Page 18 of A Swirl of Shadows
“I told him about finding the slip of paper with my name,” continued Arianna. “But he seemed anxious to talk with you about your encounter with Madame Gruzinsky.”
“He knows where I reside if he wishes to speak with me,” replied Sophia. The frigid tone dispelled any doubt that things were fraught between her and the minister.
Sophia’s horse snorted and shifted impatiently, its hooves kicking up clots of earth.
“Then I shall leave it for the two of you to work out,” said Arianna, careful to keep her voice neutral. Personal emotions could be painful enough without having well-meaning friends poke at a raw wound.
After adding a murmured goodbye, she turned for the footpath.
“Wait!” Sophia slid down from the saddle and waved for her groom, who had been waiting discreetly in the shade of the trees. “I’ll have Ned take my horse to the stables and walk back to Berkeley Square with you.”
They fell in step together, the fallen leaves crunching softly under their boots. Arianna signaled for her maid to drop back to a more discreet distance and then waited patiently for her friend to speak.
Or perhaps Sophia simply wanted silent sympathy.
Crunch, crunch.
On second thought, Arianna decided to break the ice.Talking was always better than brooding.
“I take it you and Grentham have fallen out?”
Sophia blew out a harried breath. “That assumes we’ve actually spoken enough to have any disagreement flare up.”
“Grentham takes his responsibilities to heart. I imagine it’s been a very difficult and demanding task to repair the damage done by the conspirators,” observed Arianna, “as well as ensure that no villains are left lurking within the various government departments.”
“I . . .” Her friend’s words caught for an instant in her throat. “I understand all that. But I had thought that he might consider me . . .” A sigh. “Not a responsibility, but something more than . . .”
Crunch, crunch.
“Sorry, I can’t seem to articulate the welter of emotions I’m feeling inside.”
“Perhaps because the complexities of Love defy words,” said Arianna with a gentle smile.
The observation earned a sardonic laugh. “Whatever emotions gripped Grentham for a short while, I must have been delusional to think that love was one of them.”
Arianna didn’t answer. What could she possibly say that wouldn’t sound like a platitude?
“What a bloody fool I am,” muttered Sophia.
“One is never a fool to feel love. No matter how much it hurts.”
“The poets all say you are right.” Sophia surrendered another sigh. “But somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“The heart rarely listens to the head—which I suppose is both a blessing and a curse,” answered Arianna. “The point is, you can’t let fear or disappointment take control of your life and trap you in a netherworld of shadows, feeling damned if you do and damned if you don’t.”
The footpath led them out of the copse of trees and into the meadow by the Stanhope Gate. A dog barked. Two boys cut in front of them, whooping with laughter as they chased after an errant ball.
“And be assured that I’m aware of the irony of my giving such advice,” said Arianna dryly. “Let us both try to heed my words.”
Chapter6
The soundsof a string quartet swirled in the breeze, the lilting Haydn melody punctuated by the trills of laughter rising up from the townhouse gardens. Having greeted the host and hostess of the Venetian Breakfast, Arianna and Saybrook stood at the stone balustrade of the terrace overlooking the grounds, watching the guests stroll along the walkways that wound through the autumn-tinged greenery to where a sumptuous outdoor buffet and numerous gaming tables had been set up for their enjoyment.
“Lord and Lady Cruft appear to have spared no expense to create a festive mood,” said the earl, surveying the surroundings. Brass lanterns adorned the pathways, the bright flames adding flashes to the sunlight and colorful pavilions dotting the lawns, which were manned by liveried servants dispensing goblets filled with iced champagne.
“Ah, there’s Charles,” said Arianna, spotting a familiar figure among the group of gentlemen standing by an ornate stone fountain. The previous evening, Saybrook had learned that his uncle had also been invited to the party. “Is he as worried as Grentham is about whether the Foreign Office still harbors gentlemen whose loyalty to Britain are suspect?”
“Charles tends to have a more optimistic view of the world than the minister. But he’s not naïve enough to think that greed and self-interest aren’t seductive,” answered Saybrook. “The ongoing negotiations at the Peace Conference in Vienna involve crucial decisions, such as drawing new borders for the war-torn countries of Europe and new regulations for international commerce. Both of which have momentous economic—and thus financial—implications.”
