The hazy half light seemed to accentuate his troubled scowl. “I have every respect for your formidable skills, my dear. And yet, I cannot forget that without my intervention, they would not have protected you from a horrible death.”
“We have gone over all of this. I understand and accept the risks, Sandro,” Arianna reminded him. “What else should I know about Metternich?”
He hesitated, and then gave in with a grudging sigh. “At the upcoming congress, he will be intent on creating order and stability on the Continent. He’s enough of a realist to realize that means peace with France, so he will be open to Talleyrand’s ideas. My guess is he’s more concerned with the mercurial Tsar of Russia, who looms as a large and unpredictable power to his east.”
“I see,” she said. “And Alexander? Is he really as bad as the picture painted in the English press?” The Tsar had recently paid a visit to London, and had earned scathing criticism for his arrogance and boorish manners.
“The Tsar is a complex person,” replied Saybrook. “He’s a strange mixture of conflicting characteristics. He was greatly influenced by his grandmother, Catherine the Great, who had him tutored in the liberal ideals of the Enlightenment. After coming to the throne, he championed the idea of sweeping social reform in Russia. But as of yet, little change has really happened. A part of him is very autocratic and intolerant of criticism. He has a mystical side—some would call it messianic—and believes that God has chosen him to be a spiritual leader.”
“And thus all should obey his commands?” remarked Arianna.
“Precisely,” said her husband.
“Men like that are . . . dangerous,” she mused. “Are the reports of his amorous exploits true?” Gossip about the Tsar’s rapacious pursuit of women had been a popular subject in London during his recent visit to England.
“Alexander wants to feel loved,” answered Saybrook somewhat obliquely. “He flirts shamelessly and seems to feel that a woman’s physical surrender is an affirmation of his worth.”
An astute assessment. The earl was a dispassionate judge of character, an ability that sometimes left her feeling a little uncomfortable.
How does he see me?
Tucking the fur-lined carriage blanket around her middle, Arianna leaned back against the squabs. It was, she decided, a question best left unspoken.
“I hear he is called the Angel,” she said, affecting an air of nonchalance to hide her uncertainty. “Is he handsome? I only caught a glimpse of him from afar when he was in Town, so it was hard for me to judge.”
“In his youth, he was considered ethereally attractive.” Saybrook’s expression finally betrayed a hint of humor. “But of late, he has been partying so hard that it is said he has put on a good deal of weight, so that a messenger had to be dispatched back to Moscow for a new set of uniforms.”
“Ah—a glutton for pleasure? Perhaps I can ply him with chocolate and coax some useful tidbits of information out of him.”
“Perhaps.” He turned pensive. “He and Talleyrand were close in the past, so it’s possible that he is in some way involved in this intrigue. However”—he ran a hand along the line of his jaw—“I think that we will find Talleyrand at the heart of this conspiracy. Of all the men coming to Vienna, he is the one to fear most.”
“Come, open your eyes, Arianna. You should not miss seeing your arrival in Vienna.”
Vienna.
She shifted against the squabs and brushed a palm over the fogged window glass. “Vienna,” she murmured softly, now wide-awake as they rolled over the majestic stone bridge spanning the Danube River. The currents swirled, quicksilver flickers of sunlight dancing across the dark water.
“ ‘The haunt of the Hapsburgs is famous for its parks,’ ” read Saybrook, quoting a passage from the guidebook they had purchased in London. “According to this, we should be passing the Augarten at any moment.”
The coach lumbered past a vast swath of Baroque gardens, formal lawns and shaded walkways. “ ‘The flowering landscape is designed in the French style,’ ” Saybrook continued. “ ‘And its avenues are lined with stately chestnut, lime, ash and maple trees. Within the grounds are dining and dance halls for the public, as well as a grand palace.’ ”
“Interesting,” she murmured, trying to read the elaborate inscriptions above the gate.
The earl seemed to be enjoying his role as tour guide. As they rolled toward the center of the city, he thumbed to a new section in the book. “The walls of the old medieval town were said to have been built with ransom money from Richard the Lionheart.”
The horses circled a large fountain, and then they were bumping over the cobbles of the narrow, twisting streets.
“Look up and you will see St. Stephen’s Cathedral.” Saybrook pointed out the soaring limestone cathedral with its Romanesque towers and intricately patterned tile roof. “Its main bell is one of the largest in Europe and was cast out of cannons captured from the Muslim invaders in 1711.”
“East versus West,” she said. “I daresay we will see our share of modern-day conflict.”
The earl regarded the weathered stone for a moment before nodding.
Arianna still felt a little like a wide-eyed child as she looked out at the elegant storefronts and the streets crowded with wealthy merchants and regal aristocrats. “Is every royal in Europe here?” she asked, watching a procession of gilded carriages drawn by prancing horses.
“I doubt that any of them would wish to miss being part of such a glittering glamorous spectacle.”
“Ha.” Her laugh turned into a yawn.
“We are headed to our rooms now—not that we will have much time to recover from the rigors of travel,” apologized her husband. “We are invited to attend a soiree tonight given by our British envoy, and I think it best we begin work without delay.”
“No rest for the wicked.”
“Indeed, every night there will be drinking, dining and dancing until dawn.”
“Not to speak of other activities,” added Arianna.
“Intrigue never sleeps,” said Saybrook.
“Let us hope that we are allowed a few hours of respite from time to time.” She yawned again. “A splash of cold water and I shall be ready to hunt a fox.”
The earl cracked his knuckles. “Or slay a dragon.”
“The party is being held at Lord Castlereagh’s residence on the Minoritenplatz, which is close by,” said Saybrook, as he stepped into Arianna’s dressing room an hour later. “The evening should end early, for Her Ladyship’s entertainments are thought to be rather dull.”
“I would probably doze through a performance of whirling dervishes,” admitted Arianna. She arched her neck, so her maid could thread a seeding of pearls through the topknot of curls. “Gracias, Theresa. And thanks to you and Juan for putting our quarters in such perfect order so quickly.”
“De nada, señora.” Her maid performed one last adjustment and then quietly withdrew from the room.
“The entertainment will not be nearly so lively,” said Saybrook as he moved through the candlelight to perch a hip on the edge of the dressing table. “There will be no dancing. For Castlereagh, conversation is the center of attention, which is why we are going out of our way to make an appearance.”
“I shall try not to be tongue-tied with fatigue.”
Her quip drew a faint smile. “Not only is it polite to pay our respects, but hearing the latest gossip will give us a good idea of the lay of the land, so to speak.” Flexing his shoulders, he rose. “Are you ready to go down to the carriage ?”
It was only a short journey through the smoke-scented night to the residence of Lord Castlereagh, the head of the British delegation.
“Ah, Saybrook. I wasn’t aware that you and your lovely wife had arrived.” Castlereagh greeted them with a polite nod. “I trust that your uncle is well?”
“Quite. Though I daresay a part of him regrets that he is not here taking part in the negotiations.”