A good question, thought Arianna.
“And how does Fitzroy fit into that?” asked Saybrook.
“Are you telling me that he isn’t yet another one of Grentham’s agents?” demanded Prescott.
“My understanding is that Fitzroy is an engineer with an expertise in bridges and dams, sent here on a goodwill mission to help the Tsar improve the logistics of travel between St. Petersburg and the nearby port of Kronstadt, which he wishes to expand as a major base for his navy,” answered the earl. “Ask anyone from Britain about him, and I’m sure that they will confirm Fitzroy’s reputation as a rising star in his field.”
“I have made inquiries, and you’re right,” answered Prescott. “But I know the minister’s penchant for secrecy.” A pause. “And for sending multiple agents to attack a problem while keeping all of them in the dark as to who is friend and who is foe.”
“He told us about each other,” pointed out Saybrook.
“Yes, he did.” Prescott moved to the table and fixed himself a cup of tea from the heated samovar. “Though I wonder whether either of us has been told the full truth.”
“In espionage, the truth can be such a slippery concept, can’t it?” replied the earl. “But I take your point. So, if you think Fitzroy is in trouble because he’s poking around within a power struggle for the throne, who do you think is responsible?”
Prescott didn’t answer right away. “It’s complicated,” he finally said. “Russia’s history of monarchs is very different from that of Britain. The various princely families descend from past rulers, which makes many of them feel they have some claim to the throne. And so the factions within the Imperial Court are constantly jockeying for position and prestige—especially if the current Tsar shows any sign of weakness.”
“Including the Orlov family,” said Saybrook. “Soon to be your relatives-by-marriage.”
“A tenuous connection,” said the major.
It hadn’t looked that way to Arianna when the two men had greeted each other in the ballroom.
Prescott’s voice tightened as he continued. “My Russian background enabled me to infiltrate the group of men responsible for the murder of Baroness Gruzinsky, but before you ask, I’m not certain Prince Orlov is the real leader of the conspiracy.”
“Perhaps because you’re seeing the situation through the prism of friendship and family,” suggested Arianna.
The major turned, and for just an instant she saw a spark of raw anger in his eyes. “Yes, I’m friends with my cousin, Lady Saybrook, though I haven’t seen her in ages. As for Orlov, I barely know him, and the family’s reputation doesn’t incline me to deepen the acquaintance.”
“And yet, your cousin is betrothed to him,” pointed out the earl.
“As we both know, matches betweenprominent families in Britain and Russia are based on far more than personal preferences.” Prescott’s emotions now appeared rigidly under control. “Be that as it may, my primary concern right now is my mission. Which demands that I learn whether Fitzroy has complicated things by getting himself mixed up—deliberately or not—in court intrigue.”
He set his untasted tea down on the table. “However, if you’re not interested in helping, I’ll leave you to your eggs and toast.”
The challenge seemed to hang in the air for a heartbeat, thrumming with a silent electricity.
“I need to fetch a few things from the study,” responded Saybrook. “Please ask my footman to ready my overcoat and fur hat. I’ll meet you downstairs in a few moments.”
Sophia expelled a pent-upbreath once she and Arianna were alone. “I can’t but think you’ve judged the major too harshly.”
Arianna was tempted to reply that such sentiments were because her friend had far less experience with clever, unscrupulous dastards, for whom lies flowed like honey from their golden tongues. But wanting to be tactful, she phrased it another way. “Do keep in mind that the most cunning villains have mastered the art of appearing trustworthy. That’s what makes them so dangerous.”
Sophia bit at her lower lip. “But you’ve told me that at times, you’ve trusted your heart over your head.”
“That’s because my heart has been wounded often enough in the past to recognize all the little warning signs of duplicity,” she replied. “I’m not easy to fool these days. Prescott isn’t being honest with us—I’ll wager my life on it. And so I have no choice but to consider him the enemy.”
The case clock in the corner of the dining room punctuated her words with its doleful chiming of the hour.
“Let us not waste any more precious minutes,” added Arianna. “Speaking of duplicity, we need to confront Mrs. Schuyler and force the truth out of her about how she fits into this pernicious puzzle.”
A light snow was falling as the carriage rolled over the cobbles, frosting the buildings with an ethereal glow. The city looked like a fanciful confection, made of spun sugar and shimmering pastry cream . . .
And deceptions, of course.
Repressing a shiver, Arianna turned her gaze from the window. St. Petersburg possessed a shimmering beauty, and yet it felt as if it were built on naught but lies and innuendos.
“What if Mrs. Schuyler refuses to tell us what we want to know?” asked Sophia.
