“I would rather that the Almighty help us with a far more dangerous threat,” remarked Arianna. “However unwittingly, his wife was actually of some help tonight.” As she drew in a breath, she could almost taste a hint of sugar wafting in the smoke-scented air. “A connoisseur of cuisine with a fondness for sweets . . . I think we must contrive to meet Monsieur le Prince Talleyrand without delay.”
“That shouldn’t prove difficult,” said Saybrook. “Castlereagh just informed me that your other admirer, Comte Rochemont, is residing at the Kaunitz Palace as part of the French delegation. His family connections with the restored French King accord him such rank and privileges, though Talleyrand is not overly pleased with the arrangement.”
“However, it suits our needs perfectly,” she replied. “I see that I will have to encourage the attentions of both Rochemont and Kydd.” Even though there is an old adage about burning the candle at both ends. “And yet, I must take care not to ignite a rivalry between them.”
“On the contrary,” said her husband. “Jealousy will likely work in our favor. A man vying for the attentions of a beautiful woman will often allow passion to overrule reason.”
Passion. A powerful, primitive force.
Saybrook’s expression betrayed no emotion. Cool. Calm. Controlled. She had never met anyone so in command of his feelings. The only hint that he was not so detached was the slow, silent flick of his lashes, shadowy specters of black obscuring his chocolate-dark eyes.
“I shall do my best not to embarrass you by stirring talk of my scandalous flirtations,” said Arianna slowly. “An unhappy wife, seeking amusements elsewhere—”
“Is nothing out of the ordinary,” he interrupted. “Dalliances are de rigueur for the ton. Any speculation on your amorous activities will be lost in all the gossip about the royal transgressions.”
“How very lowering to know that I merit so little interest,” she quipped.
“Let us pray it stays that way.” Saybrook took her arm—possessively, or so it seemed. “The less our unknown adversary has reason to turn his eye on you, the better.”
14
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, for greasing
½ teaspoon baking powder
1 tablespoon lukewarm water
1¾ cups finely ground plus 2 tablespoons roughly chopped almonds
1½ cups plus 2 tablespoons flour
1 cup sugar
2 tablespoons chocolate chips
1 tablespoon cocoa powder
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
½ teaspoon kosher salt
½ cup Strega or Galliano liqueur
⅓ cup coffee, at room temperature
1. Heat oven to 325°. Grease 2 parchment-lined baking sheets with butter and set aside. In a small bowl, whisk together baking powder and 1 tbsp. lukewarm water until dissolved, 20 seconds.
2. Combine ground and chopped almonds, flour, sugar, chocolate chips, cocoa powder, oil and salt in a large bowl. With a wooden spoon, vigorously stir in the baking powder mixture, liqueur, and coffee to form a wet dough.
3. Divide the dough into 1-oz. portions. Using your hands, roll dough portions into balls and transfer to prepared baking sheets spaced about 1 inch apart. Bake until set, about 30 minutes. Transfer cookies to racks and let cool to firm before serving.
“And here we are back at the Hofburg Palace.” David Kydd offered his arm to Arianna as they waited to cross the busy street. “Though here in Vienna, it is simply called the ‘Burg.’ ”
“I still am amazed at how big it is,” said Arianna, placing a hand on his sleeve. It had proved easy to engage the young diplomat as her escort for sightseeing. For the last week they had been meeting almost daily to explore the city’s splendors. “I’ve been told that the main courtyard was designed as a jousting field.”
“Yes, monarchs always wish to awe their subjects,” replied Kydd with a wry grin. “Some of the visiting rulers of Europe are here as the Austrian Emperor’s guests,” he went on, as they passed into the massive courtyard. “Tsar Alexander is quartered in the Amalienburg wing, while the King of Prussia is in the old Schweizerhof section.”
“Thank you for serving as such a gracious guide,” she replied. They had spent the morning visiting the Belvedere Palace and the coffeehouses of the Prater park while Saybrook worked in the palace library. “I enjoyed it very much . . .” She deliberately added a tiny sigh. “But now, I’m afraid it’s time for me to go meet my husband.”
“It was my pleasure, Lady Saybrook,” said Kydd. “Perhaps tomorrow you would like to see the famous zoo.”
Arianna smiled. Her thinly veiled complaints about the earl’s selfishness and neglect seemed to be bearing fruit. The Scotsman’s reserve was melting, and he was growing warmer in expressing his sympathies. She in turn was becoming increasingly vocal in expressing admiration for his political ideas. With just a little coaxing on her part, their conversations were turning more and more to mutual criticisms of the aristocracy and its arrogant assumption of entitlement.
“I would like that very much.”
Kydd inclined a small bow. “Until tomorrow, then.”
Arianna quickly entered the palace and requested that one of the Imperial footmen lead her through the maze of corridors to the library wing.
That Kydd saw her as a kindred soul stirred a slight twinge of guilt—until she reminded herself of how he had betrayed Mellon.
If one lives by the sword, one must be prepared to die by the sword.
Speaking of which . . .
Rochemont added yet another twist to the tangle of truth and lies. Biting back an unladylike oath, Arianna turned her thoughts to her other admirer. The comte was becoming more aggressively amorous. A billet-doux had arrived for her just after Saybrook’s departure from breakfast. Along with a flowery—and rather racy—love poem, it contained a last-minute invitation to join him in dining with Talleyrand that evening.
The suggestion was that she might consent to serving as dessert after the meal.
Sugar and spice.
Arianna felt her mouth pinch to a cynical smile. Unlike Eve and her rosy red apple, she must somehow manage to dangle temptation in front of a hungry male without allowing him a bite.
“This way, madam,” intoned the footman, his voice holding a note of faint reproach for her lagging pace.
Quickening her steps, Arianna followed him through several more turns before coming to a set of iron-banded double oak doors, their panels black with age.
“The Botanical Room,” announced her guide, as the oiled hinges swung open without a sound. “His Lordship is working in here.”
Glass-globed wall lamps cast a softly flickering glow over the sherry-colored paneling and carved acanthus leaf moldings. Framed by the decorative woodwork, towering bookcases rose up from the parquet floor to the painted plaster ceiling.
Looking around from one of the Italianate work tables set along the bank of leaded windows, Saybrook took an instant to blink away a look of intense concentration. He brushed a lock of his long hair back from his brow. “How did your morning walk with Kydd go?”
“I think I am moving forward,” she said. “He is becoming increasingly vocal about his frustrations with the British government and its rigid notions of superiority. I’m fanning his feeling of discontent with my own rantings about the oppressive tyranny of Society. With a few more hints about how much I long to strike a real blow against the Old Order instead of simply talking about it, I might get him to confide in me.”