“Be careful,” she said, entwining her fingers in his.
He pulled her closer, placing her hand behind him and wrapping her arm around his waist. He slid his gloved finger down her cheek, wishing he could feel her skin. This time when he leaned down, he didn’t kiss her nose. Instead he captured her lips. They were soft and cold, but they quickly warmed under his. As he deepened the kiss, his hat brim bumped against hers, knocking it askew. He pulled away and grabbed at it so the wind wouldn’t catch it.
Antonia smacked her hand to the top on the hat and pressed it down over her ears. “Go,” she said with grin. “I like kissing you, but there are better venues than the roof of the Russian embassy.”
He flashed her a broad smile and gave the top of her hat a firm pat. “I have the perfect one in mind. It includes a warm fire, some glasses of whiskey, and a blanket.”
“The light-brown blanket with flecks of ocher in it?”
“The very one.”
“I approve. That’s a superior venue in every way.”
“Tonight then,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ll keep a picture of you there in my mind.”
“Is that a promise?” she asked, her tone teasing.
“If you tell me you’ll still be wearing those trousers, I’ll promise you anything.” He leaned in for one last lingering kiss that left her moaning.
It took all his willpower to force himself to turn and face the edge of the roof. He didn’t dare glance at her as he flung one leg over the edge of the railing, grabbed hold of the rope, and began lowering himself down.
Robert came to the quick realization that he didn’t enjoy dangling off the side of a building. He kept his feet braced against the wall as he slowly moved down it. When his foot brushed the top of the lintel above the window, he cautiously put some weight on it. He carefully lowered himself to the window ledge below.
It was only about six inches deep, barely wide enough to stand on. He held tightly to the rope as he fished a long, slim knife from his boot. He carefully wedged the fine blade beneath the window sash just below the catch and then used the tip to unlock it. He raised the window and then slipped inside.
The guest room was dark, and he quickly confirmed that it was also empty. A vacant bed sat against the wall to his right, and directly in front of him, a rectangular seam of light leaked in around the bedroom door.
He turned back to the window and shook the rope roughly. He kept his hand on it, and a moment later he felt it vibrate as Antonia began climbing down.
As soon as he glimpsed her knees, he slid one thickly gloved hand behind her thighs and helped guide her feet to the ledge. Her legs were firm beneath his hand, and her trousers clung to them, revealing every curve of muscle. As he helped her inside, he took pleasure at the sheer intimacy of touching her, even so briefly. A wave of desire filled him, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her against him so he could feel her entire body pressed to his.
Instead, he let her go. She seemed unaware of her effect on him as she turned to slide the window closed. It wouldn’t do to have a gust of wind alert someone to their presence.
He crossed the room and paused to listen at the door.
He heard nothing. The corridor was silent.
He turned the knob, only to discover that the door was locked.
As he reached for his set of lock picks, Antonia laid her hand on his arm, stopping him. “This will be faster,” she said.
Despite the thick gloves he wore, he could still feel her slide something into his hand. His fingers were so clumsy from the cold and the thick leather gloves that he nearly dropped the small object. Fortunately, he caught it.
A key.
“As I recall, you aren’t particularly quick when it comes to picking locks in the dark.”
Robert grinned. “That’s quite clever of you.”
“You’re lucky it was still hidden in the pocket of my petticoat the night the Russians found me at the theater, otherwise we’d have to rely on your nefarious skills.”
He let out a soft chuckle as he inserted the key in the lock and turned it. It worked perfectly.
“Well done. If you don’t mind, I’ll hold onto this for now.” He dropped the key into his pocket rather than risk passing it back to her in the dark.
He opened the door only an inch and peered outside.
The corridor was empty.
He and Antonia stepped into the hallway and came face-to-face with a painting of Czar Nicholas on the opposite wall.
Antonia paused to peer at his image. “I think I can see traces of my grandfather in him,” she whispered. “It’s in the eyes and the tilt of the mouth.”
Robert stared at the man. His eyes were quite different from Antonia’s. His were a deep brown, while Antonia’s eyes had that remarkable copper hue to them. But their mouths were undeniably similar. This painting was from the czar’s youth, and the mustache he now preferred wasn’t in evidence.
Antonia turned away from the painting. “The office is this way?” She pointed to their left.
Robert nodded and began leading the way toward the door to the ambassador’s suite of rooms. Antonia followed him, and when he stopped to listen at the door, she waited silently next to him.
When he didn’t hear any voices, he gave Antonia a nod and reached for the doorknob. He wrapped his hand around the porcelain and—
“You! Stop!”
Robert whirled around as the sound of feet came pounding down the corridor toward them. Three burly-looking footmen were upon them so quickly that Robert barely had time to step in front of Antonia to shield her from them.
He came face-to-face with the man in the lead and froze for an instant.
Davydov.
Of course. It had to be Davydov.
Another man sidestepped Robert and grabbed him from behind, wrapping his arm around Robert’s neck in a choke hold that cut off his air. Davydov grabbed him by the arm, while the third man grabbed Antonia in a choke hold identical to the one disabling Robert.
“We have been waiting for you,” Davydov hissed in his ear. “The ambassador believed you would try to steal the book. I did not think you would be so reckless.”
Davydov yanked Robert closer to the door and then rapped smartly on it.
“Enter,” came a man’s voice.
Davydov pushed his way through the entrance, dragging Robert with him.
Robert could barely breathe with Davydov’s arm clamped around his throat, so he tried to swing to one side and inhale some sweet air. He caught a glimpse of Antonia before Davydov shoved him forward again. They weren’t treating her as roughly. Probably because she wasn’t struggling. Robert forced himself to submit, and after a moment, the pressure on his throat eased a little.
When he finally surveyed the room, he found Ambassador Revnik sitting in a wing-backed chair facing the fireplace, looking entirely at ease.
There, on the small round table between the two chairs, sat the church register.
But what surprised Robert the most was the other person in the room sitting in the chair opposite Revnik.
Lord Percival. The same man who had started the fire that had burned Frederick.
Lord Percival’s demeanor wasn’t as calm as the ambassador’s. In fact, the man looked horrified to see Robert.
Cold fury settled in Robert’s chest. This man— this bumbling fool— had this traitor been nestling in the bosom of society all this time? “Consorting with the enemy, Lord Percival?” Robert asked. “I must admit. You had me completely fooled. I never suspected you.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Boldness be my friend.
- William Shakespeare
This was Lord Percival? This enormous man was the one whose antics set in motion the events the night of the Koliada ball?
“What?” Lord Percival roared as he rose to his feet. “How dare you!” His trimmed beard tapered to a point, and as his face reddened with anger, Antonia decided he looked very much like
an angry Lucifer.
She would have shrunk away from him if she could have, but the arm around her neck held her in place, so she could only let out a yelp of terror. Her captor tightened his arm around her throat, making it difficult for her to breathe. She pulled at his forearm, trying to loosen it. Was he trying to silence her, or merely use her as a shield to protect himself from Lord Percival’s fury?
Ambassador Revnik’s gaze fixed on her, his dark eyes boring into hers. She saw a flicker of confusion in them. A hint of recognition that faltered as his gaze swept over her men’s attire. Then his jaw dropped as the full realization of her identity hit him.
“Are you mad?” Revnik barked at the footman with his arm around her throat. “The czar ordered that Miss Winter not be harmed! He was most explicit. Unhand her immediately. If you ever touch her again I’ll have you sent to the Crimean Peninsula!”
The terrified guard let go of Antonia so quickly that she stumbled forward and had to brace her hand against Robert’s arm so she wouldn’t fall.
The guards holding Robert released him as well, backing away as though she and Robert were plague-ridden.
Robert recovered quickly and looped a protective arm around her waist, pulling her close to his side.
Revnik waved his hand in a dismissive gesture toward the guards. The one man, Davydov, looked as though he wanted to argue but then thought better of it. The three men filed out of the room and closed the door behind them.
Lord Percival’s anger quickly fled, and he now seemed thoroughly confused. He glanced around the room as though looking for someone. “Who is ‘Miss Winter’? And who is that young man?” he asked, gesturing toward Antonia. “Why does he have the czar’s protection?”
Revnik cleared his throat and then smoothed his horseshoe-shaped beard with his thumb and forefinger. “May I present Miss Antonia Winter. Not only is she an actress of great renown, but she’s also the—” he stopped himself and cleared his throat again. “She’s also the granddaughter of the illustrious Russian artist Vladamir Nevsky.”
“Nevsky?” Lord Percival moved closer to Antonia. “And you say he’s a woman— I mean, she’s a woman?” He squinted at her and then pulled a pair of spectacles from his coat pocket and settled them in place. “Ah! I see. Yes.” He took a step back. “Rather confusing, I must say. I prefer women to dress as— well— as women. But I suppose an actress is quite capable of employing her craft in such a manner. After all, the granddaughter of the incomparable Vladamir Nevsky must be permitted to do as she pleases. It would seem that even the czar agrees.” He grinned.
Robert stared at him in stony silence.
Lord Percival cleared his throat. “I must say, Miss Winter, I am an ardent enthusiast when it comes to your grandfather’s work. I especially love his Kozinski period.”
“You aren’t alone,” she replied. As she gathered her thoughts to make a coherent reply, the surreal nature of the conversation wasn’t lost on her. “He poured much of himself into that series, and his strong emotions come through on the canvas.” Her ears rang with an odd vibration, and her voice sounded strangely hollow and distant. She glanced at Revnik, but he seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself. “However, I must admit I prefer his later work. His composition and use of texture were brilliant.”
“True, true,” Lord Percival said. “But the depth passion revealed in his earlier work was—”
“Are you going to continue nattering on about Vladamir Nevsky’s art, or can we address your treasonous acts?” Robert gave Lord Percival a look of scorn. “I happen to find the latter a much more pressing issue.”
Lord Percival looked at Robert as though he’d forgotten about him. “Why do you keep using that word? What can I possibly have done that could be considered treasonous?” He glanced from Robert to Antonia and frowned. “Do you mind telling me how you’ve come to be here? I’ve been locked inside this embassy for the past four hours and I’m certain I’ve already spoken with every other British citizen who has also been trapped here. You, sir, were most decidedly not among them.” He jutted his chin forward, indicating Robert’s coat. “Judging by your heavy winter attire, I’d wager you entered this building only moments ago.” He stroked the tip of his pointed beard. “Since the Ambassador would have already informed me if I could leave, I can only assume that you either had special permission to enter, or you broke into the embassy.” He smirked. “My guess is that it’s the latter.” He emphasized the last word, mimicking Robert’s use of it.
“Of course I broke in. Revnik left me with no other choice. The man is both audacious and rash— a bad combination. His men attacked my carriage here in London just hours ago and stole that from me.” He gestured toward the book.
Lord Percival cast the church register a doubtful gaze. Antonia couldn’t blame him. The innocuous-looking object sat on an embroidered silk runner draped over the table. Its tattered cover looked incongruous in the sumptuous room, yet it was close at hand, situated between the two chairs facing the fire, appearing like nothing more than a well-thumbed reference book. Nothing about it would make anyone presume it had any significant value. Let alone that men would go to such extreme lengths to possess it.
“There’s obviously been some misunderstanding—” Revnik began, but Antonia cut him off.
“I can assure you that Lord Wentworth is speaking the truth,” she said. “The British government wants that book. In fact, it would appear that many governments want it.”
Robert leveled his gaze on Lord Percival. “If that book remains in the ambassador’s possession, I’m quite certain the Queen will see its theft today as an act of war.”
“War?” Lord Percival repeated. “Is that why we’ve been locked in here? Is the Queen on the verge of making a declaration of war against Russia?” His eyes darted back and forth between Robert to the ambassador until they finally fixed upon Ambassador Revnik. A look of fear crept over his face, and he began to slowly back away.
Revnik raised his hand in a soothing gesture, but Lord Percival flinched at the motion. “Please, sir,” Revnik said, taking a step closer to Lord Percival. “Do not alarm yourself. I can explain everything.”
“Don’t believe a word he speaks,” Robert said. “The man lies. Frequently.”
Lord Percival edged backward toward the fireplace, his eyes widening in alarm. He reached blindly for the poker and managed to wrap his hand around it, snatching it up and raising it into the air as a weapon. But the hearth was slightly raised above the floorboards of the room, and when his heel bumped against it, he stumbled.
Lord Percival reached out to steady himself against the mantel. His aim was off and he teetered backward. In a panic, he thrust his arm against the wall and pushed himself away from the fireplace.
He raised the slim poker to balance himself as he stepped forward. His toe caught on the edge of the rug, causing him to stumble yet again.
He fell forward. His poker slammed downward and smashed into the round table. It toppled forward, causing the book and the two glasses of whiskey to come arcing toward him.
The church register seemed to sprout wings as it flew through the air, speeding directly toward the fireplace. It landed with a smack in the center of the flames, sending up a shower of sparks.
Antonia shrieked in alarm as the pages began to darken from the heat. She darted forward, ducked around Lord Percival’s flailing form, grabbed the poker from where he’d dropped it on the floor, and crawled to the fireplace.
She flipped the book out of the fire and onto the rug amid a flurry of burning embers, its leather cover smoldering. Some of the embers flew onto the silk table runner drenched with spilled whiskey, and others landed on the cushion of one of the wing-backed chairs.
Antonia stomped on the book with her heavy boots to put out the flames, but it continued to smolder.
To her horror, the table runner and the upholstered chair caught fire. Ambassador Revnik rushed over and began beating at the weak flames with the flat of his
hand.
Antonia tugged at the muffler wound around her neck. When she finally yanked it free, she dropped to her knees and carefully wrapped the scorched book in the length of wool, smothering the last of the glowing orange embers that edged the pages.
“Fire!” the ambassador shouted as more of the greedy embers burst into flames. Free of the confines of the fireplace, small blazes began cropping up throughout the room’s interior. “Fire!”
The three guards came running back into the room. They barely noticed Antonia as they attacked the flames. Antonia scooped up the muffler with its precious contents and scurried out of their way.
She gave the men a wide berth. Everyone was focused on dealing with the catastrophe. Even Lord Percival had managed to stumble to his feet.
As she watched, he threw open a window. A frigid gust of wind swirled into the room, fanning the flames and causing them to burn higher.
Antonia touched Robert’s arm to catch his attention. She tilted her head toward the unguarded door. He followed her gaze and then nodded. She took her chance and darted through it with Robert close on her heels.
They tore down the hallway and she threw open the door across from Czar Nicholas’s portrait. Robert shoved it closed and then used the key to lock it.
How would she climb the rope carrying the book? She glanced down at the muffler-wrapped package and then remembered the technique Robert had used when he’d stolen it. He’d tucked it down his trousers. She quickly crammed the bundle under the front of her waistband and then refastened her coat buttons. It felt snug and secure against her belly. She should be able to climb the rope without fear of losing it.
Just as Robert pulled open the window sash, Antonia heard the doorknob rattle. They both froze, afraid to make a sound. Muffled voices said something indistinguishable, and then heavy feet hurried off.
“You first,” Robert whispered. “I’ll close the window behind us.”
Antonia gave a jerky nod. Climbing back up that rope would be much more difficult. It was time to live up to her boast about her rope-climbing abilities. She could do it, she knew she could, but the three-story drop below made her nervous.
Once Upon a Spy: A Secrets and Seduction Book Page 37
