The dowager’s assessment proved to be correct. The lady was delighted to talk about her Russian relative, making it quite clear that she had always viewed the match as slightly scandalous. Major Prescott’s mother was indeed a princess of the Dolgorukov family, which in turn was a cadet branch of the Obolensky princely family. The three of them were obliged to listen to a great many other details, none of which shed any further light on whether the major’s mother had any connection to the Orlov family. Still . . .
“That bit of information should be of interest to Grentham,” murmured Arianna after they finally managed to take their leave from the garrulous Lady Dixwell.
“Why don’t I rejoin Gerard?” suggested the dowager. “He is friendly with Raznikov, one of the high-ranking Russian envoys stationed here in London, so perhaps we can learn whether the late Mrs. Prescott was in any way connected to the Orlovs.”
“Do it discreetly,” Arianna reminded her. “We don’t want anyone to notice our interest in Russian affairs, especially given the baroness’s murder.”
“My dear, I’m no stranger to court intrigue,” replied the dowager. “During the years right after the French Revolution, our present king’s palace was a magnet for every schemer and scoundrel in Europe.”
Arianna smiled. “And I’ve no doubt that you were more than a match for all of them. Still, it does no harm to remember that we need to err on the side of caution. Grentham is of the opinion that whoever is behind the trouble in St. Petersburg is exceedingly dangerous.”
Constantina acknowledged the warning with a grim nod before heading for the upper terrace.
“Shall we take a stroll around the perimeter path?” asked Sophia. “Perhaps we’ll encounter—”
“Miss Kirtland. Lady Saybrook.”
Arianna turned at the sound of the familiar voice. “Captain Leete! I thought I had missed the pleasure of seeing you here in London.”
“Luckily for me, the generals at Horse Guards decided that I should remain in Town for several more days. I leave tomorrow evening.” He shot Sophia a broad smile. “You’ve won an ardent admirer, Miss Kirtland. Prescott was just waxing poetic to me about your riding skills.”
Sophia colored.
“If it’s not too ungodly an hour,” he continued, “perhaps you would care to meet for a last gallop in the park tomorrow morning at nine o’clock?”
Arianna had noticed Leete’s interest in her friend during their sojourn in Paris. Sophia had given him little encouragement, but she wondered if that might now change.
“That would be lovely,” replied Sophia, another blush ridging her cheekbones.
“Are you enjoying your posting in Paris?” asked Arianna, giving her friend a chance to settle her emotions. The three of them quickly fell into a comfortable conversation, exchanging news about their mutual friends and laughing over several of Leete’s anecdotes concerning his military superiors.
“Lieutenant Foxton and Major Trumbull are here at the party,” said Leete, “and I know they would very much enjoy chatting with you ladies. Shall we go join them?”
Sophia, who had practiced her shooting skills with the two young officers while in Paris, immediately agreed.
“The two of you go,” said Arianna. “I’ll join you shortly.”
Sophia raised a questioning brow, but on catching Arianna’s eye, she merely nodded and offered her arm to Leete. “Very well.”
Chapter7
After watchingSophia and Leete round the ornamental privet hedge, Arianna hurried down one of the side paths that wound deeper into the outer sections of the garden. The foliage was thicker here, softening the sounds of the revelries. After another few turns, all she could hear was the gentle rustling of the leaves in the freshening breeze. Thankful for the solitude—there was no sign of anyone else around—Arianna made her way to a small wrought-iron pergola whose decorative scrollwork was overgrown with ivy.
A peek through the narrow opening showed a lone wooden bench inside. Brushing back the overhanging leaves, she entered and took a seat.
The interior shadows were soothing after the color and flash of the party. Leaning back, Arianna slowly felt the tension unwind inside her. The last hour had made one thing starkly clear.
“I need to decide once and for all whether I really want to return to the fray.”
Her whisper hung in the air, heavy with unanswered questions. There could be no shilly-shallying, no pretense.
No lies—not to herself, nor to others.
To undertake a mission without wholehearted confidence in her abilities would not only put herself in danger but also pose a threat to those she loved. A flinch, a hesitation at the wrong instant could mean the difference between life and death.
Arianna closed her eyes. However painful, she needed to confront the crux of the problem. Over the past few months, she had overheard Saybrook and Henning discussing her mental state. Henning was of the opinion that until she forgave herself for what had happened, she would never fully recover from the trauma.
Everyone had told her she was not to blame, and Henning had backed up the assertion with his medical expertise.
