“Yes, he thought so, too,” said Saybrook, ignoring the major’s note of irony.
Prescott’s response was an enigmatic smile. “I regret that my seasickness prevented me from making his acquaintance. And us from getting to know each other better.”
He paused, looking as if he was choosing his words with care. “I know that our, shall we say, mutual friend is of the opinion that we should pursue our objectives on our own. But as a fellow military man, Milord, you know that when your forces are split up on the battlefield and unaware of what each of the other units is doing, it can cause grave trouble.”
Saybrook remained silent.
“So I’m simply saying that if you have any questions or concerns—you are on foreign terrain while I am more familiar with the landscape and the locals—please don’t hesitate to seek my counsel.”
The earl inclined a nod. “Thank you.”
A laugh. “In other words, you don’t trust me.”
“As a fellow military man, you know that the first rule in engaging in clandestine activities is to trust nobody.”
“Touché.”
The quarterdeck suddenly came alive with activity as the ship’s captain and lieutenants began barking orders in preparation for maneuvering into a berth at the wharves.
“Touché?” repeated Saybrook. He raised a brow before turning away from the rail. “I sincerely hope that we don’t find ourselves crossing swords over the coming weeks.”
“Lord Saybrook?”A nervous-looking man wearing a fur-collared overcoat and grey astrakhan hat approached the earl as he escorted Arianna and Sophia down the gangplank.
On receiving an affirmative, the fellow blew out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness you’ve finally arrived!” He bobbed a bow. “I’m Hendrie, sir. From the ambassador’s office. Lord Cathcart has been quite worried—and when we received word that a British naval ship was approaching, he was hoping you would be aboard.”
Another breathy sigh. “Tsar Alexander has been inquiring daily about when you would arrive. An Imperial carriage has been waiting here for the last several days in readiness to convey you to your residence,” said Hendrie in a rush. “We’ve rented a lovely townhouse just off Admiralty Square, near the parade ground. The Tsar expressed the wish to have you close by the Winter Palace.”
“Alexander does nothing by halves,” murmured Arianna, as Hendrie excused himself to go fetch the Russian soldiers assigned to unload their baggage and escort them to their destination.
“I’m rather surprised he’s not here in person to greet you,” murmured Saybrook.
“A pity he isn’t, as I’ve brought along a box of his favorite rum-flavored chocolate bonbons.”
“I daresay we’ll see him soon enough.”
The arrival of the Tsar’s gilded carriage and an entourage of soldiers from the Preobrazhensky Life Guards, the oldest and most elite regiment of the Russian Imperial Army, put an end to further speculations. With a whirlwind efficiency, the soldiers retrieved their belongings and loaded everything—including their household staff from London—into the procession of baggage coaches lined up behind the carriage.
Wolff waggled a brow at the scene but refrained from comment as Hendrie turned to him. “Count von Wolfram, we’ve secured quarters for you at the Hôtel de Londres, which, like Lord and Lady Saybrook’s residence, is close to Admiralty Square. As soon as your baggage is brought down from the ship, we will proceed there.”
Arianna noted with inner amusement that no soldiers were at Wolff’s beck and call, a fact that no doubt pained him deeply, as he had a great fondness for pomp and pageantry. Especially when someone else was paying for it.
“I shall have your baggage stowed in the embassy’s wagons and serve as your escort,” finished Hendrie.
“It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance on the journey, Count,” said Saybrook, taking his leave. “I imagine we shall see a great deal of each other at the Imperial Court.”
“Indeed, Milord,” replied Wolff. “And during the evenings as well. My understanding is that the city is aswirl with sumptuous entertainments most every night.” He glanced up at the leaden sky, which was already leached of sunlight even though it was only mid-afternoon. “After all, there is little else to do when the Russian winter takes hold of the city.”
“Milord!” The captain of the regiment snapped a salute at the earl as he opened the door to the carriage. “We are ready to depart.”
The crack of the coachman’s whip soon had the Imperial carriage rolling through the cobbled streets.
"Good heavens, how interesting,” remarked Sophia, as she stared out the window. “It’s not at all what I imagined a Russian city would be.”
“St. Petersburg isn’t exactly a Russian city,” said Saybrook. “In fact, Peter the Great designed it to wrest Russia out of its traditional Slavic past and embrace the modern ideals of the West.”
“He hired Italian and French architects to copy the canals of Venice and Amsterdam, and then constructed buildings to reflect Western sensibilities,” added Arianna. She consulted her open guidebook. “In fact, the style has a name—Petrine Baroque. In honor of Peter the Great, of course.”
She watched as they passed imposing pastel-colored palaces and townhouses. “It’s a very new city—barely more than a hundred years old.”
