Free Viridian (The Hundred-Days Series Book 2) by Baird Wells Page A

to his hip. With his mouth
he was doing something near her neck which resembled a pig rooting for
truffles, desperate to inhale against a permeating odor.
    Catching sight of her, his eyes
widened to desperate circles. His lips worked without sound: Help me.
    Hands grabbed at his collar and
coat sleeves, pinched his waistband. If she didn't hurry up, Alexandra would
have Ty peeled and skewered whether he wished it or not.
    Olivia held up two fingers for his
benefit, darting past the doorway. Against the far wall, positioned between a
window and a small cherry writing desk, was a shoulder high cabinet. Painted
white and trimmed in gold gilt, the box was an abomination of carmine roses,
pastel green leaves, and strutting peacocks. Fishing in her bodice, she grasped
the iron skeleton key she'd cast a week earlier and stood, testing it in the
lock. A mechanism clicked and one door shuddered, wafting a hint of cedar to
her nose over the stink of Alexandra's room.
    So many compartments . Small
ones, for letters, a narrow slot for travel papers and a bankbook, square
drawers for a collection of jewel boxes. She grabbed every envelope in sight,
then tugged free a writing case, a pale blue wooden box painted with black
scrolls and had a fleur-de-lis embossed prominently atop the lid. Flicking up
its latch, she opened the case and smiled. She didn't need to read the names,
the addresses. Years of examining, sometimes forging Talleyrand's handwriting
told her she'd found her prize.
    Tucking the thin box under her arm,
she darted back across the room, pausing just long enough to signal Ty, whose
shirt was creased and half off. His eyes rolled over silent lips: 'Thank God.'
    Back to the door, through the guest
chamber the way she'd come in. Instead of being discreet this time, Olivia
thudded her way down the steps, yanking free a portrait on the landing. “Oh
dear. How clumsy.” She kicked it along ahead of her, insuring it tumbled down
the steps, garnering maximum attention, Osipova’s included. It was her means of
creating a distraction and paroling Ty. Voices rose from farther back in the
house, echoing up the kitchen stairs.
    In the entryway, she swept a hand
across the surface of a half-moon table, toppling candlesticks and breaking a
vase. With a sound kick, she drove the table to the marble, sending it bouncing
and clattering further into the house.
    Olivia ran just until she gained
the steps, taking her time from there and joining a stream of passersby coming
and going along the walk out front. Blubbering reached her ears from the open
window above, Alexandra shrieking something about a jealous lover – Talleyrand.
    Ty's voice reached her, brimming
with fabricated indignation. “By God, I'll have his neck for barging in here!”
    “No, no monsieur!”
    “I'll avenge you, madame. Wait here
and lock your door. If anything...”
    She was too far away, laughing too
hard to pick out anything else over the bustling crowd. Olivia dashed for the
carriage where a coachman helped her in. She settled just in time to see a
disheveled Ty barrel out into the street yelling like a lunatic. Smiling, she
leaned, tapping at her driver. “Around to the alley, if you please. Stop when
you see the madman.”

 
     
     
    CHAPTER FIVE
     
     
     
    Olivia smacked a letter against the
table top. “Stop complaining!”
    An arm draped over his eyes, Ty wrestled
deeper onto the couch, getting as much boot heel as possible up onto its arm.
“It sodding hurts, Olivia!”
    It did, she had no doubt. But Ty
had been intractable all evening, testing her patience, bellyaching at every
opportunity. She examined another letter, dropping it onto one of their lower
priority stacks, and turned back to him. “Who impales themselves on a table
leg?”
    His arm came up, revealing a glare
hot enough to boil water. “Who throws a table in a fleeing man's way?”
    Waving a hand, she shook her head
to conceal a poorly timed giggle. “Just...stop complaining. If