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

his hair. “Peter does have a scar.” He turned to his father. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
    The duke nodded; his expression was somber.
    “What?” Charles asked. “What does it mean?”
    The duchess stood and approached like a lioness stalking her prey. A furious lioness. “It means she will insist on following this up,” she hissed. “She will insist on going to Scotland to find her lost love.” She ended on a wail and threw up her hands.
    “Now, now, darling.” The duke attempted to comfort her, but failed.
    “She was so close to accepting the truth of it. Finally! She’d even started wearing black. So close to moving on.”
    “Mother,” Caesar said in a dry tone. “This is Tannia. She’s never given up on anything in her life.”
    The duchess whirled on him. “She doesn’t have time for this. Her birthday is two short months away.”
    Charles blinked and stared at Britannia, pale, fragile and lovely on the couch. The girl was hardly on the shelf.
    Caesar was unmoved. “But what if Charles’ John is Peter?”
    Well hell. He wasn’t his John.
    “What nonsense. Peter is dead.”
    “It does seem a strange coincidence. Both men having a similar scar. Both having fought at Waterloo.” Caesar shrugged. “This John having no memories.”
    “Peter would not have forgotten our Britannia.”
    The duke stepped forward and enfolded his wife in his arms. “Darling. The battle was hellish. Some men did return from battle confused, lost. There have been stories about them in the papers.”
    The duchess set her hand to her husband’s cheek. “It is wrong to foster her delusions, Alex.”
    The duke glanced at his daughter, still motionless and insensate. “You are right, of course.”
    “And Scotland? It’s so far. Practically on the other side of the world.”
    “Not so verra far,” Charles felt the need to mention. This had the unexpected consequence of making him suddenly the center of attention. All three sets of Halsey eyes pinned on him. It was a disarming moment.
    Fortunately, the lovely Britannia roused just then, and their intensity shifted to her. She pushed herself up and raked back a coil of curls that had come undone and fixed her gaze on Charles.
    It sent a riot of emotions through Charles. This woman had haunted his dreams every night from the moment he’d set eyes on her. It had scored him to the core that her every glance in his direction was cold and reserved. But now… Now she looked at him with a flare of hope in her eyes. A dewy sort of desire.
    Granted, it wasn’t a desire that matched his, but it was a lovely thing to see.
    “I must go to Scotland,” she said.
    The duchess wailed.
    The duke frowned.
    Caesar scrubbed his face.
    Charles blinked. For one thing, when she said it, she most definitely said it to him . As though she fully expected that he would—
    “You must take me.”
    Good God. She did. She did expect him to take her.
    It had been a trial keeping a distance from her, knowing she was betrothed, knowing she was his best friend’s sister. How on earth would he survive a two-week-long carriage ride in close confines with her?
    “That is out of the question.” At the duchess’ pronouncement, Britannia’s attention skewed to her parents. Her jaw firmed and a light blazed in her eyes.
    The duke crossed his arms and nodded. “We are in the middle of the season, Britannia. Parliament is in session.”
    “I could give a fig for Parliament.”
    “Are you suggesting we allow you to go alone?”
    Britannia smiled. Likely the smile she had used since childhood to charm her father into giving her everything she wanted. “Of course not, Papa.”
    The duchess nearly collapsed with relief.
    “Wick shall take me.”
    A squawk rose in the room. “You are not traveling to Scotland with the Earl of Wick.”
    Charles reared back at the duchess’ tone. Really? Was he such a brigand?
    Britannia rose and crossed the room, swishing her skirts in a manner that