Page 18 of Lord Ashley's Beautiful Alibi
Upstairs in his chambers, Kane considered his challenges.
To effect trade deals, he had to worry not only about corruption but also about the French police breathing down his neck. At the moment, the easiest of his assignments was to strike good agreements with suppliers of French goods. Getting them contracted and past the machinations of the police was his next most difficult. But his first, most vital need was to get Augustine Bolton to help him find her friend, Amber St. Antoine.
If St. Antoine was still alive, he’d need to relay news to Scarlett Hawthorne of who remained of her network of informants. If St. Antoine was not alive, he had to note who was newly missing and rebuild a team of agents who could learn enough about productions of goods and grains and weaponry to keep Britain informed of her enemy’s strengths.
Which, of course, meant he had to discover as soon as possible the sympathies of Augustine Bolton. Which she was not inclined to freely discuss. To her, he was an assassin. An enemy. One who killed and took and ravaged. No diplomat in fine clothing, but a wolf wrapped in lies. Why would she help him?
Only if I can help her.
He snorted.
Onlyifshe even cares that her friend has disappeared? Onlyif, to Raven, Amber St. Antoine has, in fact, vanished.
But a lady who kissed like an angel and fought like a devil would give up few truths without strong inducements.
And what in hell might those be?
*
Fitful all night,Kane gave up and rose at dawn. He rang Corsini to get a bath ready. A hot scrub could help him focus on Augustine Bolton. What she inspired in him in the dark of night in his bed had occupied him far more than it should.
Persuading himself that she was a woman of intellect, who survived in a vipers’ nest of intrigues, he concluded logic was what would sway her. Not flirting. Or raw seduction. Besides, he was not here to dally in a boudoir. He doubted he would be invited into hers. That was a good thing, because he had the premonition he would not wish to leave.
And I have no time for it.
He climbed into his tub and submerged himself to the roots of his hair.
He was not a fool for women. Years ago when he was more randy than wise, he took, if they were willing to give. He enjoyed, if they were the type to delight. But he did not tarry. And he did not obsess.
His Raven seemed sophisticated, a creature of this court. Still she possessed an air of wistful exuberance—and independence. As if he were a creature to be monitored for good behavior, she had searched for his purpose—and she could have a few reasons for that. Which meant she might work for Fouché. Or for Talleyrand. For herself or no one. Heaven knew, she certainly did not converse with Kane to establish a relationship and create a liaison. That, she had made clear.
Whatever her reason, Kane needed her beside him again. To spar, to test, to discuss, to learn from her. About her aunt and that woman’s relationship with Josephine. All of it would be useful…and he would treat Raven as a means to an end. Except for the allure of her lips.
He squeezed his eyes shut. No matter. He still saw their lush contours. Her full lower lip. Her plump upper. Their pink that needed no rouge. The corners that lifted without a smile. The way her lips formed words. As if she wrapped her whole self around the contours of each syllable. As if she enticed each word forth to complement the husky voice that had rubbed his desires all through the night.
Merde.
There he was again. His hand suppressing his rising member. Rhapsodizing like a schoolboy over the curve of her jaw and her breast…
Enough!
He rose with a whoosh of hot water to the tiles.
He needed her knowledge of St. Antoine. And he needed it quickly. But that relationship took time and finesse.
Until he was near her again, he had best throw himself into his own tasks. He had memorized Scarlett’s list of current agents. A few were men—and two women—he had known years ago. A few were those whom he’d only heard of. He would send out a few of his footmen to locate them. See if they still lived in the surroundingfaubourgs. Then he would investigate their actions himself.
In between those searches, he would begin to negotiate for products manufactured in and around the city. The Sèvres china and Gobelin tapestries and rugs were items that wealthy British would eagerly snatch up. To those who could not afford such luxuries, the lace handkerchiefs and fichus from the artisans of Chantilly would bring a smile to many ladies. Later, he’d go to Lyon to buy silks in quantities. Those negotiations should be quick and easy. Then he’d hunt for his scarcest need. Grain. Barley. Wheat.
He would plan to go to the Champagne region to Reims. He’d say he went to visit with a few vintners to buy up their wines to ship to British shores. But he’d say he would go to the St. Antoine vineyards last. He could not claim he went to visit Madame St. Antoine, because he had not met her when he was in France before.
To go to St. Antoine’s estates, he’d need a good alibi.
His Raven could give him that if she came as Amber’s friend—and his.
*
The sun wasbright in the late morning sky as Kane left his carriage and approached theHalle aux blés.The granary for the city of Paris was a circular building, topped by a dome. It stoodin a circular courtyard in front of a pillar erected by Catherine de Medici. Once a palace of hers had stood here, too, but was gone long ago, demolished for this necessary storage facility. Here on the Rue de Viarmes near the Seine, those who wished all kinds of grain came to supply their households, cafés, beer breweries, and shops.
