Arianna hoped that they would find a way to . . .
“We’ve yet to hear an explanation of how this drama is going to play out,” said Saybrook, drawing her back from personal musings.
“Mrs. Schuyler will be meeting us at the cathedral,” replied Arianna. “Her note said that she’ll go over the details and timing then.”
“I’m surprised that Bishop Sergius will allow a spiritual mystic inside such a holy place,” mused the earl.
“I imagine the alliance with the Naryshkin family is key to their conspiracy, so he’s willing to accede to the Tsar’s wishes on the ceremony, no matter how much it offends his beliefs,” said Grentham.
Something in the minister’s voice caused Saybrook to frown. “You still seem unconvinced that Orlov is the main threat to the Tsar.”
“Over the years, I’ve learned to listen to my intuition,” replied the minister. Shadows deepened the rippling of misgiving in his eyes. “And it’s telling me that I’m still missing something.”
“Let us put aside the question of the medallion for now,” said Arianna. “This is all about rescuing Fitzroy and Wolff.” She couldn’t help spearing Grentham with a stern look. “I still haven’t entirely forgiven you for sending my brother into this viper’s nest of intrigue. He’s not . . .”
Arianna hesitated, searching for how to phrase her fears. “He’s not nearly as hardened as we are to the life-and-death perils that can strike without warning.” Her voice wavered, and then before she could hold it back, she blurted out her deepest dread. “H-He must be terrified.”
A momentary silence greeted the statement—and then Grentham began to chuckle.
Her anxiety turned to anger. “H-How dare you laugh at me!” she exclaimed.
“Because you are greatly underestimating Richard Fitzroy,” replied the minister with an infuriating smile. “Apparently I know him far better than you do.”
Outraged, she looked to Saybrook for support.
“I’m sorry, my love, but much as it pains me, in this case I have to agree with Grentham,” he murmured. “In Paris, Fitzroy performed his role with consummate professionalism.”
“He completely bamboozled the late Prince Orlov—which required a gift for improvising under pressure and nerves of steel, as the smallest mistake would have resulted in a very prolonged and very unpleasant death,” pointed out Grentham. “As for not being hardened, your brother has earned both respect and accolades for his talents despite being snubbed throughout his life by Society for having been born on the wrong side of the blanket. That required grit and resilience.”
“I . . .” Arianna tried to come up with a counterargument, but honesty compelled her to admit there was none. “I suppose I’ve been looking at the situation through a different lens, seeing him as an innocent victim of our father’s weaknesses.” A sigh. “And feeling guilty because I didn’t know and couldn’t be of support to him.”
Oddly enough, saying it aloud helped loosen the knot in her gut. “I loved my father dearly in spite of his flaws,” she added. “But he never seemed to comprehend the consequences his actions had on others—and the pain and suffering that he caused.”
“I doubt Fitzroy would thank you for thinking of him as a helpless victim. He certainly doesn’t see himself as such,” said Grentham. “Perhaps a new perspective on your relationship will help forge an even closer bond between the two of you.”
Arianna stifled the urge to laugh. Danger swirled all around them, as unrelenting and unpredictable as the snowstorm buffeting the sleigh, and their minds should be on naught but the perils of the mission. And yet, here they were offering emotional counsel to each other. There was no rational explanation for the absurdity of it.
Save to call it friendship.
Even though that didn’t begin to capture the complexities of the relationships.
The glimmer of amusement in Saybrook’s eyes showed that he, too, was aware of the undercurrents rippling around them. But wisely enough, he chose to bring their attention back to the present challenge. “An interesting observation, Grentham,” he murmured. “But first we must extract Fitzroy from his present predicament.”
“And Wolffy, of course,” said Arianna, as a fresh gust of wind sent a shiver through the sleigh. “Actually, given his prodigious skill at wriggling out of Trouble, I’m rather surprised they haven’t already escaped.”
“Wolff’s silver tongue isn’t quite as effective in a foreign language,” drawled the earl. “I doubt his gaolers speak English.”
“Speaking of gaolers, let us go over our options for entering the tunnels from the cathedral, based on the maps that Prescott has procured,” said Grentham. “Mrs. Schuyler’s note says that she hopes to have more specific information for us, but we had better be prepared to improvise.”
Mrs. Schuyler was waitingfor them just inside the ornate monastery entrance, which was part of the Gate Church—formally named the Church of the Icon of the Mother of God, Joy of All Who Suffer.
“Let us hope ‘All Who Suffer’ doesn’t refer to us,” murmured the minister. It had been decided that Grentham would slip away from the group, once Mrs. Schuyler had passed on whatever further information she had gathered.
“Who’s your companion?” asked Mrs. Schuyler, eying the minister with a searching stare.
“A trusted friend,” replied Arianna.
“He had better be,” said Mrs. Schuyler. “We can’t afford to make any mistakes.” She glanced around before adding, “I did a bit of looking around when I was supposedly closeted with Tatiana to give her womanly advice, and spied a contingent of heavily armed men gathering in one of the smaller churches behind the Holy Trinity Cathedral. I don’t know what Prince Orlov and Bishop Sergius are planning after the wedding ceremony, but I imagine that it’s nothing good.”
