“It’s clear that she blames herself,” added Saybrook. “And ignores any suggestion to the contrary.”
“But Baz has explained that the mishap on themontaigne russein Paris couldnothave been the cause . ..” Sophia hesitated.
The mention of the elaborate wooden mountain—complete with wheeled sleds that hurtled down a steep incline on railed tracks—caused both of them to draw in a troubled breath. A popular entertainment in the parks of Paris, brought to the city by the Russian soldiers of the Allied army just after their momentous victory over Napoleon at Waterloo, the so-called Russian Mountain had been the scene of a terrible accident. In chasing a treasonous enemy whose diabolical plot threatened to throw Britain into chaos, Arianna had found herself hurtling down the tracks on a sled whose safety ropes had been cut. Certain death had loomed. But Lord Grentham, the shadowy head of state security, had managed to catch up and pull her to safety, though not without a tumbling fall.
“If it had, the miscarriage would have happened within the next few days.” Sophia twisted at the fringe of her shawl. “The fact that we had all been back in London nearly a fortnight means that wasn’t to blame.”
“Emotion rarely listens to reason,” said Saybrook tightly. “We need to find a way to pull her back to her real self.” He pressed a hand to his brow. “But damned if I know how.”
“We’ll find a way,” replied Sophia, though her voice betrayed a quiver of uncertainty. “For now, she needssome fresh air and sunshine to bring the color back to her face.” She rose. “Shall I go see if I can convince her to accompany me on a walk to the park?”
“I would be grateful if you could get her to leave the cave-like confines of her study,” he admitted. “She’s drawn all the draperies, so it’s dark as a crypt.”
“Leave it to me.” Sophia rose. “Perhaps,” she mused, a martial frown narrowing her eyes, “it’s time we stopped handling her with kidskin gloves.”
Saybrook looked surprised . . . and then thoughtful.
Sophia didn’t wait for a reply. She hurried from the room and headed up the stairs.
The door to Arianna’s study was closed. When a discreet knock brought no response, she rapped again, this time a little louder.
Still nothing.
“Damnation,” she muttered under her breath, then clicked the latch open and shouldered her way in. The room was dark save for a single oil lamp lit on the worktable. Arianna looked around from the pile of paper, her face ghostly pale in its glow.
“I’m afraid I’m busy right now—” began Arianna.
Ignoring her friend, Sophia marched to the windows and threw open the draperies.
Arianna winced and turned away from the sunlight.
“No wonder you’re withering on the vine,” said Sophia. “Living, breathing organisms need air and light and sustenance in order to thrive!”
“Thank you for the biology lesson,” came the taut reply. “May I now get back to my work?”
“No. you may not.” Sophia cast a critical look at the silk wrapper covering Arianna’s nightgown. “You are going to get dressed and come take a walk with me in the park.”
“I . . .” Arianna squared her shoulders. “I don’t feel up it.”
“Then we shall stop in the kitchen for some cacao wafers,” announced Sophia. “I seem to recall you telling me that the Aztec warriors used them to fortify their strength for the long marches through the jungle to do battle.”
Arianna looked about to say something, then seemed to think better of it.
Sophia moved to the open doorway. “Maria!” she called, summoning Arianna’s maid. “Kindly lay out a walking dress for Milady. As well as a pelisse and shawl. The breeze is a trifle brisk this afternoon.”
“I didn’t say I would—”
“Nonetheless . . .” Sophia returned and took her friend firmly by the arm. “You are coming with me.”
Arianna maintaineda stoic silence as they turned down Stanhope Street and passed through the gate into Hyde Park. A part of her was furious with Sophia for badgering her out of the quiet confines of her study. But as the grass-scented breeze tugged at the loose curls beneath her bonnet and a flutter of sunlight kissed her cheeks, she found her anger giving way to . . .
“Admit it.” Sophia ventured a sidelong glance at her. “This was not a bad idea.”
Arianna watched a falling leaf catch in the breeze and swirl up, a flutter of crimson against the cerulean blue sky. In answer, she released a pent-up sigh. “I know you all want me to be happy, but . . .”
They continued walking along the footpath, their half-boots stirring puffs of pale dust.
“But only you can decide when to cast off your grief and move on,” murmured Sophia.
