A sardonic smile. “Russians are even more evasive than I am. However, I’ve learned that she did seem to spend a great deal of time with Countess Litta.” He took a long swallow of his wine. “But trying to charm information out of that battleax is not easy. I may be forced to take extreme measures . . . though I confess, the dance of seduction no longer holds the same appeal for me as it once did.”
“Leave the countess to me. I have a sense she’ll find chocolate even more alluring than your physical charms.”
“Thank God,” he murmured. But before he could add anything else, one of the gold-braided court officers approached in a rush.
“Milady,” he said, a bit breathless. “Allow me to escort you to the private parlor where His Royal Highness’s spiritual advisor is ready to grace you with a private audience.”
Wolff’s brows tweaked up in amusement as Arianna agreed with an equally effusive choice of words.
“If you will excuse me, Count von Wolfram.”
The officer led her through the picture galleries and down a long corridor that ended at a set of double doors carved out of oak.
“Enter,” came the reply to his discreet knock.
Arianna waved the officer away and clicked the latch open herself.
Mrs. Schuyler was seated in one of the plush armchairs set by the hearth, where a blazing fire scented the room with the piney fragrance of the burning spruce wood.
A gold samovar set on a wheeled cart by her armchair was angled to reflect the dancing flames.
“Please join me,” called Mrs. Schuyler. Her voice was low and slightly husky for a woman, which only added to her exotic aura. “Would you care for some tea?” she added as Arianna settled into the facing chair.
“Thank you. But I prefer it prepared the English way, with naught but one teaspoon of sugar and a splash of milk.” The Russians favored achingly sweet tea.
“The Russian method is an acquired taste,” said the American. She filled two gold-handled glasses with the steaming brew and prepared it as Arianna had asked.
“As a world traveler, I imagine you’ve become skilled at adapting to foreign customs,” remarked Arianna as she accepted her tea.
It may only have been a quirk of the light, but it seemed a tiny smile pulled at the corners of Mrs. Schuyler’s mouth. The lady, however, made no reply.
“Tsar Alexander speaks very highly of you, and how your counsel is critical to him in these troubled times. He thinks himself in danger, and says that you agree.”
“Here in Russia, danger is like a wolf of the steppes,” answered the American. “It’s always lurking in the shadows, a predator waiting and watching for some sign of weakness, and then it begins the hunt.”
Mrs. Schuyler was clearly adroit with words. Rather than play verbal games with her, Arianna decided to be direct.
“You’ve now been close to him and the court for some time. The wolf must have a name—who do you think it is?”
The American sat back and shifted her gaze to the fire. The burning wood crackled as it crumbled to red-hot coals. “I use my astrolabe and a variety of tarot cards designed to tap into the unseen realms of the cosmos. Their language is not the same as ours—they don’t communicate names, merely auras.”
Arianna was tiring of the silly theatrics but kept a check on her irritation. “I understand that you inhabit a higher plane of sensibility than I do. But be that as it may, the Tsar is facing a very specific threat. I know he has told you that a medallion has gone missing, which puts his throne in peril. Given your gifts and your experience here at the court, surely you have a suspect in mind.”
A flutter of the American’s jeweled fingers set off a winking of colored light. “I think idle speculation is a waste of time.”
Clenching her teeth, Arianna sat back. “And yet, the clock is ticking, so doing nothing seems to be an even poorer option.”
Mrs. Schuyler surprised her by letting out a low laugh. “I sense your skepticism. What makes you think I’m a charlatan, Lady Saybrook?” she challenged.
“I have a good deal of experience with them.”
“You?” The American arched her brows. “A cosseted countess?”
“As we both know,” said Arianna softly. “Appearances can be deceiving.”
Her nostrils flaring, Mrs. Schuyler drew in a sharp breath, then quickly recovered her sangfroid. “His Majesty is right—you are a very unusual woman, Milady.” She twisted at the blood-red ruby ring on her pinkie. “I shall consider what you said, and do another consultation of the cards.”
A sigh slipped from her lips as she pressed her fingertips to her temples. “But now, I must order my thoughts.”
