1. Heat half-and-half and sugar together in a heavy saucepan over medium-low heat, stirring until sugar dissolves. Add chocolates and butter and whisk until smooth. Set aside to let cool briefly.
2. Stir in egg yolks and cook over low heat for 3 minutes, stirring constantly. Set aside to let cool slightly.
Gold, glitter and glamour.
Everything in Vienna was done to sumptuous excess, thought Arianna as she and Saybrook approached the entrance of Metternich’s palatial villa on the Rennweg the next evening. Elegant carriages filled the surrounding streets, the plumed horses prancing in place on the stone cobbles as the richly dressed crowd squeezed its way through the ornate iron gates. The Austrian minister’s Peace Ball was one of the most anticipated entertainments of the Conference, and it was clear that he had spared no expense on the extravaganza.
Tonight I shall waltz in silk and satin amidst the flaming splendor of the garden torchieres, while come morning, I will once again don boots and breeches in order to dance from the fire into the frying pan.
“Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you join the unwashed masses who serve these gluttons of pleasure,” murmured Saybrook, his caustic wit sharpened by the fact that he still had misgivings about her masquerade.
A week ago, they had hammered out the details of the plan over a long, leisurely breakfast. And so while Monsieur Richard toiled in the subterranean kitchens of the Kaunitz Palace, the Countess of Saybrook had become increasingly prone to headaches, causing her to cry off from several prominent parties. Two birds with one stone. Her absence had allowed her not only a chance to spy on Talleyrand but had also garnered further sympathy from Kydd.
The young Scotsman already envisioned himself as a heroic knight fighting for noble ideals. A damsel in distress seemed to appeal to his notions of honor.
“Then get me some champagne,” she replied, seeing a footman passing by with libations.
Saybrook plucked two glasses from the tray and handed one to her.
“A su salud,” he murmured in Spanish, raising the cut crystal in ironic salute. The pale liquid glowed like molten gold in the torchlight, its sparkling effervescence mirroring the countless diamond-bright stars overhead. “May we spin through this whirling dervish dance of deception without a stumble.”
The tiny bubbles of the wine prickled like dagger points against her tongue.
Deception? She had played so many different roles in her life that at times, she wasn’t sure who she really was. Luckily, Monsieur Richard was a persona who was as comfortable as a second skin.
“Don’t worry. I’m on firm footing in the kitchen,” answered Arianna. “All is going smoothly.”
His gaze remained riveted on the heavens, as if he were having a silent conversation with Ursa Major and Orion. Or perhaps he was offering up some sort of a prayer to the pagan constellations. “How fortunate that Carême was so impressed with Monsieur Richard’s impeccable credentials as a skilled pastry chef.”
Her lips twitched. “The letter of recommendation from the Prince Regent of England was most impressive.”
Her husband possessed a number of interesting talents, as she was slowly discovering. One of which was an expertise in the forgery of letters and seals, learned as part of his military intelligence skills.
Saybrook chuckled and then drew her aside as a line of heralds, resplendent in gold-threaded livery, trumpeted the arrival of yet another royal. “The King of Wurttemberg,” he muttered as an enormously fat man toddled by. “It’s said that a special half moon has been cut in one of the Emperor’s dining tables to accommodate his girth.”
“Good God,” said Arianna through her teeth after slanting another look around. “In some ways I sympathize with the radicals of the French Revolution. The amount of money that is squandered by the aristocracy on personal vanity is . . . obscene.” The torchieres danced in the swirling breeze, the towering tongues of flames gilding the crowd with a golden glow. “Let us hope that this Peace Conference can right some of the more egregious inequities of the old social order. Merit should matter more than birth.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” murmured Saybrook. “But much as I sympathize with democratic ideals in principle, I can’t condone murder as a means of achieving those goals.”
Arianna nodded, their bantering mood disappearing along with the last swallow of champagne. No mere mortal has the right to play God.
“So we must set aside our personal dismay at the extravagant excesses and concentrate on stopping Kydd and his cohorts from carrying out their plan.”
“In other words, keep my focus on the mission,” she said.
“Much as I hate to say it, the real goal is to keep Kydd’s focus on you for tonight,” responded Saybrook. “Despite the new plans, you must continue to try to win his trust.”
“Yes, I know.” She watched the shifting patterns of colors, the hues blurring and blending as the guests moved in and out of the light and shadows.
“I’ve been thinking about the code you showed me this morning. You said that it’s not necessarily more complex than the one you solved at the marquess’s estate, just different, correct?”
Saybrook confirmed her statement with a gruff nod. “I made a lucky guess concerning the key word. Intuition tells me that we’re still looking at Vigenère Square, but a new key word has been used to make it even more secure.” He made a face. “It could be anything.”
“The individual who wrote it might well use a word that has some personal significance. Something like a battle cry, a motto, a hero.”
The earl’s gaze sharpened. “Possibly.”
“Do you think Kydd wrote it?”
He thought for a long moment before answering. “Hard to say. Again, it’s possible. I’m assuming that the codes I cracked were meant for whoever is in charge of the assassination plot. The unsolved one may well be for the head of the whole conspiracy.” His hand tightened around his empty glass. “But the damnable truth is, it’s all mere conjecture. So far, my guesses have all come up empty.”
“You need more information to work with,” said Arianna resolutely. She didn’t like to see his face pinched in such a brooding uncertainty. “Time to go flutter around Kydd and see if I can get him to share some of his innermost secrets.”
“I don’t see how he can keep from acting the hungry cat with a canary,” said Saybrook, darting a sidelong look at her plunging neckline.
“Actually, I feel a little like a drab English sparrow flitting among a flock of regal Birds of Paradise.” She smoothed the heavy silk of her gown over her hips as she made another survey of the crowd. “My London plumage pales in comparison to the Continental styles.”
There was no denying that the ladies who had flocked to Vienna from all over Europe were elegant in the extreme. The colorful crepe outer dresses were complemented by a whisper of pastel satin underneath. Sleeves were long and edged with lace, or short poufs of silk paired with long white gloves. On this particular evening, the ladies had been asked to wear blue or white, the colors of Peace, and in the twilight, the rippling of silks and satins created a sparkling sea of ocean hues. Gold and silver embroidery accentuated the effect, as did the profusion of precious stones and pearls.
“The Count de Ligne has described the ladies as looking like brilliant meteors when the dancing begins,” murmured Saybrook.
Arianna could well imagine it to be true. “Yes, they must spin by in a blinding blur of light.”
“Illusions,” muttered her husband, unmoved by all the finery.
“The gentlemen are equally dazzling,” she pointed out. “Look at all the gold braid and gaudy medals. Good God, if they all were such magnificent warriors, why wasn’t Napoleon exiled to Elba years ago?”