Free Hatshepsut's Collar (The Artifact Hunters #2) by A.W. Exley Page B

heated dance, momentarily pushing away thoughts of their disagreement.

ara stared at the blank piece of paper and wondered for the umpteenth time what life in Australia would be like. As a course of action, running away held far more appeal than taking on the might of the British Empire. With a sigh, she took up the silver pen and dipped the tip in the bottle of ink. In the centre of the paper, she wrote in a flowing script:
    Lady Lyons requests an urgent audience with Her Majesty.
    Underneath she added the phrase Nate whispered in her ear.
    Death has reared himself a throne in a strange city lying alone.
    A shudder ran through her frame. With Nate in the Tower facing execution, his fate depended on their queen. There were echoes in the words that drilled through her core. Trying to shake off the chill of premonition, she folded the slip of paper and addressed it to the queen’s secretary. She held a stick of black wax to the flame of the small candle sitting on the corner of her desk. She watched the stick melt and drip on to the letter’s surface before pressing down the Lyons seal, a dragon with wings outstretched and claws extended.
    She had no idea if the missive would work, and added “spy for Victoria” to the growing list of things she didn’t know about Nate.
    I woke up yesterday single, and today I’m married to an agent in the Tower for treason.
    With a heavy sigh, she left the office and found Miguel pacing in the entranceway. He seized on the slim letter, eager to have something to do, even if it was only playing postman. Everyone in the house toiled under the weight of nothing to do, the men unused to inertia in the face of trouble.
    “Take the courier’s route into the palace. If Nate has any connection there, use it to get to the secretary.”
    He nodded, confirming Cara’s suspicion he knew how to slip in and out of the palace for his master. “I’ll be back as soon as possible,” he promised, as he dove down the passageway to the back of the house and the stables.
    “And I’ll wait,” Cara said to the empty entranceway.
Time for a brandy and a bath.
    Full dark dropped fast with the onset of autumn. Cara picked at dinner before abandoning her attempts to eat. The knot in her stomach refused to go away and left no room for food. Then she spent an hour staring at the same page in her book, sleep too elusive before Miguel burst into the parlour.
    “Well?” She rose on seeing him, discarding the book, anxious to hear if he was successful.
    He gave her a broad smile. “I couldn’t gain access to her secretary. But he eventually left his office for his dinner and I managed to corner him on his way to the lavatory.”
    Cara gave a quick laugh. A fast thinker, Miguel took advantage of an opening. He reached a hand into his jacket and pulled a small letter from the pocket close to his heart. He handed over the tiny envelope bearing the imperial seal in scarlet wax.
    Her gaze flicked from Miguel to the envelope before she tore it open.
    The scant message comprised only two words:
Tomorrow. 11am.
    “I’m off to see the queen,” she whispered. “I should probably leave my pistols behind.”

    The skilled Madame Levett provided another stunning outfit for Cara, this one a deep green silk that offset her auburn hair and matched the flecks in her hazel eyes. At first glance, the jacket cut appeared modest enough for visiting the queen. Except the cut moulded her torso so exactly, it appeared to be painted over her flesh. With an asymmetrical military cut up the front, black frogging embellished the small upright collar and wide cuffs. The skirt hugged her hips before dropping to the ground in luxuriant folds to form a fan-shaped train behind. The black frogging marched around the wide hem of the skirt. A small green tricorn perched on her head to complete the look.
    Jackson lounged against the carriage, a slow grin spreading over his face on seeing her ensemble. “I’m liking these outfits. They