Come the Dawn Read Online Free PDF Page A

burning in her unusual, uptilted eyes.
    But the figure in the regimental coat was gone. Two matrons now stood chatting amiably beneath the dancing candles.
    India caught back a cry, feeling her heart shatter.
    She was reaching out to empty air when the polished floor rushed up to meet her.
    And one pair of eyes darkened, watching from the shadows as she slid into her grandmother’s arms.
    ~ ~ ~
     
    Thanks to her brother’s swift response, India’s lapse was noticed by only a few. When Ian carried her into the study, her name had barely begun to be whispered. By then a new item of gossip had swept throughout the room.
    The name of a soldier thought long dead.
    “Is it really him?” two matrons whispered avidly, head to head.
    “It can’t be.”
    “But it is. There is no mistaking that cool smile. And it is very like Thornwood to come striding in, all arrogant charm, not a seam out of place. A perfect Carlisle, every wretched inch of him. As coldhearted as that gamester father of his. The worse sort of rakehell, so I hear.”
    Fans waved, brows furrowed. One name ran from mouth to mouth as the tall, broad-shouldered officer in scarlet regimentals moved silently through the ballroom. Devlyn Carlisle seemed to have emerged from the grave into the height of the London season, none the worse for wear beyond a small silver scar at his jaw.
    He showed no interest at all in the stir he was causing.
    Only Monkton and Pendleworth, crowding close to offer their shocked welcome, noted Thornwood’s stiffness and a grimness they had never before seen in his face.
    “Dash it, Thorne, is it really you?” Monkton was the first to reach the slate-eyed officer. “But how — when — that is, stap me, man, we heard you were dead!”
    The gray eyes narrowed. “Obviously not. But forgive me, have we met?”
    “Of course we’ve met! It’s me, Monkton. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten who I am. It’s the outside of enough, by Jove!”
    There was a faint tightening in the full lips. “As it happens, that is exactly what I am saying. I have forgotten — Monkton, is it?”
    “Forgotten? By Gad—”
    Pendleworth’s fingers cut off his friend’s angry protest. “This is not the time or place for such a discussion, Monk.” He studied the officer’s hard, bronzed face. “At White’s, shall we say?”
    Devlyn Carlisle’s brow rose. “Unfortunately, I must excuse myself. I have pressing duties tonight.”
    “ Tonight ? But—”
    Again Pendleworth interrupted his friend. “Quite understandable. Sometime soon, then.”
    But Monkton continued to stare after those broad, retreating shoulders, pale as if he’d seen a ghost. “He didn’t even know me, Penn. And he’s changed. The same, yet somehow not the same at all.”
    “I think that is part of what he was trying to tell us, Monk.”
    “But what are we to do? Can’t let the man act a total stranger. It’s — it’s infamous!”
    Pendleworth’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps we have no choice.”
    Hundreds of others also noted Devlyn’s progress through the crowded room. Men shook their heads in grudging admiration, and bejeweled women preened and tittered, hoping to summon a look of heated memory from that hard, tanned face.
    But there was no recognition for any of them.
    The Earl of Thornwood moved through the crowd like a shark through a school of minnows. One by one, the others began to notice the changes in him. He was harder now and leaner. His eyes looked twenty years older, full of shadows and regret. The few smiles he gave never seemed to reach those shadows in his slate-gray eyes.
    Helena Marchmont, in particular, watched in silent fascination as Carlisle strode past. Her fan waved and her lips curved in a slight pout, both of which went unnoticed.
    Nearby, the Duke of Wellington blinked once before picking up the threads of his conversation.
    And the Duchess of Cranford, just emerged from the study, frowned as Wellington turned and made his way toward