cache of amazing jewels that will soon enter England via the Thames. And not just any jewels, Your Grace. Of course, they will never be put up for public auction. Their sale will be handled in secrecy, and only select men will be invited to offer a bid.”

Wellington frowned. “By that, you mean only those who know not to ask any questions.”

“Just so.”

“It’s a damnable business! Of course they
must
be the lost French Crown diamonds!” Wellington began to pace the room. “But where, Thorne? And when?”

“I cannot say. Whoever is behind this has been devilishly closemouthed. But any cargo coming in or out of London via the Thames falls within my domain and I’ll hear of them sooner or later. You’ve put men on the other possible areas?”

Wellington nodded. “You don’t believe they will come in from Norfolk or the Isle of Wight, then?”

“It would be more difficult to move them overland in secrecy, but not impossible. Still, some intuition tells me they will come by water. Remember, these men called l’Aurore are pressed for time and the public is fickle. Should they wait too long, their cause will no longer be fashionable.”

“If that madman raises money for another army, France will be thrown into chaos. We might soon be looking at another Waterloo.”

Thorne’s eyes hardened as he finished his port, then set the crystal sharply onto the table. “Not if I can help it. I’ve died
once.
I don’t intend to die again. I have affairs of my own that I must attend to. Carlisle Hall is nearly derelict, and—” He bit back his words. “I know how important this is to England, but I don’t relish seeing my ancestral home in Norfolk fall to ruin in the process.”

“Two more weeks, Thornwood, that’s all I ask.” Wellington looked at his visitor. “I must return to the Continent, and by then it may well be too late for
any
of our clever schemes.”

“Very well. Two weeks to succeed or fail.” The earl held up his glass. “A toast to our success, then, and to the confusion of our enemies.”

The tumblers met with a clink and both men drank deeply. In that moment their eyes were hard with memories of gunpowder and blood and the mud churned up by a hundred thousand marching feet.

Thornwood was the first to clear his voice. “May I offer my felicitations on your impressive appearance at Lady Jersey’s recent ball?”

Wellington’s brows rose in a frown. “What do you know of that?”

Thorne bowed low, a gesture filled with a hint of self-mockery. “Do you not recall the graceless old dowager seated next to you at the end of the evening? You spoke of poultry farming in Sussex, I believe, and the difficulties of provisioning troops on the march.”

“Good heavens, man, do you mean that
was you?”

“None other. It was most amusing. Even Ian Delamere didn’t recognize me.” Thorne’s mouth curved in a grin. “I suppose the veil helped.”

“You go beyond the line, Thorne. What if you had been discovered?” Wellington shook his head. “You would have destroyed all our work.”

“Ah, but I wasn’t discovered, and I made it my business to acquire a great deal of useful gossip that night. I now know exactly who is in the market for singular jewels — and whose sentiments toward the French might be more than warm.”

“You found that out in one night? I wish I might know your methods.”

“Nothing simpler. Just by listening, Your Grace. It is amazing how much people will say to an old woman whom they think slightly deaf and more than a little senile.”

“And you still refuse to tell me where you are staying now that Herrington has moved into Thornwood House?”

Thorne’s eyes darkened. “You wouldn’t wish to know, Your Grace. Let us just say that I am … not what I appear.”

Wellington sniffed, half in disapproval, half in admiration. “You always were a man who went his own way. You worked alone in Spain, as I recall. Damned good with disguises, too.”

Devlyn Carlisle’s smile faded. “I’ve had to be.” He stared down at the dusty greatcoat, thinking about his unhappy youth, his uncaring mother, and his inflexible father. He had learned young to hide his emotions and conceal his true hopes from the world. As he’d grown older, the act became second nature as he’d watched his reckless and profligate father let the estate fall to ruin. All the family’s financial stability had come from Thorne and his planning, though the world had no idea of that. For years he had played a role, feigning lazy nonchalance and every fashionable vice. And he had always succeeded in the masquerade.

Right up until the day he’d met a woman with flame-red hair and probing eyes. In a matter of minutes India Delamere had seen right through his facade of boredom.

“And what of Lady India? She bore the news of your death badly, I fear. But it will not do to see her until this business is over, Thorne. She would soon recognize Herrington as the masquerader he is.” Wellington’s eyes narrowed. “You do understand that.”

Thornwood shrugged. “The lady will get over me soon enough. She has infinite resources at her disposal, given her scores of admirers.”

“She is to marry, you know.” Wellington spoke the words with utter casualness, though his eyes were keen on his officer’s face.

Thorne’s fingers tightened. “Longborough?”

“So everyone says. She does not look like a woman in love to me, however.”

“What has
love
to do with it? It would be an alignment between two fine houses,” Thorne said coldly. “That is one of the things we English do best, after all.” He shrugged. “I wish them well of each other. He is a mercenary opportunist and she has been spoiled by having too many men dancing in attendance. The two should suit admirably,” he growled.

Wellington looked as if he would speak, but his visitor was already reaching for his greatcoat. “I must take my leave. My little band will be growing restless.”

“Keep me informed. Be careful, but be swift, Thornwood. We haven’t much time left. Two weeks is my guess.”