A Tangle of Serpents, page 20
“You won’t join us for a postprandial glass of port at the Le Chevre D’Or?” said Saybrook.
“It’s been a delightful evening, milord, but I must be at my post early tomorrow. We have a great deal of preparations to make for a very special visitor who will be arriving shortly.”
“Oh? And who is that?”
His cheeks reddened. “I . . .er . . .” Newton realized his slip of the tongue. “I shouldn’t say, sir. But as I know you are a good friend of Wellington . . .” He leaned in closer. “Tsar Alexander is coming to confer with the duke, though his presence is to remain a secret.”
“The Tsar is coming to Paris?” mused the earl. “I wonder why.”
“The duke’s inner circle has been awfully tight-lipped about the reason,” answered Newton. “Thankfully, my job is a simple one—I merely need to work out his accommodations and serve as an escort.”
He clicked a bow to Arianna and Sophia. “Regretfully, I must take leave of you ladies. However, I do hope to have the pleasure of your company again very soon.”
“What do you make of him?” asked Sophia, once the colonel had left the café.
“He seems too good to be true,” murmured Arianna. Her lips quirked. “Which makes me suspect he is telling the truth.”
“Perhaps.” Saybrook regarded what remained of the wine in his glass and then quaffed it in one quick swallow. “I’d like to pay a visit to Le Chevre D’Or, but on second thought, I fear doing so with you two would defeat the purpose. Our appearance would draw too much attention—it’s not a place where respectable ladies go.” He pursed his lips. “Nor can I leave you unattended in the outdoor gardens.”
Arianna thought for a moment. Their coachman was waiting on one of the nearby side streets. “But you could escort us to the carriage and then return here.” She glanced around. “Thought I think it might be wise to ask a few of your diplomatic acquaintances here to join you. Assuming Orlov is there, he would be less suspicious of your appearance if you are part of a group.”
“An excellent suggestion,” encouraged Sophia.
The earl nodded and pushed back in his chair. “Shall we go?”
Twilight had deepened into the velvet darkness of night, accentuating the bright blaze of the walkway lanterns surrounding the central gardens. The lawns were alive with flaming torches as the jugglers and musicians entertained the strolling pleasure-seekers. Drunken shouts and laughter punctuated the flutes and fiddles.
“It reminds me of Vauxhall Gardens,” said Arianna, watching the swirl of people.
“The pursuit of pleasure,” said Saybrook dryly, “sounds much the same in any language.”
Their steps slowed by the crowd, they cut a leisurely path toward the street.
“Saybrook!”
Hearing a hail from behind them, the earl turned as Leete darted out from one of the colonnaded walkways and hurried across the grass. The major inclined a gentlemanly bow to Arianna and Sophia. “Good evening, milady and Miss Kirtland. Dare I hope I might join your promenade?”
“Actually, you would be doing us a great favor,” replied Saybrook. “I was just escorting the ladies to our carriage, as I have an engagement to meet some friends in one of the taverns on the top floor.” He caught Arianna’s eye for an instant. “I’m sure they would rather linger for a bit to observe the amusements, so if I could leave them in your charge . . .”
“Please do join us,” added Arianna, understanding the earl’s unspoken request.
“But of course!” assured Leete. “Nothing would make me happier,” he continued, offering his arm to Sophia.
As she stepped away from her husband, Arianna tried to gauge her friend’s reaction. The major was an honorable, engaging fellow, and had proved both his courage and loyalty during their previous mission in Brussels. That he admired Sophia was clear.
As to Sophia’s feelings . . .
Life with Leete would, she sensed, offer an easy camaraderie, with few dark complexities to test the relationship. While Grentham, by contrast, would be a constant challenge.
Thrusting such musings aside, she assumed a smile and placed a hand on Leete’s other arm.
“I daresay I’m the envy of every gentleman here,” said the major.
“Miss Kirtland and my wife have a knack for attracting attention,” drawled the earl. “I will count on you to ward off any unwelcome advances.”
Leete’s grin gave way to a more alert expression. “That goes without saying.”
Cocking a quick salute, Saybrook turned and headed back toward the main entrance of the Palais-Royal.
“Are we expecting trouble?” he murmured.
“What fun would a pleasure garden be if there wasn’t a soupçon of trouble lurking within the dark shadows?” jested Arianna.
“Quite so,” said Leete in amiable agreement. “Shall we go take a look at the performers by the fountain? I’ve heard there is one fellow who puts on a show of swallowing a flaming sword.”
The oohs and ahhs grew louder as they drew near to the circle of spectators ringing the fountain. Two men dressed as court jesters were juggling colored balls, with occasional tosses back and forth, much to the delight of the onlookers. Behind them, the sword-swallower had taken a perch on the low ledge of the stone pool, and with a dramatic flourish lit the tip of his short-bladed rapier from the oil lantern set at his feet.
A hush fell over the crowd.
Turning in profile, the fellow tipped back his head and raised the sword.
Slowly, slowly, the tip descended and disappeared into the open mouth.
Arianna bit back a laugh. Having worked in a theatrical company that made its money fleecing gullible spectators, she knew all the little tricks of the trade.
Illusion and sleight of hand. Those early hardscrabble years had proved useful training for her current life.
The crowd began to murmur as the hilt paused just above the fellow’s mouth, then began its ascent.
Well done. She gave him high marks for his acting—
Suddenly aware of a hand brushing against the hidden pocket of her gown, Arianna tried to turn, but Leete’s muscled bulk on her right and the press of people on her left held her in check.
Feeling her agitation, the major asked, “Is something amiss?”
“No,” answered Arianna, but as she spoke her probing fingers hit up against a folded piece of paper.
The spectators burst into applause and surged forward to toss coins into the collection plate as the sword-swallower waved the still-glowing rapier and took a bow.
“Shall we move away to a less crowded spot?” she suggested.
Leete led them around a neatly pruned hedge to one of the side paths. The boisterous noise gave way to the gentle rustling of the breeze through the leaves of a nearby tree.
“What’s that?” demanded Sophia, seeing the flutter of white.
“I’ll see in a moment. “Arianna unfolded the note. “Stroll down the Dark Walk in 10 minutes,” she read.
“As if we would walk into an obvious trap,” muttered Leete. “Does the dastard think we are utter fools?”
Arianna angled the paper to catch the moonlight and studied the writing. “On the contrary, I think it would be foolish not to go.”
“But—”
“Which way is the Dark Walk?”
“But I promised Saybrook—”
“Trust me, Saybrook would agree with my decision.”
“There’s no need for worry, sir.” Sophia shook her reticule, setting off a faint metallic clink. “Lady Saybrook and I are both armed, and I’m assuming you have a pistol on your person. There’s no chance that a dastard is going to get the best of us.”
The major signaled his surrender with an unhappy sigh. “Draw your weapons.” He did the same. “I’ll lead the way, but once we reach the head of the Dark Walk, you two will go ahead—walking abreast so you can keep guard on both sides as well as ahead— and I’ll drop behind to bring up the rear.”
“Agreed,” answered Arianna. Leete was a seasoned soldier, experienced in all the ugly elements of warfare.
His jaw tightened, but after a moment of hesitation, he gave a brusque wave. “Follow me—and let us pray that Saybrook won’t have reason to ask for my head on a platter.”
Their destination was set at the far end of the grounds. Darkness blanketed the entrance to the grassy walkway, the creak of the unlit lanterns swinging in the breeze adding a frisson of impending danger to the midnight chill. Shadows slithered within shadows as they moved through the wrought iron archway into a wide path that led through a grove of trees.
The soft ground muffled their footfalls. Arianna heard the scrabbling of trysting couples within the bushes, but the sounds soon gave way to an uneasy stillness, save for the whispery murmur of the leaves. She and Sophia slowed their steps as the gloom deepened.
Her friend flinched at the snap of a twig, and Leete hissed an order to halt.
Silence.
Arianna shifted her stance, pistol ready. They waited . . . and heard only the low twitter of a nightingale.
Leete tapped her shoulder—a sign to continue on.
She started forward . . .
And froze as a lone figure cloaked in a swirl of dark wool slipped free of the leafy shadows just ahead of them.
“Don’t shoot,” came the fluttery request. The hood of the cloak slid down, and as a flicker of moonlight broke through the clouds, Arianna lowered her weapon.
“Thank heavens you’ve finally shown your face,” she said. “I was beginning to fear that my wits were coming unhinged.”
Chapter 20
“Please don’t ring a peal over my head,” Paloma Marone-Cinzano brushed an errant lock of hair from her cheek. “I can explain.”
“Please do so.” Feeling a rush of relief at seeing their erstwhile comrade-in-arms from Brussels, Arianna allowed a wry smile. “This cursed web of intrigue has entangled all of us in its sticky strands. But I pray we can now start working together to stop whatever evil is afoot.”
“Are you on a mission?” demanded Leete, a note of reproach shading his voice. “And you didn’t ask for my help?”
“We weren’t at liberty to do so,” said Sophia.
“Things were too fraught,” Arianna added. “Circumstance made us question whether we could trust even our closest friends.”
“Si, it’s a fiendishly clever plot,” said Paloma. “But I’ve unraveled—”
At a cracking from within the trees, both Leete and Sophia spun around, their pistols cocked and ready. The sound came again, and an instant later a fox darted across the path and disappeared in the underbrush.
“There is much to tell,” said Paloma, after drawing a steadying breath. “But I’d rather do it once, with Saybrook present, and in a more secure place. As you said, evil is treading all around us.”
“Let us make our way back to one of the exits from the main plaza,” said Arianna. “The three of us will head to our carriage and wait there for Leete to fetch Sandro.”
The major nodded his agreement to the plan. “Stay alert. As we all know, Trouble can strike at any moment.”
Thankfully, they managed to dodge whatever trouble might have been lurking in the woods. The earl, along with Leete, joined them for the ride back to their mansion, and they were all soon settled in the parlor, with a pot of freshly-made hot chocolate set on the tea table next to the bottle of Spanish brandy and Scottish malt.
“Dio Madre, I have missed your spiced chocolate,” murmured Paloma as she took another appreciative sip.
“While I find myself yearning for a wee dram of whisky,” announced Leete. He cocked the bottle at the earl. “Though I’m rather offended at your keeping me in the dark about a secret mission here in Paris, I shall be happy to pour a glass for you, as well.”
“I prefer brandy,” answered Saybrook.
“What have I missed?” Constantina appeared in the doorway, a mobcap over her silver curls and a silk wrapper concealing her nightrail.
“Nothing as of yet,” answered Arianna. Leete knew nothing about the accusations against Grentham, and no mention had been made of it during the carriage ride.
“Good heavens, is that Paloma ?” The dowager gave an owlish blink. “When did you fly in?”
“Let us put aside pleasantries for the moment. We are just about to begin a council of war . . .” Arianna fixed Paloma with an expectant look. She sensed an urgency thrumming beneath the outward show of self-control. “And apparently, our friend has much to tell us on that score.”
Damn the treacherous dastards who have managed to get us doubting whether we can trust each other, she thought. But for now, they must be cautious.
“I hardly know where to start,” replied Paloma. She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Ye gods, unraveling truth from lies has been a daunting challenge.”
“As well we know,” murmured Saybrook.
“Yes, well, I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when I got word from the Foreign Office that Grentham was a fugitive accused of treason,” continued Paloma.”
A longtime secret spy for the British government, the Spanish beauty had crossed paths with Saybrook during the Peninsular War, and then again several months ago in Brussels, where she had been instrumental in helping them foil a plot to sow discord between the Allied forces opposing Napoleon.
In the course of the action, she had saved Grentham’s life.
And he had saved hers.
“Grentham a traitor?” exclaimed Leete. “That can’t be!”
“We were all taken by surprise by the accusation,” answered the earl. “But surely you understand why,” he continued, his gaze locked on Paloma, “given the debt you owed him, we couldn’t reach out to you until things became clearer.”
“And have they?” demanded Leete.
“Not entirely,” said Arianna. “The questions as to where true loyalties lie is fraught with complexities.”
“Meaning,” said Paloma in a matter-of-fact voice, “the fact that I’ve worked for years for Sir Joshua in the Foreign Office could test my gratitude to Grentham.”
Leete appeared nonplussed. “I-I fear you’ve lost me.”
“That’s because the world of intrigue doesn’t play by the same rules of gentlemanly honor as you do,” explained Saybrook. “Betrayals and double-crosses are a way of life in the shadows. What Signora Marone-Cinzano was implying that it’s possible Sir Joshua is part of a conspiracy to make Grentham look guilty and strip him of his power. And that we might suspect she has sided with her spymaster rather than the minister.”
He paused for a sip of brandy. “I’m sure Signora Marone-Cinzano is wondering where our loyalties lie. After all, Arianna and I have an unpleasant history with Grentham.”
Paloma smiled. “I wouldn’t have survived this long as an agent if I didn’t consider all the possibilities.”
“I’m surprised that Grentham isn’t here, lurking in the shadows and taking sardonic enjoyment in the theatrics of friends doubting friends,” said Sophia.
“Perhaps he is.” Arianna couldn’t help rising and moving quickly to the doorway to check up and down the corridor.
Sophia pointed to the terrier sleeping at her feet. “He’s not. Hobbes would have barked.”
Shifting in his seat, the earl squared his shoulders and leaned forward. “Unraveling truth from lies,” he said, repeating Paloma’s earlier words. “How do you suggest we decide whether we trust each other?”
“Quite simply,” came the answer. “I’ve trusted all of you with my life, and the life of my daughter. If you tell me you believe that Grentham is innocent, and you are working to prove it, I shall take your word for it.”
“We are,” answered Arianna. “And you?”
“Yes. I am. I’m certain he’s innocent—which I’ll explain in a moment.” A pause. “Assuming you wish for me to go on.”
“At times like this,” said Sophia. “I think it’s best to listen to one’s heart, not just one’s head. “ Her mouth curled up at the corners. “Call it women’s intuition.”
“A force to be reckoned with,” chimed in Constantina.
“Indeed it is.” Arianna raised a brow. “Well? Are the gentlemen satisfied that we’re all on the same side?”
The earl murmured something in Spanish that made Paloma laugh. “A wise choice, milord,” she responded. “Your wife is awfully skilled with a cleaver and fillet knife.”
Leete refilled his glass and raised a toast. “To fighting . . . whatever evil we are fighting. Having witnessed our little regiment in action, I don’t think Lucifer himself would stand a chance against us.”
“Gracias a Dios.” Paloma expelled a sigh of relief. “Pierson and I were praying that we could count on your help—”
“Is he here with you?” interrupted Arianna.
George Pierson was Grentham’s most trusted operative. She and Saybrook had worked with him on Elba, where he had undertaken a very dangerous mission in an attempt to stop Napoleon from escaping. They had thought he had perished in the attempt, but in fact he had ended up as a French prisoner. The recent trip to Brussels had been rescue mission—a successful one, though Pierson had suffered grievous injuries under French interrogation.
“No, his injuries are still not healed enough for him to attempt any clandestine activities. But ever since we heard of the accusations against the minister, he has been calling in favors from his vast network of informants in hopes of undercovering who’s behind the conspiracy.”
“And?” demanded Saybrook.
“We’re confident that we have identified a major player in the Foreign Office—it’s Lord Frederick Boylston—and we know for certain that Orlov is working for them. However, the ringleader still remains a mystery,” replied Paloma.
“Boylston?” Saybrook uttered a low oath. “My uncle will be devasted. He considers the man a good friend and an excellent diplomat.”
“What would make a man like that betray his country?” whispered Sophia.
“Greed, ambition, the lust for power,” responded the earl. “Or perhaps one of the elemental dark urges of human nature.” His jaw clenched for an instant. “Who can say for sure what tempts people to abandon any sense of right and wrong?”
“It’s been a delightful evening, milord, but I must be at my post early tomorrow. We have a great deal of preparations to make for a very special visitor who will be arriving shortly.”
“Oh? And who is that?”
His cheeks reddened. “I . . .er . . .” Newton realized his slip of the tongue. “I shouldn’t say, sir. But as I know you are a good friend of Wellington . . .” He leaned in closer. “Tsar Alexander is coming to confer with the duke, though his presence is to remain a secret.”
“The Tsar is coming to Paris?” mused the earl. “I wonder why.”
“The duke’s inner circle has been awfully tight-lipped about the reason,” answered Newton. “Thankfully, my job is a simple one—I merely need to work out his accommodations and serve as an escort.”
He clicked a bow to Arianna and Sophia. “Regretfully, I must take leave of you ladies. However, I do hope to have the pleasure of your company again very soon.”
“What do you make of him?” asked Sophia, once the colonel had left the café.
“He seems too good to be true,” murmured Arianna. Her lips quirked. “Which makes me suspect he is telling the truth.”
“Perhaps.” Saybrook regarded what remained of the wine in his glass and then quaffed it in one quick swallow. “I’d like to pay a visit to Le Chevre D’Or, but on second thought, I fear doing so with you two would defeat the purpose. Our appearance would draw too much attention—it’s not a place where respectable ladies go.” He pursed his lips. “Nor can I leave you unattended in the outdoor gardens.”
Arianna thought for a moment. Their coachman was waiting on one of the nearby side streets. “But you could escort us to the carriage and then return here.” She glanced around. “Thought I think it might be wise to ask a few of your diplomatic acquaintances here to join you. Assuming Orlov is there, he would be less suspicious of your appearance if you are part of a group.”
“An excellent suggestion,” encouraged Sophia.
The earl nodded and pushed back in his chair. “Shall we go?”
Twilight had deepened into the velvet darkness of night, accentuating the bright blaze of the walkway lanterns surrounding the central gardens. The lawns were alive with flaming torches as the jugglers and musicians entertained the strolling pleasure-seekers. Drunken shouts and laughter punctuated the flutes and fiddles.
“It reminds me of Vauxhall Gardens,” said Arianna, watching the swirl of people.
“The pursuit of pleasure,” said Saybrook dryly, “sounds much the same in any language.”
Their steps slowed by the crowd, they cut a leisurely path toward the street.
“Saybrook!”
Hearing a hail from behind them, the earl turned as Leete darted out from one of the colonnaded walkways and hurried across the grass. The major inclined a gentlemanly bow to Arianna and Sophia. “Good evening, milady and Miss Kirtland. Dare I hope I might join your promenade?”
“Actually, you would be doing us a great favor,” replied Saybrook. “I was just escorting the ladies to our carriage, as I have an engagement to meet some friends in one of the taverns on the top floor.” He caught Arianna’s eye for an instant. “I’m sure they would rather linger for a bit to observe the amusements, so if I could leave them in your charge . . .”
“Please do join us,” added Arianna, understanding the earl’s unspoken request.
“But of course!” assured Leete. “Nothing would make me happier,” he continued, offering his arm to Sophia.
As she stepped away from her husband, Arianna tried to gauge her friend’s reaction. The major was an honorable, engaging fellow, and had proved both his courage and loyalty during their previous mission in Brussels. That he admired Sophia was clear.
As to Sophia’s feelings . . .
Life with Leete would, she sensed, offer an easy camaraderie, with few dark complexities to test the relationship. While Grentham, by contrast, would be a constant challenge.
Thrusting such musings aside, she assumed a smile and placed a hand on Leete’s other arm.
“I daresay I’m the envy of every gentleman here,” said the major.
“Miss Kirtland and my wife have a knack for attracting attention,” drawled the earl. “I will count on you to ward off any unwelcome advances.”
Leete’s grin gave way to a more alert expression. “That goes without saying.”
Cocking a quick salute, Saybrook turned and headed back toward the main entrance of the Palais-Royal.
“Are we expecting trouble?” he murmured.
“What fun would a pleasure garden be if there wasn’t a soupçon of trouble lurking within the dark shadows?” jested Arianna.
“Quite so,” said Leete in amiable agreement. “Shall we go take a look at the performers by the fountain? I’ve heard there is one fellow who puts on a show of swallowing a flaming sword.”
The oohs and ahhs grew louder as they drew near to the circle of spectators ringing the fountain. Two men dressed as court jesters were juggling colored balls, with occasional tosses back and forth, much to the delight of the onlookers. Behind them, the sword-swallower had taken a perch on the low ledge of the stone pool, and with a dramatic flourish lit the tip of his short-bladed rapier from the oil lantern set at his feet.
A hush fell over the crowd.
Turning in profile, the fellow tipped back his head and raised the sword.
Slowly, slowly, the tip descended and disappeared into the open mouth.
Arianna bit back a laugh. Having worked in a theatrical company that made its money fleecing gullible spectators, she knew all the little tricks of the trade.
Illusion and sleight of hand. Those early hardscrabble years had proved useful training for her current life.
The crowd began to murmur as the hilt paused just above the fellow’s mouth, then began its ascent.
Well done. She gave him high marks for his acting—
Suddenly aware of a hand brushing against the hidden pocket of her gown, Arianna tried to turn, but Leete’s muscled bulk on her right and the press of people on her left held her in check.
Feeling her agitation, the major asked, “Is something amiss?”
“No,” answered Arianna, but as she spoke her probing fingers hit up against a folded piece of paper.
The spectators burst into applause and surged forward to toss coins into the collection plate as the sword-swallower waved the still-glowing rapier and took a bow.
“Shall we move away to a less crowded spot?” she suggested.
Leete led them around a neatly pruned hedge to one of the side paths. The boisterous noise gave way to the gentle rustling of the breeze through the leaves of a nearby tree.
“What’s that?” demanded Sophia, seeing the flutter of white.
“I’ll see in a moment. “Arianna unfolded the note. “Stroll down the Dark Walk in 10 minutes,” she read.
“As if we would walk into an obvious trap,” muttered Leete. “Does the dastard think we are utter fools?”
Arianna angled the paper to catch the moonlight and studied the writing. “On the contrary, I think it would be foolish not to go.”
“But—”
“Which way is the Dark Walk?”
“But I promised Saybrook—”
“Trust me, Saybrook would agree with my decision.”
“There’s no need for worry, sir.” Sophia shook her reticule, setting off a faint metallic clink. “Lady Saybrook and I are both armed, and I’m assuming you have a pistol on your person. There’s no chance that a dastard is going to get the best of us.”
The major signaled his surrender with an unhappy sigh. “Draw your weapons.” He did the same. “I’ll lead the way, but once we reach the head of the Dark Walk, you two will go ahead—walking abreast so you can keep guard on both sides as well as ahead— and I’ll drop behind to bring up the rear.”
“Agreed,” answered Arianna. Leete was a seasoned soldier, experienced in all the ugly elements of warfare.
His jaw tightened, but after a moment of hesitation, he gave a brusque wave. “Follow me—and let us pray that Saybrook won’t have reason to ask for my head on a platter.”
Their destination was set at the far end of the grounds. Darkness blanketed the entrance to the grassy walkway, the creak of the unlit lanterns swinging in the breeze adding a frisson of impending danger to the midnight chill. Shadows slithered within shadows as they moved through the wrought iron archway into a wide path that led through a grove of trees.
The soft ground muffled their footfalls. Arianna heard the scrabbling of trysting couples within the bushes, but the sounds soon gave way to an uneasy stillness, save for the whispery murmur of the leaves. She and Sophia slowed their steps as the gloom deepened.
Her friend flinched at the snap of a twig, and Leete hissed an order to halt.
Silence.
Arianna shifted her stance, pistol ready. They waited . . . and heard only the low twitter of a nightingale.
Leete tapped her shoulder—a sign to continue on.
She started forward . . .
And froze as a lone figure cloaked in a swirl of dark wool slipped free of the leafy shadows just ahead of them.
“Don’t shoot,” came the fluttery request. The hood of the cloak slid down, and as a flicker of moonlight broke through the clouds, Arianna lowered her weapon.
“Thank heavens you’ve finally shown your face,” she said. “I was beginning to fear that my wits were coming unhinged.”
Chapter 20
“Please don’t ring a peal over my head,” Paloma Marone-Cinzano brushed an errant lock of hair from her cheek. “I can explain.”
“Please do so.” Feeling a rush of relief at seeing their erstwhile comrade-in-arms from Brussels, Arianna allowed a wry smile. “This cursed web of intrigue has entangled all of us in its sticky strands. But I pray we can now start working together to stop whatever evil is afoot.”
“Are you on a mission?” demanded Leete, a note of reproach shading his voice. “And you didn’t ask for my help?”
“We weren’t at liberty to do so,” said Sophia.
“Things were too fraught,” Arianna added. “Circumstance made us question whether we could trust even our closest friends.”
“Si, it’s a fiendishly clever plot,” said Paloma. “But I’ve unraveled—”
At a cracking from within the trees, both Leete and Sophia spun around, their pistols cocked and ready. The sound came again, and an instant later a fox darted across the path and disappeared in the underbrush.
“There is much to tell,” said Paloma, after drawing a steadying breath. “But I’d rather do it once, with Saybrook present, and in a more secure place. As you said, evil is treading all around us.”
“Let us make our way back to one of the exits from the main plaza,” said Arianna. “The three of us will head to our carriage and wait there for Leete to fetch Sandro.”
The major nodded his agreement to the plan. “Stay alert. As we all know, Trouble can strike at any moment.”
Thankfully, they managed to dodge whatever trouble might have been lurking in the woods. The earl, along with Leete, joined them for the ride back to their mansion, and they were all soon settled in the parlor, with a pot of freshly-made hot chocolate set on the tea table next to the bottle of Spanish brandy and Scottish malt.
“Dio Madre, I have missed your spiced chocolate,” murmured Paloma as she took another appreciative sip.
“While I find myself yearning for a wee dram of whisky,” announced Leete. He cocked the bottle at the earl. “Though I’m rather offended at your keeping me in the dark about a secret mission here in Paris, I shall be happy to pour a glass for you, as well.”
“I prefer brandy,” answered Saybrook.
“What have I missed?” Constantina appeared in the doorway, a mobcap over her silver curls and a silk wrapper concealing her nightrail.
“Nothing as of yet,” answered Arianna. Leete knew nothing about the accusations against Grentham, and no mention had been made of it during the carriage ride.
“Good heavens, is that Paloma ?” The dowager gave an owlish blink. “When did you fly in?”
“Let us put aside pleasantries for the moment. We are just about to begin a council of war . . .” Arianna fixed Paloma with an expectant look. She sensed an urgency thrumming beneath the outward show of self-control. “And apparently, our friend has much to tell us on that score.”
Damn the treacherous dastards who have managed to get us doubting whether we can trust each other, she thought. But for now, they must be cautious.
“I hardly know where to start,” replied Paloma. She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Ye gods, unraveling truth from lies has been a daunting challenge.”
“As well we know,” murmured Saybrook.
“Yes, well, I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when I got word from the Foreign Office that Grentham was a fugitive accused of treason,” continued Paloma.”
A longtime secret spy for the British government, the Spanish beauty had crossed paths with Saybrook during the Peninsular War, and then again several months ago in Brussels, where she had been instrumental in helping them foil a plot to sow discord between the Allied forces opposing Napoleon.
In the course of the action, she had saved Grentham’s life.
And he had saved hers.
“Grentham a traitor?” exclaimed Leete. “That can’t be!”
“We were all taken by surprise by the accusation,” answered the earl. “But surely you understand why,” he continued, his gaze locked on Paloma, “given the debt you owed him, we couldn’t reach out to you until things became clearer.”
“And have they?” demanded Leete.
“Not entirely,” said Arianna. “The questions as to where true loyalties lie is fraught with complexities.”
“Meaning,” said Paloma in a matter-of-fact voice, “the fact that I’ve worked for years for Sir Joshua in the Foreign Office could test my gratitude to Grentham.”
Leete appeared nonplussed. “I-I fear you’ve lost me.”
“That’s because the world of intrigue doesn’t play by the same rules of gentlemanly honor as you do,” explained Saybrook. “Betrayals and double-crosses are a way of life in the shadows. What Signora Marone-Cinzano was implying that it’s possible Sir Joshua is part of a conspiracy to make Grentham look guilty and strip him of his power. And that we might suspect she has sided with her spymaster rather than the minister.”
He paused for a sip of brandy. “I’m sure Signora Marone-Cinzano is wondering where our loyalties lie. After all, Arianna and I have an unpleasant history with Grentham.”
Paloma smiled. “I wouldn’t have survived this long as an agent if I didn’t consider all the possibilities.”
“I’m surprised that Grentham isn’t here, lurking in the shadows and taking sardonic enjoyment in the theatrics of friends doubting friends,” said Sophia.
“Perhaps he is.” Arianna couldn’t help rising and moving quickly to the doorway to check up and down the corridor.
Sophia pointed to the terrier sleeping at her feet. “He’s not. Hobbes would have barked.”
Shifting in his seat, the earl squared his shoulders and leaned forward. “Unraveling truth from lies,” he said, repeating Paloma’s earlier words. “How do you suggest we decide whether we trust each other?”
“Quite simply,” came the answer. “I’ve trusted all of you with my life, and the life of my daughter. If you tell me you believe that Grentham is innocent, and you are working to prove it, I shall take your word for it.”
“We are,” answered Arianna. “And you?”
“Yes. I am. I’m certain he’s innocent—which I’ll explain in a moment.” A pause. “Assuming you wish for me to go on.”
“At times like this,” said Sophia. “I think it’s best to listen to one’s heart, not just one’s head. “ Her mouth curled up at the corners. “Call it women’s intuition.”
“A force to be reckoned with,” chimed in Constantina.
“Indeed it is.” Arianna raised a brow. “Well? Are the gentlemen satisfied that we’re all on the same side?”
The earl murmured something in Spanish that made Paloma laugh. “A wise choice, milord,” she responded. “Your wife is awfully skilled with a cleaver and fillet knife.”
Leete refilled his glass and raised a toast. “To fighting . . . whatever evil we are fighting. Having witnessed our little regiment in action, I don’t think Lucifer himself would stand a chance against us.”
“Gracias a Dios.” Paloma expelled a sigh of relief. “Pierson and I were praying that we could count on your help—”
“Is he here with you?” interrupted Arianna.
George Pierson was Grentham’s most trusted operative. She and Saybrook had worked with him on Elba, where he had undertaken a very dangerous mission in an attempt to stop Napoleon from escaping. They had thought he had perished in the attempt, but in fact he had ended up as a French prisoner. The recent trip to Brussels had been rescue mission—a successful one, though Pierson had suffered grievous injuries under French interrogation.
“No, his injuries are still not healed enough for him to attempt any clandestine activities. But ever since we heard of the accusations against the minister, he has been calling in favors from his vast network of informants in hopes of undercovering who’s behind the conspiracy.”
“And?” demanded Saybrook.
“We’re confident that we have identified a major player in the Foreign Office—it’s Lord Frederick Boylston—and we know for certain that Orlov is working for them. However, the ringleader still remains a mystery,” replied Paloma.
“Boylston?” Saybrook uttered a low oath. “My uncle will be devasted. He considers the man a good friend and an excellent diplomat.”
“What would make a man like that betray his country?” whispered Sophia.
“Greed, ambition, the lust for power,” responded the earl. “Or perhaps one of the elemental dark urges of human nature.” His jaw clenched for an instant. “Who can say for sure what tempts people to abandon any sense of right and wrong?”
