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

with gifts and little notes, and bless her for
it. She'd given Olivia enough time to cast a mold of the lacy silver key on her
chatelaine before Talleyrand could collect his belongings.
    He stared at Alexandra's yellow
door, considering something and how to ask it. Finally, he forged ahead,
curious for Olivia’s answer. “Would you ever do it, paramour to a wealthy man?”
He omitted 'men', as in Madame Osipova's case.
    “No.” The word snapped between them
with the force of a steel trap. Then she held up her hand, softening. “An
affair, perhaps. Passionate, without care.” She shuddered. “Never as a business
arrangement. Can you imagine making love with the same attitude as shipping
grain?” Her laugh was musical. “And I could never bring myself to do it while
married.”
    Annoyance crept in at the near
mention of John. Their banter cooled; he couldn't pin a better name to a
feeling so much like jealousy. He tried and failed to entirely cast it aside.
“I'm certain Talmadge will be relieved to hear it.”
    To his surprise Olivia kept silent,
attention fixed outside. She must have heard him, and he wondered that her
usual retort.
    He traced the curve of her
forehead, the slope of her nose to its tip. The path led into dangerous
territory. Familiar territory. He tried ignoring full lips, the cling of her
sky-blue velvet spencer jacket across her bosom. Olivia fell well outside of
his usual taste: older, widowed, independent financially and emotionally, and
never too invested to walk away with more than a handshake. His continued
preoccupation with her was unsettling. Imprudent too, as far as Whitehall was
concerned.
    “Oh! There he goes.” She tapped a
finger below the glass, snapping him back to attention. “Not even time for a
cup of tea. My goodness.”
    “How long do you think it should
take?” He threw up both hands at the lift of her brows. “Hastier than I would
have been. Much hastier, but perhaps his calling cards overfloweth.”
    She rolled her eyes, looking away.
“Mmhm. We'll see about that; it's your turn.”
    “For good luck?” He tapped a finger
to his cheek, already knowing the answer.
    “Absolutely not.” Olivia shooed him
with a hand. “Besides, I'm not certain all the luck in France will help you in
there.”
    “That, madam, is entirely dependent
on how quickly you work.”
    Olivia shrugged, pretending to
examine her fingernails. “Perhaps I'll take my time.”
     
    *          *          *
     
    He hovered in the doorway, short of
an antechamber separating them from the bedroom, taking Alexandra in.
    She was lovely, no denying that.
Too thin and too much of a boyish figure for his taste. That said, her face,
like her body, was long, boasting delicate features. Warm brown eyes and a
tumult of honey locks answered her pale skin and ivory gown.
    Lovely, but what struck him first
was the smell. Sweat . Old, rancid, and sharp. Olivia's fears at
Osipova's demanding routine were immediately put to rest. The woman was
attractive, exclusive, and he guessed that made her shortcomings excusable,
like warm punch and stale sandwiches at a ball. Her day was obviously not spent
washing and dressing in clean clothes.
    Setting his hat on the table inside
her front room, he poked out a small bouquet of violets. “Madame.”
    Alexandra smiled, thanking him and
flashing a line of yellow teeth as she laid the gift on a low table between
their chairs. She drifted down onto the rose-print satin and swept a hand.
“Please, Lord Lennox.”
    Perching on the edge of his spindly
chair, Ty made of show of letting his eyes rake over her.        Even under a
scant breeze from an open window, the room was stifling. An unpalatable mix
wafted from the adjacent bedchamber: unwashed bodies, cheap cologne, and
something repulsively musky. He tried breathing through his mouth with limited
success.
    Leaning farther back, lifting her
bosom, she smiled. “What has brought you to call on me,