Come the Dawn

by Christina Skye

  “Such as?”

  Connor smiled thinly. “Such as rumors that Napoleon’s private treasure of jewels is about to be smuggled into England as ransom for his freedom.”

  Thorne frowned at the broad-shouldered warrior who had become famed for his exotic fighting techniques. “I think you know far too much, MacKinnon. Where would your loyalties lie if it came to a choice between Napoleon and the interests of England?”

  There was absolutely no expression to be read in Connor’s face. “My loyalties are … complicated. My blood must make it so. My background is part Manchu, part French, and part Scots, you see. But before you get your hackles up, Thornwood, let me point out that my greatest loyalty is to my friends, of which Luc Delamere is the oldest. You may count on my help in this affair, not because of patriotic zeal but because I shall do everything in my power to protect India.” His lips twitched for a moment. “And because Napoleon was always very, very bad for business.”

  “He was bad for more than business,” Thorne said flatly. “Have you heard where these jewels are to be brought into England?”

  “Not yet. I was lucky to find out what little I did. These men practice a hard code and any mistakes are repaid with instant death. That’s why I won’t have Luc’s sister involved, Thornwood. Men who would attempt such a scheme must be desperate.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Devlyn turned to pace the room angrily. “But I must find out why that wretched jewel was at Vauxhall and how it came into India’s possession.” He looked at Connor. “I could lose my head for telling you any of this, you know. Wellington was most explicit about that. Are you to be trusted?”

  “Sometimes.” Connor smiled faintly. “Especially when family or friends are involved.” He studied Thorne for a moment. “You’re head over heels for her, aren’t you?”

  “Is it so obvious? “ Thorne ran his fingers through his hair, frowning. “I should deny it. The woman’s turned my life upside down since the first moment I set eyes on her. She’s reckless, impossible, infuriating. And yet—”

  “And yet you cannot live without her,” Connor finished softly.

  Devlyn sighed. “I can’t keep my mind on my duties. I can’t think straight half the time. It’s India that fills my head, not the mission I’ve sworn to complete.”

  Connor smiled. “A pathetic case, to be sure.”

  “Sometimes I think it would be better if we’d never met. Then I think of all I’d have missed — the laughter, the reckless adventures.” Devlyn laughed shakily. “As you can see, a truly pathetic case.” He shook his head. “But why is she interested in jewelers?”

  “No doubt she means to use that gemstone as a calling card. Since she can’t find your enemies, she means to lure them out after her.”

  “I’m supposed to be protecting her, blast it! How does she always manage to stay one step ahead of me?”

  “She’s a Delamere, my friend. They live by different rules.” Connor’s eyes gleamed for a moment as he recalled several of Luc’s past exploits. “It’s no good arguing with a Delamere. They make the very best friends — and the very worst of enemies. But India is in gravest danger. Every cutthroat in London will be after her when they find out she has l’Aurore, and no jeweler of repute would dream of handling it, since it’s far too easily identified.”

  “I was thinking that myself,” Thorne said grimly. “You said she was to meet you here at two o’clock? I’d give a king’s ransom to know where she went.”

  “I might be of some help,” Connor said. “If you’ll tell me about this mission of yours.”

  “I’m under explicit orders to act in utter secrecy. There have already been too many leaks.” Thorne cursed. “Orders be damned! Where do you think she went?”

  “Knowing India, she could have set off by hot air balloon for the mountain kingdom of Tibet. But I trust that between us we can track her down closer to home. I was told that her groom was with her, at least.”

  “That doesn’t reassure me.” Thorne glared out at the garden at the back of Devonham House. “No doubt India has the poor man wrapped around her finger like the rest of us.”

  Connor studied Thorne for a moment. “She’ll lead you a merry dance, my friend. She will give you no peace, no rest. And probably more joy than you thought life could ever hold. You are a fortunate man.”

  Thorne gave a lopsided smile. He had already begun to suspect something of the sort himself. And at that moment the Earl of Thornwood would have given a great deal to see India’s stubborn, irritating, and utterly beautiful face before him, instead of being torn apart with worry about her safety.

  ~ ~ ~

  The sun was nearly lost behind the rooftops when India finally found her way to the narrow shop sign that read Parrish Brothers, Fine Jewels and Curiosities.’

  A crowd of men lounged noisily in the alley beside the shop, in the company of two women who were definitely not ladies. Occasionally a carriage sped past, but none of them stopped outside the grimy windows of Parrish Brothers. Only twice did someone enter the shop, each time a man with rumpled clothing and cunning eyes.

  India looked uncertainly at her tough-faced old groom, whom she had persuaded to accompany her on this unorthodox mission. “Well, Froggett, what do you think?”

  “I think, Miss India, that those breeches of Ian’s are very near the most ill-fitting piece of clothing I’ve ever clapped eyes on.”

  “Not about my breeches, Froggett. About Parrish Brothers.”

  “Looks havey-cavey to me.” The old groom crossed his arms defiantly. “And if you think I’m letting you stroll into that den of thieves, then you are sorely mistaken. And so will your backside be.”

  “I rather think you’re right, Froggett. It does not look like an entirely respectable place of business, I think. But that is the last shop I know of. What am I to do if—”

  At that moment the proprietor of Montagu’s pounded up behind her, puffing loudly. “My lord — so glad to have — have found you in time—” Pulling at his waistcoat, the jeweler stopped beside India and caught his breath. His face was a sickly gray after his exertions. “I felt it my duty to warn you about Parrish Brothers. Not at all respectable, you see. In fact, should they set eyes on that jewel which you showed me, it would go very hard with you.” He shook his head expressively and ran a finger across his neck.

  “That’s the end of this,” Froggett said curtly. “We’ll consider the business over and done with and be making our way back home, in that case.”

  “But there is one more possibility,” Montagu said quickly. “Nothing fancy you understand, but perhaps it will be of use to you. There is a man who is most unusual, but he pays the highest prices for quality merchandise. You will find him east of London, in a small town called Evesham, not far from the Thames. He is called the Frenchman, but I know nothing more about him. No one does, in fact. But he pays and pays well, and the word is that he is especially looking for rare diamonds these days. You will have to be careful, however, for bands of ruffians work that area of the river.”

  India felt excitement race through her. Could this Frenchman be the man who had lost the diamond?

  Maybe he was the man who had attacked Alexis at Vauxhall? “It is very good of you to tell me,” she said crisply. “And now, Froggett, we must—”

  “Just what manner of tradesman is this Frenchman?” the groom demanded. “I’ve never heard of any banker conducting business in a village on the banks of the Thames.”

  Montagu shook his head. “Oh, the Frenchman’s no banker. Not a jeweler either. He is whispered to be many things, you understand, and it is not precisely healthy to speculate about his past. But he will not harm you unless you attempt to trick him, and I am sure a gentleman of your obvious quality would never attempt to do that.”

  The more India heard, the more she was certain that this was the clue she had been waiting for. She dug into her pocket and tossed Montagu a half crown for his help. “My dear Montagu,” she said
lazily, “I assure you that trickery is the very last thing on my mind. In fact, I am as honest as my name is Edward Fairchild, cousin of Lady India Delamere.”

  Beside her Froggett broke into a fit of hoarse coughing.

  “It is not a great distance from London,” Montagu said, politely ignoring the groom, who was having trouble recovering his composure. He pocketed the half crown and bowed. “A word of caution, however. Keep the nature of your business to yourself. There are those who are not so scrupulous about how they would possess such a jewel. And now I must return to my shop. My broth will be gone cold.”

  Froggett watched the man hurry back down the street. “She won’t listen to nobody. I don’t expect she’ll start listening to you either,” he muttered.

  “Remember your rheumatism, Froggett,” India said absently. When she grabbed the groom’s arm and pulled him back toward Devonham House, she was already hatching a plan for their upcoming ride to a little village called Evesham.

  ~ ~ ~

  Two hours later India sat her white gelding, looking at the whole of London spread below them to the south. “It’s a fine evening for a ride, don’t you think?”

  “A fine night to die by a cutthroat’s knife,” the old groom said gloomily. “Should never ha’ let you talk me into this madness.”

  “Nonsense. It’s wonderful to be out of London.” India patted the gelding’s neck. “It reminds me of a time in Calcutta when Ian and I finally managed to escape from an awful governess Mama had saddled us with. With the help of our Parsi groom, we rode hell for leather for hours. It was the most perfect fun — until we were stopped by a band of dacoits in the hills, that is. One nasty fellow wanted to string Ian up by his toes and see how long it took the vultures to finish him off. The others wanted to do something that sounded even more painful. Since our Hindi was limited, we never were sure what they had in mind.” She shrugged cheerfully. “Then they discovered I was a female and turned more horrible still. But I began to spin about and wave my hands, chanting strangely. Of course they wanted nothing to do with a madwoman, since they were very superstitious.”

  “Lucky for you, else they never would ha’ been fooled by a green girl like you.”

  “Don’t be gloomy, Froggett. It only makes your rheumatism flare up, you know. As I was saying, everything turned out well in the end. Finally they paid Ian to take me away from their camp, because they were convinced that I was possessed by rakshas and would bring them nothing but bad luck.”

  “And so you would have, for a person with a greater aptitude for trouble I have yet to meet.” The groom sniffed. “What is a raksha?”

  “An evil spirit. I found a packet of fireworks that Father had brought back for me from Macao. I tossed them into the fire when the camp was asleep, startling all the horses. Ian caught on and began demanding more and more money to take me off their hands. He was enjoying himself immensely.” She smiled. “In the end they offered a lordly sum and threw in two Marathi daggers into the bargain. Very good steel they were, too.”

  “No need of heathen weapons to see us murdered tonight. Good English steel will see us dead well enough,” Froggett predicted grimly.

  “Why? I’ve pistols in my cuff and a dagger in my boot. I am not at all worried.” India smoothed Ian’s old jacket about her slender hips. “We are simply a groom and his assistant, off to view some prime horseflesh at Norwich.”

  “Who’s the groom and who’s the assistant, that’s what I want to know?”

  “I’m the assistant, of course,” India said loftily. “What could possibly be dangerous about that?”

  “Ain’t enough time in the day to list all the things,” Froggett muttered.

  Nor did his face grow happier as the miles sped past. With the city behind them, they plunged into lonely countryside. Froggett envisioned a dozen smugglers or highwaymen lying in wait behind every bend in the road.

  “Admit that it’s a fine adventure.” India reined in her great gelding and pulled out a chunk of Cheshire cheese wrapped in oiled paper. She broke off a piece for Froggett.

  “Oh, it’s fine all right. Many’s the man who found danger on a fine night when he least expected it. And there’ll be the devil to pay when your grandmother and brothers hear about this, Miss India. Lucky if I don’t get sacked for this piece of madness.”

  “Bosh,” India said, chewing thoughtfully on the other half of the cheese. “No blame will be laid at your door, dearest Froggett. My brothers know me too well to think anyone else planned this.” She studied the horizon to the east, where the night sky lay like velvet over the deeper black of the hills. “Besides, the Red Lion is just over that hill, unless I miss my guess. We’ll put up there for a few hours before we push on to Suffolk.”

  “I still say as how this is a stupid idea. The whole area’s rife with footpads and highwaymen.”

  “Which is why I’m carrying two loaded pistols.”

  “Who’s to say this Frenchman ain’t a highwayman himself?”

  “He wouldn’t buy gems in that case, would he?” India studied the moon, just creeping over the horizon. “He would simply hunt down a carriage and take what he wanted, like Luc used to do. No, my intuition tells me that this Frenchman is the man we want.”

  Froggett snorted. “Heaven help us if we’re relying on your intuition.”

  India laughed and brought her magnificent mount to the little stream bubbling down the hillside. The great animal neighed and bent low to drink. “Just a few miles more, Froggett. Then it’s a nice bed for you and a rasher of oats for Hannibal to—”

  Suddenly the great gelding’s head rose. Whinnying, he stepped back from the stream.

  Up the bank a dozen shadows edged from the greenery. The furtive way they moved reminded India of a windy night and a band of angry dacoits.

  One man inched in front of the others. “Now just fancy what we’ve got here,” he said coldly, raising a pistol. “Mebbe our luck’s about to change.”

  CHAPTER 22

  “Stop where you are, cur.” Froggett pulled a pistol from his pocket and spurred in front of India. “Unless you want a gaping hole between your ugly eyes.”

  Instantly a dozen more pistols leveled on Froggett.

  “Put your weapons down, all of you,” India said quickly. “I’m sure we can discuss this in a civilized fashion.”

  “In a pig’s eye,” the groom muttered.

  The leader of the sullen band pointed at India. “Get down off that horse, whelp. Otherwise the old man dies.”

  India slid her hand along her shirt cuff, reassured by the outline of the pistol hidden there. “No reason for threats. My friend and I mean you no harm.”

  “No harm!” The man threw back his head and roared with laughter. “They mean us no harm, did you hear that, lads?” Laughter rang over the hillside, making India’s mount dance restlessly. “Now climb down from that horse and turn it over.”

  “I don’t think you want me to do that.”

  “No? And why is that?”

  India shrugged. “You’ll see.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “Talk damned careful for a stable boy. Where do you come from?”

  “I don’t believe that’s any of your business.”

  A pistol glinted in the moonlight. “Mebbe I’m making it my business, whelp. Let’s have your name.”

  “Jeremiah,” India said coolly.

  “Big name for a mighty scrawny creature,” the man said thoughtfully. “A sight too big for that horse, too. Now climb off, boy, like I told you.”

  “If you insist.” India slid from the horse and took a step back, her face expressionless.

  “Going to ride the big brute, are you, Will?” someone called from the ragged circle of followers.

  “What if I am?” the man growled. He moved closer and patted the animal’s muscled neck. Emboldened when the horse did not pull away, he slid a foot into the stirrups.

  Still no reaction.

  Another second and he was in t
he saddle, smiling in triumph.

  But the smile did not last. Neighing loudly, the horse reared, throwing his hapless rider head over heels into a row of thornbushes. He landed to the accompaniment of loud laughter from his band.

  The bushes rustled and the man named Will reappeared, his steps pained. “I’ll teach you,” he swore, pulling a whip from his threadbare jacket. “You’ll not try that trick on me again, you great brute.”

  “It won’t work, you know,” India said coolly. “He’s trained to my bit and no one else can ride him.”

  “Then he’ll soon learn better manners, won’t he?”

  One of the others put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Looks a damned expensive piece of horseflesh, Will Colton. Why not take him to the Frenchman?”

  The band muttered uneasily.

  “He deals in anything of rarity. This horse would fetch a nice guinea or two.”

  The muttering grew to loud assent.

  “And just how d’you expect to get the beast to the Frenchman’s ship?” Will demanded.

  “Make the whelp ride him, since he’s so cocky.”

  The leader smiled, struck by the reasonableness of this plan. “Aye, you’re right. Let the Frenchman teach these three some manners.” He laughed coldly and pointed his pistol at India. “You heard the man. Mount up.”

  “We’re not going anywhere,” Froggett snapped. “You can take yourselves off to hell and toast your eyebrows!”

  The leader’s eyes hardened. “Is it a fight you’re after, old man? If so, you’ve got one.”

  India slid into the saddle and kneed the great gelding between the two men. She thought of putting a bullet through the man’s head here and now, but one wrong move and the others would shoot her and Froggett. Far better to wait until they were spread out on the trail. Then there would be any number of chances to bolt. “Who is this Frenchman you’re muttering about?”

  Will Colton smiled coldly. “Not healthy to ask too many questions of that sort, boy. Besides, you’ll be meeting the man soon enough. Reckon you can ask him all about hisself then,” he sneered. He waved sharply, and India was surrounded by riders.