The rain broke on the fourth day as the two figures rode into Dijon. Olivia had traded her usual Musketeer garb for dark, nondescript clothes covered with a greatcoat and hood before they set out. She didn't want to be easily identified. Abbie was wrapped deep in a cloak, but the long trek in the harsh weather had left her soaked through the layers of her dress and generally miserable. The sun was balanced just on the horizon and the streets were clearing out. They passed few people on their way into town, leaving the impression of a gloomy dark ghost town. The horses' hooves echoed against the walls of buildings loudly.
They found an inn just as the gloaming became oppressive. Olivia dropped off her horse straight into a puddle. She swore under her breath as dirty water began to seep into her boots. Abbie laughed at her discomfort, dismounting with enviable grace. A stable boy dashed out, grabbing the reins and leading the horses away while Olivia held the front door for Abbie to enter. Inside, the inn's common room was as shabby as its exterior. It was dark, shadows gathering in the corners and dancing in the firelight. A large fireplace provided the main source of light, augmented by candles on a few of the dingy tables. Olivia immediately regretted their choice of venue, but she was too tired to even consider remounting her horse.
Olivia haggled with the innkeeper over their room while Abbie wandered around the room. She couldn't help but notice there was no other guests, which seemed odd to her at that time of the evening but she didn't mention it to Olivia. Their room was cold and dusty, like they hadn't been used or aired in a while, which didn't seem in the least bit surprising.
"Did you have to pick the rattiest hole in the entire city for us to stay in on this godforsaken gallivant?" Abbie's brogue was thick, which was how Olivia could read her deep annoyance. The dark haired woman wrinkled her nose and did her best to get ready for bed without touching any surfaces. Olivia watched her from her position on the bed, pulling off her heavy boots. She couldn't help but smirk.
"I know its not what you are used to, Shamrock, but I'm not made of money." Olivia dropped one heavy boot and then the other beside the bed. She needed to keep her hands busy, to stop them from shaking. She was so close to Alexandra now. The phantom caress of her fingertips and the taste of her lips and tongue were driving her insane.
Abbie threw the dingy towel that had been hanging on the washbasin at Olivia. It was her turn to wrinkle her nose, but she was grateful for the opportunity to dry her damp hair. "Well, next time I offer to help you save your lady love, I am going to insist that put me up somewhere with a little more sophistication."
"Somewhere on the beach?" Olivia shot back.
"Only if it is sunny." Olivia was too tired to keep up the banter. She tossed the towel back at Abbie and then flopped back onto the bed. She was asleep before Abbie finished putting her nightgown on.
#
Elias struggled for days to cover for Captain Benoit's absence. First he wiped out the excuse that she was ill, and the Viscount didn't appear particularly concerned. But Elias knew it wouldn't stay that way forever, the Viscount was intent on moving up in the world and he had already plotted his path by climbing over the Captain and his less stellar family name. By the third day the Viscount was becoming antsy to discuss troop rotation and how it would affect the King's procession to Spain for the marriage of the Duc's daughter. Elias begged off, claiming that the Captain was highly contagious and that it was in the Viscount's best interest not to catch it.
He swallowed his resentment at the Captain's unexplained absence, but their friendship had pulled him out of many tight places in the past and he wasn't about to throw Olivier to the wolves. He just didn't know how long he could keep things buttoned down. Elias figured by the time this was all over, he would deserve a medal, or a promotion. However, baring the outbreak of a major military action, it was unlikely that the Captain's disappearance would negatively impact that daily business of the palace Musketeers. Elias had watched the Captain over the years, he could hold it together. He hoped.
#
Alexandra Cabot was seated in a ray of sunlight that matched the glorious color of the cascade of hair that fell around her shoulders. She dropped her embroidery into her lap when one of her lady's maids opened the door and announced the arrival of Lady Abigail Carmichael. Her heart missed a beat. Everything had seemed very gray since she had returned home, and the last of the color and warmth had finally escaped her life when her father announced to her over dinner one evening that he had agreed to have her marry Cesar Velez – an advantageous match for the Cabot family. She had sent the letter as a last effort to reach out to the woman who made her feel so alive, the woman who was a permanent part of her now. Olivia was under her skin, like an exquisite ache.
The maid held open the door and a slender, raven-haired woman sauntered in. Alexandra reminded herself to breath. Abigail was exactly everything that Alexandra was afraid she would be. She was beautiful and she oozed an easy sensuality that insinuated sexuality into each movement of her lean limbs. No wonder she was so important to Olivia.
Alexandra set her embroidery on the table beside her and rose, offering her hand to the other woman. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle Carmichael. I have heard so much about you." In times of great stress, Alexandra fell back on her aristocratic manners to shield her vulnerability.
The two women were obviously sizing each other up. Abbie let her eyes drink in the vision in front of her. Alexandra was an absolute vision – soft gold and perfectly smooth ivory. Olivia always had good taste. She shamelessly allowed her gaze to linger at the swell of bosom that Alexandra's expensively tailored dress showcased. When Alexandra blushed, Abbie knew that her attention had not gone unnoticed.
"The pleasure is all mine, Lady Cabot." Abbie squeezed Alexandra's fingers lightly before releasing them. She took the seat that Alexandra indicated across from her own and they both sat. "I hear you have had some good news – your impending nuptials."
Alexandra flinched at the reminder of her situation. The brunette knew just where to stick the knife. She folded her hands in her lap, twining her fingers together tightly. "Yes. My father tells me that it is an excellent match for our family." Where was Olivia? She had never met Abbie and her appearance here was not a definitive indication that the Musketeer cared at all for her situation. She frowned as a thought crossed her mind – had Abbie heard about their affair and been jealous? Had she come to torment Alexandra?
Jealousy squeezed Abbie's chest. It had gnawed at her for some time, on and off. She had pushed it down for Olivia's sake. She had done too much to Olivia to expect her undying devotion after it all. But Alexandra was absolutely ridiculous. She looked like an angel and Abbie felt awkward and dark next to her.
"An excellent match for you. Princess consort of Spain. Surely such a lofty position is also a lonely one."
An opening – Alexandra considered. Verbal jousting was the only sport that Alexandra excelled at, but the last six months had worn down her former zest. Bringing up Olivia now could be exactly what Abbie wanted, either because she had been sent by her, or because she wanted to dig the knife in deeper. Better to bleed to death in front of this woman then to live her life wondering.
"No games. What are you here for, Lady Carmichael?"
"I'm here to help you."
Alexandra bit down on her lower lip to keep from letting slip more then she meant to. "I'm not sure that I understand your meaning, Lady Carmichael." To keep her hands busy, she grabbed her embroidery and began to work the needle through the fabric. The light blue thread slid through the fine linen with little effort, standing out in stark contrast. "You'll need to make yourself a little more plain." Abbie leaned over for a better view of the pattern which the blonde was creating and she recognized it immediately. It took her a moment to place it, though – the crest of the Benoit family, like the one in the lid of Olivia's familiar old chest.
"Oh, I think you do." Abbie gestured at the fabric, eliciting a blush from the blonde as her hands stilled. The thread, Abbie mused, was the exact same shade as Alexandra's eyes.
"Then, you're here with Captain Benoit?" Alexandra stumbled over the name, her voice cracking. Every night since she returned home she had dreamed of the Musketeer and awoken with her name on her lips but it was the first time she had even dreamed of saying it out loud.
The breathy quality of her tone was not lost on Abbie. Jealousy tore at her gut again. The uncontrollable urge to simply walk out nearly overcame Abbie, but she knew there was no way to explain that to Olivia, and no way to win Olivia back afterwards. She drummed her fingers against her knee to diffuse the nervous energy.
"Yes. But I'm sure you can understand why it is important that it remains quiet." Abbie swallowed visibly. "But, the Captain wanted me to come and to see you so I could assure –" she nearly said 'her' and then caught herself. Anyone could be listening and while it wasn't unusual for aristocratic women to have dalliances or unrequited passions for dashing military men, it would be disastrous for this military man's secret to come out. "—Him that you are well and…happy. And to let you know that he is working on a solution to your problem as soon as possible."
"You may tell the Captain I am well, but I could not lie and say that I am happy." Alexandra's hands began to move again. The needle in and out, in and out as the blue thread crawled across the linen. It was a shield, edged in light blue. She had already selected the gold thread for the helmet that sat atop the shield and the lion rampant that filled its interior. The exact shade of blue to fill the background of the shield had eluded her. She had intended to go into market the next day to try to find a suitable one. Fortuitous timing. "Tell him that I miss him and I look forward to seeing him."
Abbie nodded and then stood. The room was suffocating her. The love streaming out of Alexandra's eyes was killing her. She was going to choke but she remembered her manners, extending her hand to squeeze Alexandra's again and then kissing the air beside her cheek before silently taking her leave.
#
The swarthy man had been sent by Velez and the Duc had promptly ignored his existence after they had finished the negotiations over the marriage. He had spent weeks memorizing the face of all the maids, the local gentry who were frequent guests and the townspeople with whom the Duc did business. Abigail Carmichael was none of those people. When she left Alexandra's rooms, he followed her. He made a note of her horse and then quickly made his own way to the stables to retrieve his mount. Velez had been very specific in his instructions – anything unusual was to be investigated fully and reported immediately. Velez was unpleasantly paranoid, but the man appreciated his generous purse.
