Read Online Hatshepsut's Collar (The Artifact Hunters #2) by A.W. Exley - Free Book Online

outfit was warm and would keep out the encroaching chill of the autumn air, and the dreary dampness of the Tower. Atop her head perched a pillbox hat of shaved ermine with a draping black veil.
    Cara stared at her reflection in the wall of mirrors. The woman staring back was the epitome of chic in a style more fluid and revealing than any member of the ton would dare wear, although the demi-monde would heartily approve. It was also the single most expensive outfit she had ever owned. As she walked back to the carriage with measured steps, she saw Jackson’s jaw drop open.
    Rendered speechless, his cigarette hung limply from his bottom lip.
    “No smart comment?” she teased as she waited for him to remember to open the carriage door and drop down the steps.
    “Give me a moment, doll.” He tapped the side of his head. “Blurdy clock upstairs has stopped ticking.”

ara stood on the pavement and stared at the brooding mass of the Tower of London, the city base of Her Majesty’s Royal Aeronautical Service. With stone blackened by centuries of London grime, the entire structure exuded a dark and dangerous air, even without the attached millennia of bloody history. Military airships were tethered to the larger structures of Legge’s Mount and Brass Mount. Bowlines and cables secured them to the ancient fortress, running back and forth like giant streamers. The silver mesh protecting the air bladders caught the sunlight, turning the ships into gigantic Christmas ornaments at strange odds with the lump of coal anchoring them.
    A raven peered down at Cara from its perch high on the Casemates. The bird gave a single caw and flapped ebony wings, and she couldn’t help the shudder that ran through her body. She passed under the Middle Tower and walked up the broad cobbled road to the gate. Numerous curious eyes, both human and raven, watched her progress. She halted at the barred and guarded gate of Byward Tower to confront the guards with their brilliant red uniforms and shaved fur hats.
    “I need to see the Constable of the Tower.” Her gaze flicked over the armed men guarding the perimeter.
    One of the guards separated from the others and moved forward. “And you are?” He issued his enquiry from under the soft black fringe of his hat. He slung his rifle over his shoulder, as he stood in front of her.
    Cara held her spine straight, remembering the role she must play to earn her freedom. “Lady Lyons. My husband is currently residing within at Her Majesty’s leisure.”
    He gave her a flat look and turned to speak to the guard standing behind him. The second cast a curious look her way before striding to the small room inset beside the heavy iron portcullis. Cara could see him through the little window. He picked up the end of a long, black tube with a silver end, rather like a bath tub plug. He talked into the plug, his gaze flitting to her and back to the tube. A quick nod and he replaced the speaking hose on a hook and exited the small guardhouse.
    “The constable will see you, milady. If you would follow me?”
    Another guard unlocked the door inside the portcullis, and swung it open for Cara to step within the ancient fortress. With slow steps, they made their way through the dark alleyway and then turned left, walking the outer ward in the shadow of the looming casements. Her guide led her under an arch in Beauchamp Tower and out into the sunshine and peace of the Tower green. It would be a picturesque spot if not for its bloody history. Cara averted her eyes from the scaffolding. Thanks to the Victorian age of enlightenment, traitors were no longer separated from their heads. Executioners used the more humane method of hanging enemies to Victoria’s Empire, and it prolonged the entertainment for the crowds, taking bets on whether the drop killed the unfortunate criminal or asphyxiation.
    She picked at the ermine edge of her skirt as she walked, needing a distraction to stop her eyes from fixating on the gallows,