Page 60 of A Swirl of Shadows
Saybrook considered the information. “We’ll need to arrange for transport, along with a crew who will keep quiet about their activities.”
“Do we dare ask Prescott to assist?” ventured Sophia. “None of us speak more than a few words of Russian. Nor are we familiar with the waterfront, and who can and can’t be trusted.”
Arianna remained silent, allowing Saybrook to answer.
He shifted, taking time to weigh the options. “I think not,” he finally said. “The major gave me no reason to question his motives today as we sought clues to the disappearance of our friends. But still, I would rather err on the side of caution.”
The earl glanced around, aware that the palace walls were rife with lurking ears. “As for not speaking Russian, that’s not an impediment. There is a universal language for those who move within the shadowy world of less-than-legal activities. St. Petersburg is a city filled with international intrigue, so I’m certain there will be captains-for-hire who speak English, French, or Spanish. Our footmen will have no trouble making the arrangements—José and Tomás are experienced in dealing with this sort of thing and know how to sniff out kindred souls.”
“I agree,” said Arianna.
Sophia made no protest.
“Can it be done tonight?” added Arianna. “The quicker we strike, thebetter the chance of catching our adversaries off guard.”
“And yet moving too fast increases the chance of making a mistake,” mused Saybrook. “Which we can’t afford.”
He thought for a long moment. “I’ll slip away now and send them off to the waterfront. The two of you should stay here for an hour or two. Eyes are always watching here at the Imperial Court, so it’s best not to draw attention by the three of us leaving together at such an early hour.”
The swish of silk, the trill of laughter, the fizz of sparkling wine . . . all around was naught but the carefree sounds of an endless party.
“When you return home, we’ll see how our plan is progressing.”
He was right, of course, but Arianna couldn’t help feeling a stab of impatience. Fitzroy and Wolff were in grave danger.
And I must stand here smiling and sipping champagne.
“Speaking of mistakes,” said Sophia abruptly. “I may be seeing naught but specters, but I feel beholden to mention that just now, while I was waiting for Arianna, I spotted someone following me.”
“What makes you think that?” asked Saybrook.
“After first noticing him, I deliberately moved to the tea salon for ladies, and then to the withdrawing room, where I lingered for some time. In each case, he was lurking nearby, and though he moved stealthily, I took enough twists and turns to feel fairly certain that I’m not mistaken.”
“As newly arrived foreigners, there are any number of reasons that someone might be curious,” said the earl. “We know that intrigue is a way of life here at court.” His mouth thinned. “However, you’re right to mention it. Let us all stay alert.”
Arianna darted another look around, unable to ignore the chill tickling against her flesh. “You had better go, Sandro,” she murmured, seeing that Prescott had finished conversing with several Russian military officers and was looking around the room. “And godspeed.”
The earl was gone before the major spotted them and started to make his way through the crowd.
“And how did you ladies occupy yourselves today?’ he inquired after joining them.
“By spending time in the kitchen,” replied Arianna. “It’s been quite a whirlwind of activity since we arrived. I find cooking is relaxing.”
Prescott cleared his throat with a cough. “Do you enjoy cooking, too, Miss Kirtland?”
Sophia smiled. “Alas, I have no expertise in the art of cuisine. I’m afraid I merely gobble down way too many of Lady Saybrook’s sinfully rich chocolate confections when they pop out of the oven.” A pause. “I must have a care, or I will find myself growing stout.”
The major responded with a polite chuckle, but Arianna saw an admiring gleam in his eyes. Sophia seemed unaware of how often she drew a gentleman’s gaze. Perhaps her shadowy follower was merely a new admirer.
The sound of music swirled out from the adjoining ballroom. “By the by,” said Prescott, “there is a performance of Russian folk dancing about to start. Would you care to have a look? The costumes and acrobatics are quite striking. The Cossack sword dance is particularly impressive.”
“You two go on,” said Arianna. Since the opportunity presented itself, she decided to pay a quick visit to Countess Litta, who was holding court in her salon at this hour. “I’ll join you shortly.”
Along with bringing the special confections for the Tsar, she had thought to tuck a small box of chocolates into her reticule. One never knew when a bribe might prove useful. Arianna was sure that the lady knew something important. However, she also recognized that giving direct answers to questions wasn’t how the game was played at the Imperial Court. Information must be teased out in an elaborate ritual of innuendos and insinuations.
Perhaps another taste of sinfully rich chocolate could coax a few more hints out of the countess.
However, Lady Litta had not reached her position of power and influence by giving away her secrets easily. She was a master of deflection and ambiguity. Her words were like smoke—try to grasp them and one’s fingers merely clutched at thin air.
