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"Sire, a dispatch arrived from Paris. From Duc d'Otrante. Marked 'Extremely Urgent.'"
"What is it, Meneval?"
Claude-Francois Baron de Meneval took his time to respond.
"What is it?" Napoleon repeated impatiently.
"Murder, Sire. Lady Margaret, the Empress's lady-in-waiting, was found dead in the antechamber at the Empress's bedroom. Madame Josephine is extremely upset. She believed that Lady Margaret prevented the assassination attempt by the price of her own life..."
She could be his wife, but she was not. He could be her husband, but he was not.
Something came across the lives of those two people: Kevin Harrison and Lionna Dorset, making it impossible to think about marriage.
It was the murder of her uncle, George Dorset the Fifth, a wealthy shipowner.
Brian pulled out one of his favorite Cuban cigars, chopped off the end of the cigar with a silver cutter, and used a silver lighter to bring a small blue flame to lit it.
"Let us say I came here posthaste to save a certain fair lady from a destiny worse than death."
"Meaning?" Looking to the skies, Alice drew from her Turkish cigarette in an ivory holder.
"Jail," said Brian laconically, and sent a string of perfect smoke rings to the air, one after another.
"Jail?" Her laugh was like a silver bell. "Who would dare to arrest Princess Alice Menshikoff, the grandniece of the czar?"
"No one." Brian nodded. "But they would gladly arrest Nancy Walker from Chicago."
"Poor girl," murmured Alice. "I already feel sorry for her. What has she done, Brian?"
"There were a couple of bank robberies in Chicago three months ago on the tune of two million dollars in gold..."
"What is it, Meneval?"
Claude-Francois Baron de Meneval took his time to respond.
"What is it?" Napoleon repeated impatiently.
"Murder, Sire. Lady Margaret, the Empress's lady-in-waiting, was found dead in the antechamber at the Empress's bedroom. Madame Josephine is extremely upset. She believed that Lady Margaret prevented the assassination attempt by the price of her own life..."
She could be his wife, but she was not. He could be her husband, but he was not.
Something came across the lives of those two people: Kevin Harrison and Lionna Dorset, making it impossible to think about marriage.
It was the murder of her uncle, George Dorset the Fifth, a wealthy shipowner.
Brian pulled out one of his favorite Cuban cigars, chopped off the end of the cigar with a silver cutter, and used a silver lighter to bring a small blue flame to lit it.
"Let us say I came here posthaste to save a certain fair lady from a destiny worse than death."
"Meaning?" Looking to the skies, Alice drew from her Turkish cigarette in an ivory holder.
"Jail," said Brian laconically, and sent a string of perfect smoke rings to the air, one after another.
"Jail?" Her laugh was like a silver bell. "Who would dare to arrest Princess Alice Menshikoff, the grandniece of the czar?"
"No one." Brian nodded. "But they would gladly arrest Nancy Walker from Chicago."
"Poor girl," murmured Alice. "I already feel sorry for her. What has she done, Brian?"
"There were a couple of bank robberies in Chicago three months ago on the tune of two million dollars in gold..."
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