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

amusement. “Now, the man for whom she truly abandoned me... that would be considered 'criminal'.” He had liked Georgiana, liked her a great
deal. They had enjoyed one another for the better part of a year, and her
sudden rejection had stung much more than it should.
    Olivia tossed her paper aside,
arching back into her chair and raising her breasts with no regard for a
captive audience. Gathered yellow silk strained at her effort, dipping lower
over ivory skin. Biting his lip, Ty redoubled efforts to focus on a sunspot
lighting the wall behind her.
    “Strange that someone would call
you out for saying so. But publish it here,” she tapped a sheet of
print, “and they'll not object to reading it.”
    “Well, no, of course not,” he
quipped. “Gossip is for the downstairs. Reading is for the educated classes.”
It was a tender subject for a man who hailed from somewhere in between.
    He began to match her laugh, then
caught a faint tap of shoes on the staircase out in the hall. “Quick,” he
whispered, “Company is coming.”
    Olivia might take ultimate pleasure
in her headboard ruse, but he lived for these moments. Every opportunity to pay
attention to a beautiful woman was welcome. Jumping to his feet, he came
halfway around the table's round top. Planting one palm against the marble, the
other at her nape he brought his lips to the perfumed hollow beneath her ear.
The smooth pads of her fingers brushed sensitive skin along his jaw, and Ty
steeled himself.
    These moments . These were
the times which required a spy's every ounce of discipline and self-control. It
was only an assignment, merely a diversion to fool bystanders into trusting
what they saw. Olivia certainly did not have some inexplicable hold on
him in these moments. He was tired, cranky and too long without the attentions
of a lady. That was all.
    Her influence over him since the
comte's masquerade was another matter entirely.
    Creature of habit, indeed.

 
     
     
    CHAPTER THREE
     
     
     
    Their safe house was the last
building at a Y-shaped intersection between the Rue Durantin and Rue Ravignan.
High and narrow, an anvil wedged at the end of the block, tiny balconies ringed
each floor like teeth. Its yellowed limestone was as dusty and weathered as any
other building on the surrounding three streets, but the walk out front was
clear of litter and manure. The step was swept clear of leaves in the fall and
snow in the winter, all to keep the house looking tidy and lived-in.
    All of this was owing to Monsieur
Beltran, the caretaker. He came two or three times a week when the house was
unused, conspicuous in his black-and-white striped jacket. He tipped a hat to
the ladies, nodding to children spinning their hoop down the street. The man
was a fervent Royalist, his history as forgotten over time as his face. He'd
been the king's valet once, according to Whitehall, and his loyalty still
burned bright. When whispers had spread throughout the underground of Britain's
espionage of her need for a native Frenchman to aid with simple but vital tasks
undermining Napoleon, Beltran had been the first to leave a brief, neatly
printed introduction on the desk at the Hotel d'Arblay. It was no more than a
hotel frequented by wealthy tourists, as far as most people knew. Beltran had
obviously known better.
    His routine in tending the safe
house was kept in meticulous detail, the mark of a good valet. A wonder of
domestic organization, Beltran maintained a nondescript brown leather journal.
It was stored in a drawer of the console table in the entry hall, where Ty had
discovered it a day earlier. Its spine was nearly worn white on each side from
a thumb and forefinger, updated faithfully upon his every visit for two years.
There was no one to directly oversee Beltran's efforts, no steward or
chamberlain, but should one appear tomorrow, Ty had no doubt that the man could
acquit himself as a hard worker.
    Ty had seen Beltran tending the
house once or twice while in