“I have a safe place to keep them,” replied Sophia without batting an eye.
“If I may speak plainly, Miss Kirtland, what Saybrook means to stress is that this is not merely a cerebral challenge,” said Arianna. “It will likely put you at risk of physical harm. Our enemy is ruthless and has no compunction about killing anyone who stands in his way.”
“I do possess a brain, Lady Saybrook,” replied Sophia tartly. “So that fact is rather clear to me.”
The lady may claim she is not skilled with a knife, but she wields her tongue like sharpened steel.
“I was not questioning your intellect.” Arianna tried to keep the edge out of her voice. If they were going to be working together, they could not be at daggers drawn. “But given the gravity of deciding to be a part of this, it would be remiss of me not to emphasize the risks.” She paused. “Has anyone ever held a blade to your throat? Drugged you and threatened to snap your neck? Put a pistol to your temple and cocked the hammer?”
Despite her air of nonchalance, Sophia paled ever so slightly.
“I assure you, it’s a terrifying experience,” went on Arianna. “You want to . . . to . . .” Exhaling, she looked away to shadowed books and papers sitting atop the desk. “Suffice it to say, you should think very carefully about the consequences of joining us. Once you take the first step, there is no going back.”
A sidelong glance showed that Saybrook looked torn between trying to intercede and letting nature take its course. Arianna was sorry to put him in such an awkward position. But it was best to see now whether this new partnership could run smoothly. Any friction would set off sparks. And sparks could be deadly dangerous.
As Arianna waited for the other lady’s response, a cat appeared from behind the damask draperies and slowly sauntered across the carpet. Amber eyes flashed, and the candlelight caught a wide feline yawn and a glittering of needle-sharp teeth. Its jaws closed, and then, with a lazy leap, the animal landed in her lap. Tail twitching, it sheathed and unsheathed its claws before curling into a ball of brindled fur.
The throaty purring rumbled like distant thunder.
Does it presage a coming storm from the cat’s mistress? wondered Arianna, scratching behind the animal’s long, pointed ears.
“Sethos is an astute judge of character,” said Sophia slowly. “He seems to like you.”
The fate of England resting in the paws of an Egyptian cat?
The irony of it made Arianna smile. “I get along well with four-footed creatures. The same can’t be said for people. I tend to be outspoken. Argumentative. Abrasive.” She slanted a glance at her husband. “Saybrook will assure you that I often drive him to distraction.”
“It would be most unfair of me to ask him to compromise his sense of gentlemanly honor,” replied Sophia dryly. “So I will take your word for it.”
“Cats,” muttered the earl under his breath.
Arianna raised a brow. “I beg your pardon, Sandro?”
“Cats,” he repeated. “Mysterious creatures. Quite impossible to read their minds.”
“Yes, and unlike dogs, they can’t be trained to do a man’s bidding,” she murmured.
Her husband chuffed a harried laugh. “That is putting it mildly. Obedience or intelligence—at times it’s a bloody difficult choice as to which is preferable.”
A smile tugged at Sophia’s lips. “I do have some questions.” She consulted her notes. “Given the events in Vienna and Scotland, it would seem to me that this Renard fellow must be aware that you are after him—”
“Not necessarily,” interrupted Saybrook. “You see, both his henchmen were killed during the confusion before the Carrousel in Vienna. We were able to leave the scene before anyone knew we were there, so I’m confident that he received no word of our involvement. As for Scotland, when I learned from Grentham that he had to inform an inner circle of trusted officials of our discovery, I demanded that he use a pseudonym for us when discussing the Austrian mission, as well as the trip to St. Andrews.”
He allowed a small pause. “Given that we have reason to suspect a traitor has access to the most privileged information in Whitehall, it seemed the prudent thing to do. The group of advisers knew us only as Messrs. X, Y and Z—naturally I kept secret the fact that one of our party was a female. So our attackers knew they were striking at government emissaries but didn’t know our actual identities.”
“Assuming Grentham’s word can be trusted,” pointed out Arianna.
“Correct. But as of yet, I have no reason to think otherwise,” answered the earl. “The minister tried to hide it, but he appeared surprised when I alluded to the attack.”
“What about the contacts in St. Andrews?” asked Sophia, after a moment of mulling over what the earl had said.
An astute question, thought Arianna, grudgingly admitting that the other lady seemed to possess sharp analytical skills.
Still, I miss seeing Basil’s rough-cut scowl and rumpled coat across from me rather than a coolly appraising stare and unruffled silk.
“Unless we were betrayed by Grentham, both Stoughton and Rollins were told I was a Spanish officer who had served with Wellington’s staff on the Peninsula. Of course, it’s known that the Earl of Saybrook is half-Spanish, but word has been spread that Arianna and I have been traveling home through Europe and only arrived in London yesterday from the Continent. That should cloud matters enough to keep them in the dark.”
“All good explanations,” mused Sophia. “But if I were Renard, I would be suspicious of why my plans keep going awry. So my guess is, he suspects that someone is onto his scent. And if he is as smart as you think he is, you and your wife have to be high on his list of suspects, regardless of alibis.”
Arianna stilled the twitching of Sethos’s tail. “It’s a game of cat and mouse. We must make sure that we are the predator and not the prey. As to that, we have a few ideas.”
“Any clue as to Renard’s identity?” asked Sophia.
“Two.” Saybrook went on to explain about Lord Reginald Sommers, the Duke of Lampson’s youngest son. “Because of his father’s title and connections, he moved within the highest echelons of Society. Seeing as he appeared to be in charge of the conspirators in Vienna, it seems logical to assume that Renard would be a member of his circle of friends here in London.”
“We have no hard evidence of that,” added Arianna. “However, both of us believe that it makes sense.”
The other lady fixed her with a long look before shifting her gaze back to the earl. “And secondly?”
“In addition, we have Girton’s dying words that warned of someone within the Royal Institution. Again, the words were cryptic, but given that we are after a dangerous chemical, it does make sense.”
“A great many of your discoveries seem to be based on breaking the coded letters you found. How very fortunate that you possess such special skills in cryptanalysis—”
“Actually, it is Arianna who deciphered most of them,” interrupted Saybrook.
Surprise shaded Sophia’s face. “Indeed,” she murmured.
The earl refolded his papers. “Are you still willing to be part of this? As Arianna pointed out, it is not a decision to make lightly, and once you read the first page, you will be committed to the very end.”
“I am always careful about the decisions I make regarding my life, Lord Saybrook,” replied Sophia. “They may be considered eccentric, but they are never unmeditated.”
He acknowledged the statement with a tiny nod.
“That said, I am not intimidated by the dangers . . .”
Was that, wondered Arianna, a subtle challenge directed at her? Damnation, this entire mission was getting more complicated by the moment.
“It is imperative that Renard be stopped from causing more destruction and bloodshed in this world,” went
on Sophia. “If you think I can help, I shall gladly be part of your fight against him.”
“Excellent.” The earl placed the papers on the tea table. “Might we return tomorrow to begin a discussion of strategy?”
“Tomorrow is Christmas, Sandro,” Arianna reminded him. “We have family commitments. As I’m sure does Miss Kirtland.”
A faint flush colored Sophia’s face. “I am not sentimental about holidays,” she said curtly. “And besides, I haven’t spoken to my relatives in years. My cousin, the present duke, finds my company intolerable.” A pause. “The feeling is mutual.”
“Perhaps . . . ,” began Saybrook, then let his voice trail off.
“Perhaps you would care to join us for holiday supper. We dine with Saybrook’s great-aunt, who is a very interesting female, so I don’t think you will be bored.”
Sophia hesitated, an odd flicker sparking in her eyes before she turned her head. “Thank you, but I have work to do.” She pulled a folded sheet of paper from her notebook and made a show of smoothing it out. “I’ve a series of mathematical projections to calculate in support of my current experiment, and the equations are proving perversely complicated.”
Arianna craned her neck for a look. “The problem is there,” she said, tapping her teaspoon to a string of numbers. “Sandro, please hand me your pencil.” To Sophia she added, “May I show you what I mean?”
Looking skeptical, Sophia passed over the paper.
For several minutes, the only sound in the room was the faint whisper of graphite scribbling over foolscap. “There, this new equation should simplify the process of calculating the algorithms.
“Good Lord,” murmured Sophia, her eyes widening just a touch as she looked over the complicated equation. “I wasn’t aware that you are good with numbers.”
“Arianna isn’t merely good with numbers—she is a mathematical wizard,” said Saybrook.
“I have no formal training,” she said quickly. “The knack seems to come naturally.”
“That is a remarkable gift to have.”
Arianna shrugged. “My father had it as well. Though he chose to use it for less than admirable purposes.”
Sophia allowed a fleeting frown and then glanced at the clock. “Is there anything else we need to discuss right now? I have perhaps five minutes more before I must excuse myself.”
“As a matter of fact . . .” Perhaps she was being a trifle thin-skinned about things, but Arianna found herself feeling a little nettled by the other lady’s attitude.
You could say thank you.
“As a matter of fact . . . ,” she repeated, taking care to avoid meeting Saybrook’s eyes. This was not part of the original plan, but in battle one often had to improvise. “There is something we ought to mention, before you make a final commitment. Your help in analyzing the scientific data is, of course, key. But it would be equally important if you would agree to play a more active role in the investigation.”
The mathematical paper crackled softly as Sophia fisted her hands.
“You see, it’s critical that I become friends with the inner circle of the Royal Institution—that is, the followers of Humphry Davy and the interim director, Mr. Willoughby. I assume you attend the lectures there regularly, so if you would agree to introduce me, it would save a great deal of time.”
“Why do you need to gain access to the group?” asked Sophia a little sharply.
“Because I’m good at seducing secrets out of people,” she shot back. “I have a great deal of experience in sorting out lies from truth, and I’m not afraid to use an arsenal of unladylike skills to beat a cunning criminal at his own game.” A pause. “Theoretical knowledge is all very well, but we will also have to be willing to strip off our kidskin gloves and get our hands dirty, if need be.”
“I see,” replied Sophia slowly.
Two could toss down a gossamer gauntlet of challenge, thought Arianna, carefully observing the other lady’s face for her reaction. To her credit, she masked her emotions rather well. Other than a slight thinning of her mouth, her expression did not alter.
“Miss Kirtland,” interceded Saybrook. “Be assured that neither of us expects you to take any real risk—”
“There is an old saying—in for a penny, in for a pound,” drawled Sophia. “I said I would help—but only if I am treated as a full member of the investigation, not some delicate glass beaker that must be wrapped in cotton wool to protect it from cracking.”
“Women,” muttered the earl. “I swear, the fairer sex will badger me into an early grave.”
“I sincerely hope that all of us will survive to lead long and happy lives,” said Arianna, trying to blunt her husband’s ire with a bit of dry humor. “I know you are not happy about any of this, Sandro, but Miss Kirtland is right. She must be fully involved. Half measures will only cause unnecessary confusion and make it more dangerous for her.”
He did not retort, which in itself was an acknowledgment that her words were true.
“Excellent. Then it’s settled,” said Sophia crisply, giving him no chance to reconsider. “When do you wish to start?”
“As soon as possible,” replied Arianna. “I have checked the schedule of lectures. Willoughby is speaking on the twenty-eighth and then hosting a party afterward, with a holiday punch and a pianoforte recital by one of the institution members. It seems a perfect opportunity to introduce me.”
“Let us plan to meet beforehand and go on to the lecture together.”
“One other thing,” counseled Arianna. “I won’t be appearing as myself. As you pointed out earlier, Renard may be suspicious if Lady Saybrook develops a sudden interest in science. So for the duration of this investigation, I shall become . . . someone else.” She switched to a different accent. “A rich widow from America, who has decided to return to her homeland now that the wars are over. I am curious about science—but most of all, I’m curious about people. I’m vain, volatile, and clever at learning the little secrets that can stir up trouble.” A casual wave emphasized the assertion. “Along with a number of other malicious little habits.”
Sophia blinked. “But it is not easy to become an entirely different person, and one slip of the mask will give away the investigation. How can you be sure that you can pull it off?”
“Because I’ve done it a number of times before.” Arianna allowed a tiny smile. “It won’t be the first time that London Society sees me slide into another skin.”
Saybrook confirmed her words with a quick nod. “Arianna is a master of disguise. She’s fooled a great many people. Including me.”
“Though not for long,” she conceded.
“Your wife appears to be a female of many unusual talents,” said Sophia slowly.
“Yes,” murmured the earl. “She is.”
“Well, then, given all our eccentricities, the three of us should make a very formidable force indeed.”
“Yes.” Arianna ran her fingers through the cat’s fur. “I think that Renard may finally have met his match.”
9
From Lady Arianna’s Chocolate Notebooks
Dark Chocolate–Cherry Ganache Bars
11/2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup confectioners’ sugar
1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt
3/4 cup (11/2 sticks) cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch chunks
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 tablespoons cherry jam
12 ounces bittersweet chocolate (at least 62% cocoa)
2/3 cup heavy cream
3 tablespoons kirsch, rum, brandy or other spirit
1/2 teaspoon fleur de sel, for sprinkling
1. In a food processor, pulse together the flour, sugar, cocoa powder and fine-grain sea
salt. Pulse in the butter and vanilla until the mixture just comes together into a smooth mass. Line an 8-inch square baking pan with parchment or wax paper. Press the dough into the pan. Prick all over with a fork. Chill for at least 20 minutes and up to 3 days.
2. Preheat the oven to 325°F. Bake the shortbread until firm to the touch and just beginning to pull away from the sides, 35 to 40 minutes.
3. Cool in the pan for 20 minutes on a wire rack. Brush the jam over the shortbread’s surface and let cool thoroughly.
4. Place the bittersweet chocolate in a heatproof bowl.
5. In a saucepan, bring the cream to a simmer. Pour the cream over the chocolate and whisk until smooth. Whisk in the kirsch. Spread over the shortbread. Sprinkle with the fleur de sel. Cool to room temperature; cover and chill until firm. Slice and serve.
“Come along, gel, and walk with me to the library before the bell summons us to our Christmas feast.” Constantina, the dowager Marchioness of Sterling, set down her glass of sherry and waved a bejeweled hand at Arianna. “I have a lovely little book there that I wish to fetch for Sandro to see.”
“You could send a footman,” pointed out the earl.
“Yes, but then I wouldn’t have a chance to gossip in private with your lovely wife,” shot back his great-aunt. “And seeing as the two of you have been gone for months, I am sure that there are a number of delicious scandals for her to tell me about.”
Charles Mellon, Saybrook’s uncle and a senior diplomat with the Foreign Office, chuckled. “As they were in Vienna, I imagine that Sandro could write a book about royal peccadilloes as well as one on the history of chocolate.”
“Oh, do tell us, is the Russian Tsar as much of a rake as is reported in the newspaper?” asked Mellon’s wife, Eleanor.
Arianna bit back a harried laugh. Given that his name had become entangled in a treasonous plot, Mellon had never been told the real reason for their recent trip to the Austrian capital. He and his wife thought the earl had wished to study the collection of early manuscripts from the New World held at the Emperor’s famous rare book library.
Recipe for Treason: A Lady Arianna Regency Mystery (Lady Arianna Hadley Mystery) Page 11
