Toward the Sunrise Read Online Free Page A

but Julia preferred to walk up the stairs to burn off the nervous energy that had been accumulating while she’d been trapped on the streetcar ride here.
    She’d never actually visited Mr. Carlyle at his Manhattan office, and she was stunned to learn that he was only one of twenty-five lawyers who worked for the Vandermarks.
    “Is Mr. Carlyle expecting you?” the clerk at the front desk asked, peering over his spectacles with suspicion.
    Dressed in a simple poplin frock with a square neckline and modest bustle, she felt a bit out of place in an office lined with mahogany walls, lit with green-shaded electric lamps, and smelling of old money. “No, but I hope he can make time to see me today.” It hadn’t even occurred to her that Mr. Carlyle might not be available, but a man of his responsibilities might be anywhere in the city today. Or the world, for that matter. The walls of the office were covered with maps showing all the great trading ports of the world: Rotterdam, Shanghai, Buenos Aires, Antwerp. It made her dizzy, this reminder of how big the world was. She drifted toward the map of the port of Shanghai, reaching out to touch the cold metal frame, her gaze traveling along the shorelines of the East China Sea, wondering if she would ever have the opportunity to see them in person. To listen to the cry of the kingfishers in the harbor. To feel the salty breeze on her face.
    “Miss Broeder, what an unexpected surprise.”
    She jerked her fingers away from the map. Ashton Carlyle stood at the opening of a hallway leading to a suite of offices, looking as impeccable as always. His vest was made of shantung silk in the shade of carnation-red she always associated with the Chinese color of good luck. She gathered her breath and prayed for a bit of the good luck to rub off on her.
    “May I say how dapper you look this afternoon?” she commented bravely. And indeed he did. His light brown hair was carefully groomedand in perfect keeping with his finely molded face. His trousers were pressed to a knife-edge seam and broke at precisely the correct spot over his fancy leather shoes. He must pay his tailor a fortune.
    He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Thank you. I am expecting a visitor shortly, but I have a few minutes if you would care to follow me to my office.”
    His office was as flawless as the man. There was no clutter in the room, but it was exquisitely decorated, with a wall of exotic maps, paintings of faraway places, and a large window overlooking Manhattan’s skyline. He offered her a chair that was lined with tufted leather and deep-set squabs and faced his desk. She sat, clenching her beaded reticule in her fists.
    “What can I do for you, Miss Broeder?” His voice was pleasant, but his face brimmed with curiosity. Always so correct, so proper.
    “I need help. Money and a good attorney, for a start.”
    He coughed as he took a seat at his desk. He averted his gaze, adjusted his starched collar, then looked back at her again. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that, please?”
    Heat suffused her body. This was awful—but had to be endured.
    “I’ve been expelled from college. I’d like to mount an appeal, and I believe I need a good attorney to do so.”
    There was no change of expression on his face. It may as well have been carved from stone. “Explain yourself,” he said quietly.
    She owed him the truth and quickly told him about how the firemen expected her to patch up their dog so they could turn it around and fight it again. She admitted to taking the dog out of the city. She told him about the police becoming involved and her charge of moral turpitude.
    “And what do you expect me to do about it?” Mr. Carlyle asked. The austerity in his tone was a surprise. He’d always been so pleasant and supportive in the past.
    “Well, I know Mr. Vandermark has always taken a personal interest in my studies.”
    If anything, his face grew colder. But it was true! A semester did not pass without