“And I you.” She flashed a fleeting smile. “But we can’t allow our personal lives to distract us right now. Not when the fate of nations is hanging by a frail thread,” warned Arianna. “I told Wolffy about us and our family connection during the sea voyage here. So I assume that he’s recently contacted you for some reason.”
“He has apparently been spending time in the seedier taverns around town—I now understand why he’s able to fit in and play so many different roles—posing as a criminal for hire,” said Fitzroy. “And yes, he contacted me this morning because he’s gathered some critical information . . .”
The sound of voices in the adjoining gallery caused him to halt.
“Damnation, one never has privacy in this cursed palace,” he muttered in a rush. “I must take my leave shortly for a diplomatic meeting, so never mind the specifics. What matters is that what Wolff has learned is important, and he’s agreed to come with me to meet Mrs. Schuyler tonight. Between the two of us, I think we can force her to tell us the truth about why she is here.”
“But—” began Arianna, and then bit off her words in frustration. The voices were suddenly louder and she recognized Prince Orlov’s laugh. In another moment, he and his companions would enter the Samovar Room.
She had only an instant to make up her mind. She could either interfere with her brother’s plan and demand to take charge. Or she could trust him to handle the situation.
And her choice would likely color their relationship.
“Good luck,” she whispered. “No matter the hour, come by our townhouse when you’re finished with the meeting and give us a report. We’ll leave the scullery door unlocked.”
A flutter of movement warned that in a heartbeat they wouldn’t be alone. “Wolffy knows how to enter a building without being spotted,” she finished in a rush.
Fitzroy quickly pivoted and reacted to the entrance of Orlov and his companions with admirable sangfroid. “Ah, my dear prince, you’ll be delighted to hear that our new arrival from London is in alt over the artistry of these magnificent Russian samovars.”
“Yes, Lady Saybrook indicated that she has an unusual interest in kitchens and cooking,” said Orlov, eyeing her with a hint of disdain.
“Oh, look!” she trilled. Happy to keep playing the fool, she pointed to an ornate silver monstrosity that looked capable of boiling enough water to make tea for an entire regiment of Hussars. “How exciting. This one was owned by Catherine the Great.”
“Be assured that Alexander’s grandmama spent no time fussing over hot water,” replied the prince. “And nor will my beautiful bride.”
It was only then that Arianna realized that Tatiana was with him. That was because the Ice Princess had lost all her sparkle from the previous evening. Today she was dressed in matte black bombazine, and looked barely strong enough to stand.
Orlov took a step and then put a steadying arm around Tatiana’s waist as she stumbled. “Have a care, my pet. The floor is a trifle slippery.”
Oaf, thought Arianna. It struck her as deliberately cruel to force his fiancée to appear in public when she was clearly distraught over the sudden death of her cousin.
Fitzroy made a show of consulting his pocket watch. “Please forgive me, Lady Saybrook, but I have a meeting scheduled with our embassy attaché and I mustn’t be late. May I escort you to the carriage courtyard?”
“Thank you.” An idea had occurred to her as she saw Tatiana had turned even paler. “But I think I shall linger here and peruse the rest of the exhibit.” She fluttered her lashes at the prince. “That is, if you have no objection.”
“None at all,” he replied with a smile that made the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck stand on end.
Fitzroy inclined a bow and hurried away, leaving her with the prince and his group. Aside from Tatiana, she didn’t recognize any of them. Two of the men were wearing the peacock plumage of the Emperor’s personal adjutants, while the third was an ascetic-looking Orthodox cleric with flinty eyes and a curling grey beard that came down to his waist.
The adjutants politely pointed out a few more highlights of the collection, but out of the corner of her eye, Arianna noted the cleric was glowering at her.
As if I’m the Devil Incarnate, she thought.
Orlov ignored her and signaled for the cleric to move with him to a large display case on the far side of the room.
Tatiana stumbled again, drawing a huff and a menacing glare from the prince.
“I’m feeling rather fatigued from walking these endless corridors, too,” Arianna announced loudly. “Perhaps Countess Tatiana would be kind enough to sit with me while I rest,” she added, indicating a carved pine bench with plum-colored velvet cushions nestled in a window nook.
The cleric muttered something in Russian. “Women,” he added in English and made a clucking sound. “Weak.”
“Delicate, Bishop Sergius,” corrected Orlov. “As befits a future princess.” To Arianna, he added, “Allow me to introduce Bishop Sergius of Kronstadt, a very holy and revered man.”
Her curtsey elicited naught but a malevolent glare from the cleric.
Orlov then nodded at his fiancée. “Perhaps Lady Saybrook is right to suggest a short rest.”
Arianna was quick to approach and offer an arm. Averting her eyes, Tatiana accepted and allowed herself to be led away. Her steps were stiff, and Arianna could feel the tautness in the young lady’s limbs.
