“So . . .” Sophia edged forward on her chair. “You must be familiar with the city by now. Where are the likeliest places for Prince Orlov to be keeping the prisoners?”
Mrs. Schuyler’s brow furrowed in thought. “Not his own palace, and not the Naryshkin family residence. However, I believe there is a family seaside estate near here that is deserted for the winter—”
She suddenly sat up straighter. “This may be a foolish idea, but it does seem that holier-than-thou Bishop Sergius has become part of the prince’s inner circle. He occasionally preaches from the pulpit of the St. Peter and Paul Cathedral. But word is that for the duration of his visit to St. Petersburg, he is residing at the Alexander Nevsky Monastery, a historic and very holy place for the Russian Orthodox Church.”
“A monastery,” mused Arianna. “You’re suggesting that Fitzroy and Wolff might be imprisoned there?”
The American sighed. “It’s just a wild idea. But even if I’m right, I don’t see how we would get them out of a monastery, which is sealed off from the outside world.”
“Hmmm.” Sophia considered the problem. “We rescued a child from within a walled convent in Brussels—”
Mrs. Schuyler’s brows winged up.
“How much harder can a monastery be?”
“The gang of French ruffians-for-hire wasn’t shooting at you,” replied Arianna dryly. “Be that as it may, we can’t afford to guess.”
Suddenly feeling fatigued from worry and lack of sleep, she slumped back against the pillows of her armchair, lifted her booted feet, and placed them atop the tea table. “Forgive me for such uncouth manners, but I need to stretch out the knots in my muscles.”
The American waved off the apology. “I assure you, my sense of decorum isn’t easily offended.” She rose and restoked the stove.
As a ripple of cheery warmth washed over her, Arianna felt her eyelids begin to droop.
“Andrei has contacts in low as well as high places within the city,” mused the American. “He and Lord Saybrook can begin making inquiries at some of the less reputable taverns near the Winter Palace. No matter how carefully one plans a clandestine activity, there are always witnesses who have seen something. It’s just a matter of finding them.”
“Very true,” murmured Sophia, who sounded as if she was holding back a yawn.
“While the men pursue those sort of clues, we must think about what we can learn in the drawing rooms and refreshment rooms where the ladies gather,” continued Mrs. Schuyler. She dusted her hands and returned to her chair. “If only we could speak with Tatiana in private. My impression is that she’s very bright and observant. And given that men like Prince Orlov have little respect for women’s intellect, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s overheard some very incriminating conversations.”
Arianna shrugged. Perhaps after a few hours of sleep had cleared the muzziness from her head, she would be more sanguine about their chances of finding Fitzroy and Wolff. Grentham had been right to warn them about the dangers of undertaking a mission in a foreign city, where there were no resources on which to call save for one’s own wits.
And hers were not feeling particularly sharp as the moment.
The thought of Grentham prompted a guilty glance at Sophia. With all the challenges of trying to defuse the explosive threat to Russia’s stability, she hadn’t paid enough attention to her friend’s emotional state. Sophia had given no outward sign of brooding. But like herself, her friend was reserved in showing her feelings. Perhaps she was suffering in stoic silence.
The pinch of guilt grew sharper as she pondered Prescott’s recent revelation. Had Sophia felt a tendre for the major, only to experience another romantic disappointment?
Arianna closed her eyes for an instant, vowing to be a better friend.
A spray of tiny ice shards crackled against the windowpanes as another gust smacked against the Pavilion. Sophia looked to be dozing. Mrs. Schuyler had lapsed into silence, her brow creased in thought, her gaze resting on the tips of Arianna’s boots.
“It must be very liberating to dress as a man,” she mused. “And be able to move around freely in places where women simply can’t go.”
“Ye gods.” Leather scraped against wood as Arianna suddenly swung her legs off the table. Her feet hit the carpet with a muffled thump as she shot up from her chair.
“That’s it!”
Sophia looked up and fixed her with a bleary-eyed stare. “You’re not making any sense. I think we both need to get some sleep.”
“I’m talking about Tatiana,” she replied, excitement rising in her voice. “I should have thought of it before. If Tatiana can’t come to us, then we shall have to go to her.”
“You mean . . .” Mrs. Schuyler’s eyes widened as she realized what Arianna was suggesting. “You mean to break into the Naryshkin mansion? B-But how?”
“Nothing so crude as breaking into the main part of the mansion,” she replied. “I’m agile and very skilled at climbing, so what I have in mind is more of a nocturnal ascent of the building’s exterior—all those lovely stone lintels and ornamental decorations provide easy footholds—to Tatiana’s bedchamber window. Once I’m inside, the two of us can have a private chat, and then I’ll be gone with no one the wiser.”
“Oh, surely that’s too dangerous,” protested Mrs. Schuyler. “One small slip—”
“Arianna isn’t exaggerating,” said Sophia, who was now wide awake. “She’s actually very good at this and unafraid of heights—and has done it a number of times before.”
