Call of the Wild Wind (Waterloo Heroes Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

“Sir, I am betrothed.”
    “So Caesar tells me. And your intended? He was lost in the battle of Waterloo?” She hated the sympathy in his eyes.
    “Not lost. Merely misplaced.”
    He nodded and his gaze settled on the darkness beyond the window. “I fought in Waterloo as well, you know.”
    Of all the things he could have said, that was the one that utterly captured her attention. “You did?”
    “I was with the Greys.”
    Ah. A cavalry man. “Peter was in the infantry. But he was an officer, so I am certain he was not in the thick of it.”
    The earl’s smile was tight. “My lady, everyone was in the thick of it.”
    “I understand it was quite the melee.”
    “Indeed it was.”
    “So it is possible that a man could be…misplaced.”
    “I suppose it is.”
    “I’ve heard stories of men who returned from war having forgotten their own names.”
    “Aye. It happened to some of my friends.”
    “This is probably what happened to Peter. This is probably why he has not returned yet.”
    His annoying expression faded into something worse. Condescension. He nodded and said, “Of course,” but his tone lacked any conviction.
    She did not know why people always seemed to have this reaction, but she refused to let it bother her. She refused to let it douse her hope. Peter was alive. He was. Her gaze flew to his portrait and she sighed.
    The earl’s gaze followed hers and he stilled. “Is that Peter?” he asked.
    “Yes.”
    He stepped toward the fireplace and she followed. “He is verra…handsome.”
    “And kind, and funny and bright.”
    The earl tipped his head and studied the portrait from another angle. “Hmm,” he said.
    When he did not elaborate, Britannia frowned at him. “Hmm, what?”
    “I don’t know. He looks verra much like John St. Andrews.”
    Britannia stilled. “Does he?”
    “It is an uncanny resemblance.”
    “And who is this John St. Andrews?”
    “My groom.”
    Her hope deflated. “Oh, well, Peter is not a groom.”
    “John fought at Waterloo. He is one of those men I spoke of. After the battle, he could not remember who he was, or any aspect of his life before the war. We began calling him John because he needed a name, and St. Andrews because that was where we landed upon our return. I say, the resemblance is uncanny.”
    Britannia’s breath caught. Her pulse kicked into a manic tattoo. “Do you…do you suppose John could be Peter?”
    “Now, darling…” Her mother, who had been listening in, offered a protest.
    “Do you suppose?” Britannia insisted. Her heart beat like the wings of a hummingbird.
    The earl looked at the portrait again and then his chin firmed. He shook his head. “John has a scar on his right cheek. Here.” He drew his finger along the side of his face. “This man does not.”
    But the words were fading, along with all the light in the room.
    The portrait had been painted years ago. And Peter had a scar just there.
    Britannia should know. She was the one who had given it to him.
    Thankfully, the Annoying Earl of Wick was attentive and he caught her as she swooned.

 
    Chapter TWO
     
    “Dear lord, Charles,” Caesar groaned as Charles carried his sister to the couch. She was as light as a feather and a delightful weight in his arms. “I asked you to chat with her, not encourage her fancies.”
    Charles frowned at his friend. “It was not my intention to encourage her fancies.” Most certainly not about another man, at least.
    And damn, he hated the look in her eye when she spoke of Perfect Peter.
    “Then why did you mention this John fellow?”
    “Because he looks very much like Peter. And I didn’t mention it intentionally. It just…came out.”
    “Why!?”
    “Because it’s true.” He waved at the portrait. “He does look like John. Without the scar, of course. “
    Her Grace, the Duchess of Axminster—patting her daughter’s cheek and exhorting her to wake up—shot him a glare. It was a quelling glare.
    Caesar sighed and raked