He gave a mocking laugh. “Yet another question to add to our growing list.” Squaring his shoulders, he turned for the main walkway. “But enough worrying. We must appear to be enjoying ourselves.”
Passing through a stone archway, they entered the building that Metternich had constructed specially for the celebration. Encircled by classical pillars, the wooden building was crowned by a dome that soared high overhead.
“Shall we stroll out to the gardens?” inquired Saybrook. “Royalty will be dining inside, while the rest of us will partake of a supper under the stars.”
Arianna followed, calming her flutter of nerves with a few deep breaths. Steady, steady. I’ve played enough roles not to have stage fright. Most of the other guests were probably just as much imposters as she was.
The estate gardens were no less magnificent. Countless lanterns lit the winding walkways, the flickering flames illuminating the formal plantings and marble fountains. White tents dotted the grounds, and beneath the shimmering silk, servants dispensed Tokay wines and champagne. Several orchestras were tucked discreetly behind hedges in different parts of the estate, the lilting notes of the violins echoing the faint trilling of the nightingales.
At the crest of the sloping lawn stood three classical faux temples. Moonlight dappled over the pale stone, its silvery glow swirling in tandem with the troupe of ballet dancers performing among the pillars.
Mesmerized by the fairy tale splendor of the scene, Arianna stood in rapt wonder, drinking it all in.
“Look—there’s Kydd,” said Saybrook.
His whisper jarred her back to reality. “Shall I stroll over to see him while you make a show of picking one of the plumed Birds of Paradise to flirt with?”
The opening chords of a Mozart sonata drifted through the greenery. “It would be best if he thinks we are not in harmony with each other,” answered her husband. “I shall meet up with you later.”
She turned, but the touch of his hand held her back for just a moment.
“Be careful. For all its veneer of civilized splendor, Vienna is a jungle—a jungle where predators are always on the prowl.”
“Lady Saybrook.” Looking up at the sound of her steps on the graveled path, Kydd appeared upset, though he quickly covered it with a tentative smile. “How lovely to see you.” After glancing around, he added, “Are you . . . alone?”
“I’ve been abandoned by my husband,” she answered. She gave a curt wave at the sparkling lights of the main lawns. “He met several Spanish ladies of his acquaintance and they wished to be at the center of the festivities.”
“Quite a spectacle, is it not?” remarked Kydd, sounding distracted. On edge.
“If you enjoy watching the rich revel in decadent pleasures,” she said softly.
He studied her face for a long moment. “Would you care to take a stroll to a quieter part of the gardens?”
“Please,” she murmured, accepting his arm. “I would much rather converse with a friend than cavort with strangers.” Her slippers slid lightly over the stones. “I do hope that I may consider you a friend, Mr. Kydd.”
“Yes, of course, Lady Saybrook.” His voice grew taut. “I’m honored that you ask.”
They walked in silence for a bit, the noises of the party fading until the only sound was the breeze ruffling through the leaves of the tall boxwood hedge bordering the path.
“It’s so peaceful here, now that we’re away from the crowd.” She sighed. “I hate these gatherings with all their false laughter, false flatteries and false promises.”
He nodded. “Believe me, I know how you feel.” Arianna paused and looked up at the heavens. Careful, careful—one false move and I will ruin everything.
Expelling a sigh, she turned her head slightly to meet his searching stare. “Do you?”
Kydd blinked.
“You speak so eloquently about noble principles. I—I come away from our talks feeling inspired by your idealism. And yet . . .” She deliberately let her voice trail off.
A glimmer of starlight ghosted over his profile, catching the tiny, telltale tic of his jaw.
Oh, the folly of youthful passions, she thought, suddenly feeling old as Methuselah.
“Lady Saybrook, may I ask you a personal question?”
At her hesitation, his pale skin darkened in embarrassment. “Forgive me—”
“No, please. Of course you may.”
He cleared his throat. “Why did you marry the earl?”
“I take it you have heard that ours was not a love match.”
Kydd shifted uncomfortably. “Mr. Mellon does not indulge in gossip. But I couldn’t help overhearing several private exchanges with Lord Saybrook in which he voiced reservations about the match.”
“I can’t say that I blame him.” Arianna let her tone go a little rough around the edges. “I was caught up in a scandal—please don’t ask me to explain—and so was the earl. I had precious few choices.” She shrugged. “As you know, females have little control over their destiny.”
“I did not mean to stir painful memories,” he said haltingly.
“Don’t apologize.” A tentative smile softened her expression. “Your company has been a source of comfort to me. It is very heartening to be able to converse with someone who shares similar beliefs.”
“I do share them,” assured Kydd. “I haven’t betrayed my beliefs by working for the Foreign Office.”
No—just your country and the honorable man who nurtured your career.
“I am not at liberty to say more,” he whispered. “But I am working to effect real change, and create a better world for the future.”
Arianna greeted his words with a tremulous sigh. “Oh, how I admire you. A better world—I shall look forward to that.”
Kydd relaxed slightly. “Change is not easy, but there are goals that are worth fighting for. However . . .”
Suddenly alert, she held herself very still, hoping that he would go on.
“However . . . I am having some second thoughts about how to achieve my aim.”
“Would it help to talk about it?” she asked softly. “I cannot promise to have all the answers, but sometimes simply expressing your doubts aloud helps to clarify your feelings.”
“You—you are very kind. I can’t tell you how fortunate I feel to have a friend I can trust.”
Arianna looked away, repressing a twinge of guilt by reminding herself that Kydd and his cohorts were planning a cold-blooded murder.
“I can’t help but wonder . . .” Shuffling his feet, he abruptly offered her his arm. “Shall we continue along this path?” He gestured at a shadowed stretch of gardens up ahead. “A display of fireworks is planned for later, and as Herr Steuer is famous for his pyrotechnics, it promises to be spectacular. The rockets are being set up near the North Gate, so we shall have a better vantage point from up close.” His hand tucked a fold of her shawl more securely around her shoulders. “There is also going to be a balloon ascension to top off the entertainment.”
“That sounds very exciting.”
As they moved off at a leisurely pace, her mind began to race. Kydd was coming tantalizingly close to revealing his secrets. She didn’t want to risk making him suspicious, and yet surely there was some way she could take advantage of his current mood.
Information—Sandro needs specific details, not vague hints that merely corroborate what we already know.
Arianna thought for a moment, and then a gleam of light from behind the thickets of greenery sparked an idea. “Oh, look! They are beginning to inflate the balloon.” Looking up at the sky, she added, “Sometimes, when I stare at the stars, I let my imagination soar.”
Kydd tilted his head upward.
“You may think me foolish, but I like to think of the words that inspire me. Ones like ‘hope’ and ‘dream.’ ”
“It’s not foolish at all, Lady Saybrook.” He moved closer—so close that she could smell the warm scent of his bay rum shaving soap.