Come the Dawn (42 page)

Devlyn’s eyes hardened. “So it’s not finished after all.”

“I’m afraid not, Lord Thornwood.” Stevens drew the pistol from beneath his cloak and trained it on the earl’s chest. “Not finished at all.”

A moment later a gun cracked harshly. But the carriage raced on, heading relentlessly toward London and the carefully planned assassination that would mark the beginning of a new dawn.

~ ~ ~

 “Did you hear that?” India frowned out at the green hills, watching a hot air balloon bob up and down. Its red and blue silk canopy was half filled in preparation for the afternoon ride Thorne had arranged for his three wards. Outside India could see the amiable Mr. Smithson checking the ballast and securing lines.

“Hear what?” her brother said, finishing off a second slice of Cook’s best caraway cake.

India frowned. “Something that sounded like a pistol.”

“Love has gone to her head,” Ian muttered, shaking his head in a great display of sadness. “Such a pity, too, since she used to be
so
levelheaded.”

“No, I’m serious, Ian. I heard something, and it was coming from down the hill. Down the hill toward Devlyn’s carriage.” India’s eyes followed the carriage fast disappearing into the trees at the foot of Swallow Hill’s broad lawns. “I hope Dev remembers about the problem with the bridge.”

“It’s well marked.”

“The sign might be gone. Or the coachman might not notice.”

“It
must
be love,” her brother muttered. “Thorne’s barely gone two minutes and already the woman imagines a thousand kinds of danger.” Then he frowned. “You’re not serious, are you? You don’t really think there’s something wrong?”

India pushed to her feet and moved restlessly about the room, straightening a picture frame and then a pair of Chinese porcelain vases. “I don’t know, Ian. Maybe it’s just my imagination, but something is worrying me about that sound I heard.”

“If it’s bothering you, I’ll ride after them. It will be easy enough.”

“Would you, Ian? I know I’m acting like a silly goose, but—” She sighed. “Would you mind terribly?”

Her brother ruffled her hair. “Not at all, hoyden. Maybe now you’ll finally consider the debt repaid for my tossing you into the pond.”

~ ~ ~

Out in Swallow Hill’s beautiful rose garden. Lady Marchmont toyed with a spray of crimson roses, trying to hold a one-sided conversation with Alexis. “It is very pleasant to see you safe again, my dear.”

Alexis simply nodded, her hands tight on her battered doll.

“You seem to be very happy here.”

Another nod.

“Alexis, it would help a great deal if you would look at me.”

The little girl’s head rose slowly. “Very well,” she said softly.

“That’s better. I don’t suppose you remember anything about your kidnapping, do you? Anything about the people who took you or the place where you were held?”

Alexis shook her head. Her hands clenched her doll. Lady Marchmont reached out suddenly, intent on the old battered toy, but Alexis pushed to her feet and shrank away. “Don’t touch Josephine! And don’t touch me. I’m frightened of you. Can’t you see them?”

“See whom?”

“The gray people, of course. They’re all around you. Just like they were around
him!”

Helena Marchmont advanced on the little girl, her eyes filled with hate. “Gray people?” She laughed coldly. “What silly stories are you spinning now, you little brat?”

Alexis retreated a step. “Stay away. They want
you,
not me. And they’re getting angrier all the time.” The little girl shuddered.

“I’m sure these tales are perfect to frighten your unruly brother and sister, but you can’t expect them to frighten
me.
Now give me that doll. Then I will be on my way.”

“Why do you w-want Josephine?”

“Because I have been told it might contain something very interesting, something lost since the night your parents died.”

The little girl turned and began to run. “I
won’t!
You are one of them, and Uncle Thorne will take care of you.”

“I think not,” the countess said harshly. “I’m very sad to say that your Uncle Thorne will not be taking care of anything. Not
ever
again.”

I
ndia was staring through the window at the bright silk canopy of the hot air balloon when she heard Alexis’s frightened cry from the rose garden. A moment later the little girl hurtled through the open french doors, her face white. “She is one of them! I saw them all around her.”

“Who?”

“The gray people.” The girl shuddered. “They were all around her, just like the man with the scar. Something terrible is going to happen, I know it.” Alexis twisted convulsively, burying her face in India’s skirt.

The duchess frowned at India. “Gray people? What does she mean?”

“I’ll explain later, Grandmama.”

At that moment another figure appeared in the french doors. “My lady, I must speak with you. No, I must plead with you.” A woman in a simple traveling cloak stood on the threshold, ringing her hands. Behind her stood Albert, the footman who had come from London.

“Perhaps now is not quite the best time,” India began diplomatically, but the woman hurried into the room just the same.

“This has to do with Miss Alexis. It’s that horrible Lady Marchmont, you see. I’ve worked in her employ for six months, and every second of it was an agony. Such things she does and says, and now she’s planning something horrible, I know it. But I don’t care, I’ve run away and good riddance to the lot of them. And I had to tell you, since Albert and I, we—” The young woman’s face filled with color.

The footman stepped forward, squaring his shoulders. “We’re wishing to be married, my lady, and that’s the fact of it. I told Eliza that you would not be against the match, for you are not like Lady Marchmont. But she has something to confess, and she must do it herself.”

The woman’s hands trembled. “I was the one what sent those warning letters to you, my lady. I knew Lady Marchmont had something bad in store for you, and it was the only way I could think of to warn you. She never let me out of her sight, you see. Albert and I only got to meet when I was doing errands. But I begged him to leave the messages for you, and he did, good-hearted man that he is. He didn’t know what was in them, I swear it.”

That mystery, at least, was solved, India thought. She smiled at the anxious young woman. “Oh, I doubt we will be sacking Albert anytime in the next twenty years. He’s far too efficient a footman for that. As for you, Eliza, I’m quite certain we can find a place for you, either here at Swallow Hill or back at Devonham House. Would you like that?”

“Oh, miss,
would
you? Could you possibly, in spite of the deceit I’ve played on you?”

“You tried to warn me, Eliza. How can I be angry for that?”

Alexis scrubbed at her cheeks. “You worked for Lady Marchmont? She
was
evil, just like I thought, wasn’t she?”

The young woman nodded vigorously. “Everything you said about her was true and I think you were ever so clever to notice it.” She looked at India. “I’ve always been wishing to work as a governess, my lady. I thought perhaps…” Her voice trailed off wistfully.

India laughed. “As it happens, I know three ragamuffins who are in need of a firm but loving hand.”

The young woman smiled at Alexis and reached for her hand. “Well, then, Miss Alexis, why don’t you and I see if we can’t find something to do for Cook in the kitchen? Mr. Albert will show us the way.”

India watched in amazement as Alexis trotted off happily, the traumas of the last hour forgotten in her eagerness to “help” Cook by tasting one of her superb confections.

“But where has Ian gotten to?” India asked her grandmother. “I asked him to ride and check on Devlyn in the carriage. He still hasn’t come back after a quarter of an hour?”

The old woman frowned. In the curve of the valley the balloon dipped and swayed in the steady eastern wind. “That’s not like your brother,” she said slowly. “Maybe the little girl was right. Maybe we
ought
to be worried…”

~ ~ ~

Stevens trained his pistol on Dev’s chest. “And now, Thornwood, I believe you will hand that diamond over to me.”

“If I did, I’d be a fool. As soon as you have it, you’ll most certainly shoot me.” Dev had trouble keeping his voice even as sharp pains from Stevens’s first bullet burned down his arm.

“But I shall shoot you
either
way, Lord Thornwood. Not a thing you do now will make any difference.”

A horse thundered alongside the coach. Ian’s face appeared in the carriage window. “Everything all right in there? India was concerned and asked me
to—”

The cloak slid from Stevens’s arm. Ian’s eyes widened as he saw the gleam of a polished barrel.

The weapon cracked and a ball grazed his thigh. The force sent him reeling backward to the ground in a crumpled heap.

“Such a pity about India’s brother.” Stevens smiled coldly. “But we don’t want to be disturbed, do we, Thornwood?”

Dev did not speak. He was fighting to stay upright, while blood soaked through his shirt. But now would be his only chance at escape.

Abruptly he threw himself forward, shoving Stevens back against the side of the carriage and dislodging the pistol. Cursing, he turned and wrenched open the carriage doors, tensing his body to jump. Outside the ground rushed past in a blinding blur, for the team was at full gallop now.

And that moment of hesitation was Thorne’s undoing.

“You’ll pay for that, Thornwood,” Stevens growled. And then his boot slammed into Thorne’s side.

~ ~ ~

India stood up abruptly. “I’m going after them. Something’s wrong, Grandmama, I can
feel
it.”

“But they have over a half-hour’s start. Even on Hannibal, you could never catch up.”

India’s eyes locked on the brightly colored silk canopy outside the window. She lifted her skirts, revealing the breeches she had put on at her first suspicion of trouble. “But I’ll go by balloon, of course.”

Frowning, the Duchess of Cranford summoned Connor MacKinnon. “The hoyden’s gone after Devlyn. She’s convinced something’s happened to him, and I can’t say that I am not a little worried myself. You’ll find her down the slope of the hill.”

MacKinnon’s brow rose. “How can she hope to catch up with him?” As he looked out the windows, Connor’s face took on a rather sickly pallor. “Surely not by balloon?” When he met the duchess’s eyes, his worst fears were confirmed. He swallowed and summoned up a smile. “By hot air balloon. Why not? After all, how much more difficult can it be than standing a wave-swept deck in pitching seas?”

But he didn’t look at all convinced as he set out after his friend’s sister.

~ ~ ~

Henry Smithson was just checking the last of the rigging, with India at his side, when Connor reached them. MacKinnon looked dubiously at the full canopy, then shook his head. “Give me a slippery deck in a gale-force storm any day,” he muttered.

“Connor, what are you doing here?” India was straightening sandbags along the edge of the basket.

“Your grandmother thought I could use the broadening experience of a balloon flight.”

“Bosh. You’ve come to keep an eye on me.”

“If that balloon looks half as shaky as it appears, it’s
you
who will have to keep an eye on me, minx.”

Smithson, however, was eyeing the clouds gathering in the north. “Time we should be going, miss. Those clouds mean a change of winds, and I don’t care to be bucking crosswinds, not over this valley. But we’ll catch your carriage, never you fear.” He looked at Connor MacKinnon’s tall frame. “You’ll be stretching our weight to come with us. Are you sure about this?”

“Having lived through the English bombardment of Algiers, I suppose I can manage one hot air balloon ride.” MacKinnon frowned at the basket. “How do I get into this thing?”

India hid a smile, shoved him over the edge, and followed him in. A moment later Smithson cast off the lines, and the balloon began to rise over the sweeping lawns. As the ground grew smaller, India watched the hills to the south. “I see them!” A carriage crawled along the twisting road. She said a silent prayer of thanks that she had also sent Luna off in pursuit, guided by the scent of one of Devlyn’s boots. Already she could make out the wolf loping through the meadows far below them.

India only prayed they would not be too late.

~ ~ ~

 “So, Stevens, how is it that you first became a traitor to your country?” Thornwood eased back against the side of the carriage, cradling his bleeding arm. “Was it money that turned you, or was it sheer lust for power?”

“What would you know about wanting power or money?” His captor scowled. “You, who have had nothing but privilege your whole life?”

“You might be surprised,” Devlyn said softly.

“None of that matters anyway. When I have that diamond back in my keeping, everything will change. We have many powerful supporters now. Even the Prince Regent’s daughter is sympathetic. A few gold guineas in the right hands and their loyalty will be ensured.”