Read Online Hatshepsut's Collar (The Artifact Hunters #2) by A.W. Exley - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: A.W. Exley
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standing in the centre of the lush stretch of lawn and imagining Nate taking each stair with a heavy tread.
With each step around the Tower, the echo within her chest retreated to an almost imperceptible hitch. For a mere moment, she allowed her attention to fix on their mutual bond. She sensed Nate’s brooding, his frustration, and a burst of relief to realise she was near. She tried not to dwell on her multitude of problems as they passed the enormous Waterloo Barracks, large enough to house a thousand soldiers. The size of the barracks containing the elite airmen was one of the reasons HMRAS established their base of operations at the Tower. The outer towers were perfect for the airships, and the queen loved to have her favourite soldiers close to hand.
There was talk Victoria was building a royal airship to enable her to travel to new territories, and its bulk would soon adorn the London skyline, anchored above the White Tower. Cara cast her gaze upward to the flat roof of the square structure. She could see a stairway being constructed, a finger pointing toward the heavens.
With a pounding heart, Cara stepped into the headquarters of HMRAS contained within the central tower. They walked past an Ops Room, buzzing with activity, ticking aethergrams, and voices. They continued through an outer office where two dour secretaries laboured at identical desks. Her silent escort pushed open the door to the inner domain of the constable, Sir John Fox Burgoyne.
Sir John rose from his desk at the interruption. Standing in the middle of his lush office, he looked Cara up and down as though deciding his opinion of her. She gave a silent pray of thanks to Hamish McToon and his seamstress acquaintance. Her lavish gown cost more than most families earned in a full year. She may only be playing a role, but she couldn’t have asked for a finer costume to tread this stage.
While an ordinary man of senior years to look at, Cara learned from McToon that the constable earned the nickname the Silver Fox because of the sharp mind concealed behind his plain and simian looking face. He appeared to make up his mind and indicated for her to be seated on a leather sofa in front of the enormous stone fireplace.
“They tell me you are claiming to be Lady Lyons.” He took up a position next to the fireplace, leaning on the stone surround where he could look down on her.
She swept her skirts to one side as she sat. “I don’t claim to be anything. But I am Nathaniel’s wife.”
His shaggy brows contracted like two furry caterpillars conferring. “No you’re not. The Viscount Lyons is unwed.”
Cara sighed.
We could play this game of who the fuck are you all day. I may as well lay out my trump card.
“Yes I am. Since the facts are little known, I thought you might need convincing.” She pulled the marriage certificate from the small velvet reticule, dangling from her wrist. She handed the document to the constable, aware his gaze drifted to the plunging neckline of her gown as the fur parted with her movement.
There could be another meaning for the Silver Fox nickname.
He took the offered piece of paper and the caterpillars conferred once again. His rheumy gaze flicked from Cara to the certificate. “But this says you were married three years ago.”
“That’s right.” She rested her left hand on top of her right, using her thumb to twirl the intricate band around.
“That’s impossible.” The caterpillars were having a hard time digesting the information in front of them.
“I’m sure you can check the entry at the Courts of Justice if you don’t believe me. But I would rather get to the bottom of my husband’s incarceration on these obviously false charges.”
He dropped his frame into the chair opposite Cara, leaned back, and gave her a condescending look. “We have excellent intelligence that Lord Lyons has been selling vital British secrets to the Russians at a critical time in political negotiations.”
“You
With each step around the Tower, the echo within her chest retreated to an almost imperceptible hitch. For a mere moment, she allowed her attention to fix on their mutual bond. She sensed Nate’s brooding, his frustration, and a burst of relief to realise she was near. She tried not to dwell on her multitude of problems as they passed the enormous Waterloo Barracks, large enough to house a thousand soldiers. The size of the barracks containing the elite airmen was one of the reasons HMRAS established their base of operations at the Tower. The outer towers were perfect for the airships, and the queen loved to have her favourite soldiers close to hand.
There was talk Victoria was building a royal airship to enable her to travel to new territories, and its bulk would soon adorn the London skyline, anchored above the White Tower. Cara cast her gaze upward to the flat roof of the square structure. She could see a stairway being constructed, a finger pointing toward the heavens.
With a pounding heart, Cara stepped into the headquarters of HMRAS contained within the central tower. They walked past an Ops Room, buzzing with activity, ticking aethergrams, and voices. They continued through an outer office where two dour secretaries laboured at identical desks. Her silent escort pushed open the door to the inner domain of the constable, Sir John Fox Burgoyne.
Sir John rose from his desk at the interruption. Standing in the middle of his lush office, he looked Cara up and down as though deciding his opinion of her. She gave a silent pray of thanks to Hamish McToon and his seamstress acquaintance. Her lavish gown cost more than most families earned in a full year. She may only be playing a role, but she couldn’t have asked for a finer costume to tread this stage.
While an ordinary man of senior years to look at, Cara learned from McToon that the constable earned the nickname the Silver Fox because of the sharp mind concealed behind his plain and simian looking face. He appeared to make up his mind and indicated for her to be seated on a leather sofa in front of the enormous stone fireplace.
“They tell me you are claiming to be Lady Lyons.” He took up a position next to the fireplace, leaning on the stone surround where he could look down on her.
She swept her skirts to one side as she sat. “I don’t claim to be anything. But I am Nathaniel’s wife.”
His shaggy brows contracted like two furry caterpillars conferring. “No you’re not. The Viscount Lyons is unwed.”
Cara sighed.
We could play this game of who the fuck are you all day. I may as well lay out my trump card.
“Yes I am. Since the facts are little known, I thought you might need convincing.” She pulled the marriage certificate from the small velvet reticule, dangling from her wrist. She handed the document to the constable, aware his gaze drifted to the plunging neckline of her gown as the fur parted with her movement.
There could be another meaning for the Silver Fox nickname.
He took the offered piece of paper and the caterpillars conferred once again. His rheumy gaze flicked from Cara to the certificate. “But this says you were married three years ago.”
“That’s right.” She rested her left hand on top of her right, using her thumb to twirl the intricate band around.
“That’s impossible.” The caterpillars were having a hard time digesting the information in front of them.
“I’m sure you can check the entry at the Courts of Justice if you don’t believe me. But I would rather get to the bottom of my husband’s incarceration on these obviously false charges.”
He dropped his frame into the chair opposite Cara, leaned back, and gave her a condescending look. “We have excellent intelligence that Lord Lyons has been selling vital British secrets to the Russians at a critical time in political negotiations.”
“You
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