Hatshepsut's Collar (The Artifact Hunters #2) (25 page)

Blonde curls nodded, swinging back and forth. “
Oui, bâtards.
To hear him talk, he does it in every country, starting in London.”

A grinding sound made Cara look up, trying to find the source. Three cats scattered from a corner by the window. The noise reminded her of beans being ground in a coffee shop, but the pungent aroma was certainly not coffee beans. She turned a curious look to Natalie, but Justine spoke up.

“Automatic litter tray disposal unit, it churns up the contents twice a day and deposits new litter.” She waved a hand in the direction the window.

Cara noticed a large dome-shaped object like an oversized food cover with a cat flap in one side. A metal chute ran from the top back to the wall. Litter slithered down the tube into the tray, sounding like oversized sand running through an hour glass. She shook her head at the ingenuity of some people, and turned back to the murderous conversation topic. “Do you remember anything about the woman Nolton killed in London? Any evidence we can find against him will help us fight the charges Nate faces.”

The courtesan placed the back of her hand to her forehead, her every movement showing a feline grace perhaps caught from her numerous companions. She blew out a long puff of air as she racked her memory. “He is a social snob, so she wasn’t an ordinary street girl. She was demimondaine. He enjoys the power, the feeling of being untouchable.” She tapped her forehead with a fingertip in a gentle rhythm. “Name, name…” The tapping stopped. “Ah! Bubbles!”

Cara frowned and then a light switch flicked in her brain. “Sara Milligan, she was known as Bubbles because of her effervescent personality. She vanished a couple of years ago. Quite a scandal at the time. People speculated she had run off with some European prince.”

“No prince, poor thing.” Natalie picked the tabby off her lap and placed him on the ground. He gave her a disgruntled look before walking off and swiped the cat nestled in front of the fireplace.

Cara ran through options in her head. “He thinks his status protects him. Lucky I know someone who is not intimidated by nobles. I have the perfect mongoose to set after this snake.” If her plans bore fruit, Inspector Fraser could find himself on her payroll. “How long ago did he kill Irina?”

Justine cocked her head to one side, looking doll-like, delicate and so vulnerable. “He hasn’t set foot in Russia for many months. I remember it being spring, so six months ago? I hear he has other interests, an estate in China diverts his attention. One girl said he has imperial ambitions.”

Pillow talk and gossip.
Cara sent up a prayer of thanks for both. Men continually underestimated how much women heard, understood, and exchanged. Natalie gave Cara a long look, and raised one eyebrow. She also made the connection of Nolton’s interests in China. Queen Victoria cast greedy eyes to China. British forces had made it as far as the gates of the Forbidden City before the Treaty of Peking was signed, forcing them to retreat.

What is Nolton doing with holdings in China? Is he working for Victoria, or someone else?
Nate said the best defense is a strong offense. Chances were high whatever Nolton plotted, he accused Nate to cover his tracks.
But to what end?

“You’ve been a great assistance, Justine, thank you.” A stray thread of curiosity fluttered across Cara’s mind and she caught it with both hands. “There is just one more thing you could tell me. Why did you refer to Nolton as Granite Grantham?”

The courtesan gave a tinkling burst of laughter. “Well…”

acket discarded and sleeves rolled to the elbow, Nate chalked the end of his cue and considered his next shot. The balls lay scattered over the green felt. Nikolai’s opening break sunk two solids, leaving Nate to tackle the stripes. He fixed his eye on the yellow and leaned low over the table. The two large, square, overhead lights extinguished all shadows, highlighting the balls like opera stars under the spotlight.

“Corner pocket,” he murmured to Nikolai, naming his intended goal. His mind calculated the necessary angle and force to bounce the ball off the side and around the impediment caused by a blue solid. He pulled back and struck. The thud of cue to white, followed by a crack as the white ploughed into the yellow, sending the ball along its trajectory. The yellow hit the cushion, bounced around the blue, and plopped into the nominated pocket.

“You haven’t lost your touch.” Nikolai leaned on his cue, waiting for Nate to fail before he could take his turn.

“Despite my reputation, I don’t always take fortunes at the point of a sword. Cards or billiards are far more civilised.” Nate’s gaze roamed the table, evaluating and discarding lines as he decided on the next target. He flicked his eyes to his friend. “Did you have any luck overnight?”

Nikolai shook his head. “No, but word is out. My sources will turn up something about Nolton. We just need time for information to flow back to us. He hasn’t been sighted in St. Petersburg for months; let us hope the women have better luck.”

Nate made a non-committal noise in his throat as his mind pried at the edge of their connection, but found the valve between them closed. He tried not to think what Natalie and Cara would get up to, she was capable of looking after herself. Cara had her stiletto blade parasol and the derringer strapped to her thigh.

“Green, side pocket.” An easy through shot, he simply needed enough power to push aside Nikolai’s ball that lay a fraction in the way. He ran his eye down the length of the cue, moved left and took aim.

“Do you worry you will lose her?”

A crack sounded as Nate miscued, hitting the white at the wrong angle the ball dribbled to the side, far short of its intended target. His head shot up, a scowl on his face.
Lose her?
The thought woke him in the middle of the night and clutched at him with cold dread. He could never physically lose her, their bond ensured that, but there were other ways she could be lost.

Nikolai arched an eyebrow, laughter danced behind his eyes. “I’ll take the lack of response as a
yes
.”

“Our wives have only known each other for one day and already I think they talk too much.” He laid the cue on the table, his mind distracted with other thoughts and unable to concentrate on the game at hand.

The automaton butler glided into the room on felt-covered wheels. Only four feet high, its round steel head had large black eyes, making it seem childlike in a creepy, malevolent, metal child way. With no artificial skin covering its body, the exposed chest cavity revealed the ornate brass clockwork directing its movements. A metal arm stretched out with an attached silver tray holding cigars and a stack of correspondence. The machine stopped in front of Nikolai.

“Natalie worries. She likes Cara, but senses her unrest. And you, my friend, gaze at her as though you would devour her whole, just to ensure no one else could touch her. She is the crack in your façade.” He picked up the handful of letters. “Study,” he instructed the automaton. The head cocked while the message registered, it backed up with a whir and headed through to the adjourning room.

Nate ran a hand over the back of his neck, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. “Cara was unhappy to discover the arrangement I made with her father three years ago. But we made progress last night.” His lips twitched, remembering the previous night. Once unfettered, her passions matched his, taking them both to heights he never imagined possible. Though he also remembered her words to him in the Tower, when she demanded he allow her a divorce.

Even a diamond heart can be broken, Nate, if you put it under enough pressure.

He would ease her heart and he had an idea forming in his mind as to how.

Nikolai returned his cue to the brass rack attached to the dark panelled wall. “Come,” he said to Nate, walking through the double sliding doors to his study. “Let us talk in more comfort.”

The golem butler stood immobile next to a brown chesterfield sofa. The silver tray now contained a brandy decanter and two short, squat glasses.

Nate flung himself on the sofa with the deep punched and buttoned back. One arm stretched along the back, the other lay on the rolled arm. Nikolai poured drinks from the crystal decanter, and offered one to Nate, before sinking into the opposite and matching sofa.

He turned a curious look to his old friend, coupled with a raised eyebrow. “So, what is the story of Cara? Natalie gave scant detail last night. Who thought the lash would tame such a creature?”

Nate swung his attention from the rich amber liquor to Nikolai. “Her father sold her to another lord when she was fourteen to settle gambling debts. He took her innocence and in return, she took his manhood.”

Nikolai gave an incredulous look. “As a child, against a full grown man? How?”

Something twisted in Nate’s gut as he thought of what Cara endured, alone and with no one to rescue her. “She fashioned a weapon from her corset stays and stabbed him in the groin with it.”

“She’s a fighter.” Nikolai met his friend’s stare with wry amusement. “Do you feel safe with such a minx in your bed?”

“I always make sure she’s not wearing a corset. And I suspect she is no less deadly than Natalie. I hear she incapacitated one of your enemies with a hat pin.”

Nikolai shrugged. “Natalie is fierce when protective. Would we have our women any other way?”

Nate stared at the glass in his hand. Emotions swirled through him like deep currents, thoughts he could not voice. Only one nightmare tormented his soul: living without her. “I cannot lose her, Nikolai.”

“Then I am sure you will not.” The Russian count regarded his friend. “She is young and impetuous. Such women are like a fine wine, years only add to their complexity and beauty and to our enjoyment of them.”

The two men shared a smile and raised their glasses to absent wives.

After leaving Justine’s apartment, Cara and Natalie spent the day shopping and exploring St. Petersburg. Cara delighted in having a friend to act as tour guide around the city. For one afternoon she forgot a death sentence awaited Nate back in England. Even her desire for a divorce slipped a little farther from her mind, but the issue was never completely forgotten.