39Alexandre was lying on his bed in the west wing of the château, looking up at the ceiling as he liked to do and trying his best to wait patiently. To amuse himself he remembered holding La Sfortuna in his hand, how it had actually been hard to catch his breath. Weeks ago, the baroness had promised him thirty percent if he found it, and once Molly had done the work for him, it had taken very little encouragement on his part for Antoinette to agree to give him twenty percent even though he had not found it—he had reached for her arm and squeezed it a little too hard, given her a look, that was all.
He was a master of implication, and let the baroness’s imagination fill in the rest.
Yet in less than an hour she had managed to leave the château with that weasel of a son, and Alexandre was
