Which meant it had been an issue.
But what? What had been the issue?
“The olive oil has been shipped?” Another question.
“The trade of the olive oil has been at a record price.” A chuckle followed the last statement. “People are tiring of the counterfeit quality of the current… product.”
The information was helpful, but what she needed were names, faces, -- the people who were making this happen behind the scenes.
And then the War Office’s officials would arrest them and foil any attempt.
It seemed simple, but it rarely was.
She inched forward and then turned to Emerson.“Follow me,”she mouthed.
With a very decidedly flirtatious giggle, she slammed against the wall and let out a sigh. Tugging on his coat, she pulled him against her and took several steps toward the dim light spilling onto the floor from the open door. She crooned, her tone obnoxiously loud in the quiet hall. Emerson groaned, and she giggled again, playing the part that would cause the least amount of suspicion.
“Ah, fate is on my side. A room.” He spoke the words a little louder than necessary, but Jaxsen simply giggled and made a mad dash for the room as if racing him.
“Only if you can catch me!.” she called out.
Initially, the voices had hushed to utter silence, and then as if realizing what was happening wasn’t a threat as much as it was simply bad luck, the whispers intensified as if debating the next move.
Jaxsen reached the threshold of the door, a large flirtatious and what she hoped seemed slightly drunk smile across her face. She froze, her eyes widening before she squealed and stumbled back then ran away like a woman caught in a compromising situation.
Emerson called after her as if surprised by her quick rejection, and then he jogged after her. She could hear his footsteps as she raced back to the alcove, darted through the door, and past the curtains into the crowded ballroom. She glanced behind her and reached for Emerson’s hand then pulled him into the sea of humanity, keeping her head low as she glanced behind them for any followers.
When the curtain shifted as if someone had opened the door again, she hid behind a footman carrying a tray, and Emerson turned his back. A gentleman in an evening kit wearing a mask was impossible to find in the throng of a hundred others. After a moment, Jaxsen nodded to Emerson, and they made their way from the ballroom and out to the front of the estate to their waiting carriage.
It was only when they were starting down the road that Jaxsen slipped off her mask and regarded Emerson.
“We have a problem.” She spoke with a sober tone.
“I’m guessing we have more than one.”
“They aren’t freeing Napoleon,” she revealed.
“Oh?” Emerson leaned forward.
“No.” she replied. “They already have.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Pardon?” Emerson leaned forward in the carriage; his brows furrowed with confusion.
“They already have. They are talking about a coup of the current French king. And the olive branch? That’s one of his main generals. Never once had I heard of Napoleon referred as an olive anything, but he fought several battles in Italy, and one general was favored. He was the olive branch. He’s who Napoleon is waiting for before he makes his move.”
“Well, that changes things.”
“Indeed. Because this stretches further than France.” She gave a frustrated sigh then continued as if the words were nearly an afterthought. “Tomorrow, I expect we’ll get a missive that warns that Napoleon is no longer on Elba.”
“Damn and blast.”
“Indeed. But it makes sense,” Jaxsen continued, her gaze unfocused as she swayed with the motion of the carriage. She was brilliant, brazenly approaching the room, and he was certain no detail escaped her quick memorization.
“Who all was in the room?”
“Wessix, Daverson, and four other men who said something in French when I burst in the room. Along the back wall were two women, both wearing the masks that were slightly different than the rest. From the size and stature, one was Madame Mersallie, and the other was probably her sister in law.”
