“Which are?”
“I’ll tell you all I know, and I’ll help you pursue certain leads—as to how is a detail that I will get to in a moment.”
His face remained expressionless.
“But in return,” she went on, “you must allow me the freedom to follow up on my own concerns. I assure you, they do not conflict with yours.” Arianna paused for a fraction, giving him time to digest what she had said. “That is my offer. Take it or leave it.”
“But you won’t reveal what those concerns of yours are?”
She shook her head.
“You don’t trust me?”
“Good God, no,” she replied. “I’ve learned not to trust anyone.” She slanted a challenging look at him. “Why should I? You aren’t going to claim that you trust me, are you?”
“Good God, no,” he said with a sardonic smile.
“There, you see,” she said. “We are capable of establishing a certain level of honesty with each other. Within such a framework, we could be of use to each other.”
“Perhaps.” Saybrook folded his arms across his chest. “But since you are asking me to hang my cods over the fire, so to speak, I would appreciate a little more assurance that they will not end up burned to a crisp.”
She swallowed a bite of creamed kippers before replying, “That’s a fair request.” Pouring herself another cup of chocolate she added a grating of nutmeg. “By the by, your cook is not half bad. Cilantro and guindilla verde peppers add a piquant flavor to the shirred eggs.”
“I will pass on your compliments,” he said. “But much as I enjoy discussing cuisine, I would prefer that we stick to the subject.
“Very well.” Arianna buttered a thick slice of toast, and then added a dollop of strawberry preserves. “Lady Spencer liked to talk, and I encouraged it. I would prepare a serving of my special hot chocolate on most afternoons, along with a plate of her favorite almond pastries. And while she ate and drank, I asked questions about her circle of friends.”
“Why?”
“I’ve told you, my reasons are not relevant to your interests, Lord Saybrook.”
He grunted. “Go on.”
“So I learned a good many details about the Prince Regent and his current circle of fellow carousers. Suffice it to say, they are a depraved group, but Lord Concord and several of his friends in particular seem to be the leaders in a variety of vices. Lady S hinted that they are members of a secret society. I had to add a little rum to her chocolate in order to loosen her tongue, but I got her to admit that they made mention of the Hellfire Club on more than one occasion. And that she herself had participated in their rites.”
Saybrook straightened slightly in his chair.
She didn’t miss the subtle tensing of his body. “I see that’s got your attention, eh? Yes, well, given its long and sordid history, Lord Dashwood’s creation is likely the hotbed of all sorts of illicit activities.”
“Most of which are prurient sexual practices, not murder,” pointed out the earl.
“What about the dark rumors of rape and human sacrifice?”
He lifted a brow. “That was years ago. The truth is, the club is said to have died out long ago.”
“That does not mean it hasn’t been resurrected by a new group of devils,” she countered.
Saybrook tapped his fingertips together. “You seem awfully knowledgeable on this esoteric bit of history.”
“I have my reasons,” she murmured.
“Yes, yes, I know—which naturally you have no intention of sharing with me.”
“Naturally.” Taking up a fresh cup, she switched from chocolate to coffee. “You ought to ask for a slightly darker roast,” she remarked, taking a moment to sniff the aroma. “These beans are from the Blue Mountains of Jamaica, and the extra heat would caramelize the natural sweetness.”
“For a slender woman, you seem to consume a great deal of food.”
“No doubt I shall grow quite fat in my old age. But for now, I consider eating one of life’s little pleasures.”
“You know, Miss Smith, you ought to be more concerned with your neck than your stomach,” growled Saybrook.
“Irritable this morning, aren’t you? No wonder, seeing as you’ve probably put nothing in your own bread-box, save for opium.”
“I prefer a quiet, contemplative start to the day, and this constant verbal fencing is beginning to stick in my craw.” He rose abruptly, cursing as his leg buckled slightly. “I shall leave you to your meal, seeing as you seem to be taking such great delight in it.” His mouth thinned to a grim line. “Let us hope it is not your last.”
Arianna carefully put down her fork. “Does my appetite offend you?” she asked.
“No, it’s your bloody closemouthed stubbornness,” he replied through gritted teeth. “If I were you, I would be a tad more anxious to help me find the real culprit. Until I do, you remain the prime suspect.”
“I am trying to help,” she retorted. “Shall I draw up a diagram, milord?” Her knife sketched several lines in the air. “The Prince connects to his coterie of fellow reprobates. These men are linked to a secret club . . . I should think it would all be very obvious.”
“Perhaps too obvious.”
“Please sit down, Lord Saybrook. You are clearly in great discomfort.”
“That is because you, Miss Smith, are a royal pain in the arse.”
She laughed. “I’ve been called far worse.”
“I don’t doubt it.” The earl sat. “In another moment, it will be me blistering your maidenly ears.”
“Why, sir, you actually possess a sense of humor.”
He grimaced. “Rarely at this hour in the morning.”
“I may have something that will help improve your disposition. . . .”
As if in answer to her thoughts, the woman from earlier reappeared. This time, she was carrying naught but a tall glass filled with a pale green liquid and a plate with several nut-brown wafers.
“Buenos días, Elena,” began the earl, only to be cut off by a rapid-fire volley of Spanish.
His brows pinched together as he looked from the woman to Arianna and then back again. “What the devil . . .,” he muttered, trying to ward off the libation being thrust at him.
“Dio Madre, drink it,” snapped Arianna. “It’s a draught for pain,” she explained. “As a child, I was cared for by a local quimboiseur in the Caribbean. Like your grandmother, she was an expert in the healing arts, though some called her a witch.”
“You expect me to swallow this . . . this black-magic potion?”
“It’s far better than that dark drug that is rotting your innards,” she countered. “But, of course, the choice is yours.”
Elena wagged a thick finger and added her own admonition.
“Women,” muttered Saybrook. But after a slight hesitation, he drained the glass and handed it back to Elena, who graced him with a beatific smile. “There. Satisfied, Miss Smith?”
Arianna cut off a tiny slice of fruit. “It’s to my benefit that you stay alive a while longer.” She looked at Elena and raised three fingers. “Thrice a day, and it’s best taken with food.” To the earl, she added, “Your appetite will quickly return, once you start weaning yourself from the opium. You will also find that the draught lessens the effects of withdrawal.”
Still smiling, Elena placed the plate of wafers on the table and withdrew from the room.
“You don’t waste any time in turning a household upside down, Miss Smith,” grumbled Saybrook.
“Look, I thought you were anxious to solve this case,” retorted Arianna. “From what I overheard last night, time seems to be of the essence.”
He fingered the small silver fob on his watch chain. “You ought not have eavesdropped on my private conversations.”
“Yes, well, see how useful a woman with no shred of decency can be to you?” she countered. “I doubt that there are any rules that I’m not willing to break in order to get what I want.” The soft splash of cof
fee punctuated her words. “And trust me, milord, there are things I can do to wheedle information out of the suspects that you, for all your military skills, can’t.” She fluttered her lashes. “If you grasp my meaning.”
He stared at her, unblinking. “An interesting argument, Miss Smith. But for all your fancy verbal footwork, you still haven’t explained just how you intend to put theory into practice.”
“I was just getting to that.” Arianna pushed back from the table with a contented sigh. “Ahhhh, that was delicious,” she said, savoring the pleasant warmth radiating through her body. She had gone hungry often enough not to take it for granted. “I think much better on a full stomach.”
“Then you ought to be a veritable genius,” said Saybrook, eyeing her empty plate.
She responded by pouring the last bit of hot chocolate and nudging the cup his way. “While you are still snappish as a starved mastiff. Finish this while I talk.”
He looked about to argue, then picked up the drink and took a small sip. “Now kindly continue, before I swoon from suspense.”
Arianna smoothed at a fold in her wrapper. “I think we both agree that the person responsible for poisoning the Prince was either me or one of the guests at Lady Spencer’s party, correct?”
The earl gave a tiny nod.
“Let’s assume I’m telling the truth, so that would mean our remaining suspects are all ladies and gentlemen who move in the highest circle of Society.” She didn’t bother to ask for his affirmation. “Which means that for me to get close to them—close enough to learn their most intimate secrets—I will need to be accepted as one of their own.”
Saybrook appeared to be more interested in the carved acanthus leaf ceiling molding than her words.
Ignoring his wandering gaze, she forged on. “How, you may ask, do I intend to do that? Well, the answer is ingeniously simple. Your uncle—the Right Honorable Mr. Mellon—”
“I’m acquainted with my relative’s name,” he murmured, which showed that he was listening after all.
“I’m aware that Mr. Mellon is a highly respected member of the ton, a paragon of virtue, a pattern card of propriety. So, if he were to introduce a distant female relative into Society, she would be welcomed without question. Embraced, as it were, with open arms.”
That seemed to get his attention.
“Especially if word went out that she was a very wealthy widow. Men are attracted to money, all the more so when it is attached to a lady who is not a skittish virgin. And I know enough about the most likely suspect to offer just the right enticements so that he will be drawn to me—or, rather, my persona—like a moth to a flame.”
When Saybrook didn’t react right away, she asked, “So, what do you say?”
“I would say,” he replied slowly, “you have a mind that rivals that of Machiavelli.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I’m not sure it was meant as one.” He blew out his breath. “Clearly you are clever. And wily.”
“Which are just the sort of qualities you need to catch a cunning criminal. Fight fire with fire.”
“Yes, but that brings us back to the matter of trust. How do I know you won’t run off and leave me in the lurch?”
“That is a chance you will have to take,” she said. “But be assured that I have my own reasons for wishing to see this through. The fact that we have common goals should put your mind at ease.” Seeing his frown, she quickly added, “And after all, it’s not like you have much to lose. At the moment, you have no real leads, no real suspects.”
“Save for you,” he reminded her.
Arianna waved it off with an impatient huff. “You’ll only waste your precious time pursuing that idea, sir.” She paused for a moment. “By the by, why is time of the essence in tracking down the culprit?”
It was his turn to evade a question. “The reason is not relevant to your interests, Miss Smith.”
Confident that she would find a way to worm the truth out of him if they joined forces, Arianna let it pass with a shrug. “Fair enough. So let’s return to my proposal, Lord Saybrook. Surely you see that the positives far outweigh the negatives.”
He fingered his chin, and she could tell he was giving it serious thought.
“Come, you have to admit that there is no reason it won’t work. Chef Alphonse simply disappears, as befits a canny murderer. I, in turn, make an entrance into Society as a relative of Mr. Mellon and his family, which is all very proper and according to protocol.”
“There are a number of rather important details, such as a fashionable wardrobe and a respectable residence. To be credible you cannot exist as a will-o’-the-wisp.”
“True, but all of these things can be easily worked out.” Arianna feigned a casual shrug. Money, bloody money. The cursed stuff—or lack of it—had controlled so much of her life. And now was no exception. Her plan depended on how much of his own the earl was willing to part with.
“You’ve plenty of blunt,” she went on. “Surely you won’t mind spending a bit to drape yourself in the glory of catching the Prince’s poisoner. I’m sure His Royal Highness will reward you handsomely.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m not looking for another medal, Miss Smith. Or money.”
“Ah, yes. Noble principle.” Perhaps it was a mistake to mock him, but she couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “Well, not everyone can afford to have such integrity, Lord Saybrook. Most of us are willing to sell ourselves quite cheaply.”
“But not you, Miss Smith,” he responded, matching her tone. “What you are suggesting will cost me a pretty penny. A fancy wardrobe . . . a lady’s maid . . . a residence and retainers.” His brow rose a notch. “While we’re at it, shall we add in a matched pair of winged unicorns to fly your spun-sugar carriage to the moon?”
“Not necessary. I told you, sir, I’m not going anywhere until we solve this case.”
“We?” He chuffed out a harsh breath. “What makes you think you can carry off this charade? It’s one thing to skulk around a darkened kitchen disguised as a rough-mannered man. But to parade as a gently bred lady under the glittering lights of a Mayfair ballroom will take more than cojones. . . .” He let his words trail off.
“I know more about your world than you might imagine.” Vague memories stirred, like the flutter of gossamer silk in a summer breeze. Candlelight and music. Champagne popping and couples dancing. The dulcet tones of her mother’s laughter rising up to her hiding place at the top of the marble staircase.
Strange, but it suddenly felt as if a flock of butterflies were beating their wings against her ribs.
Clearing her throat, she summoned from somewhere deep within herself the cultured tones of an English aristocrat. “I promise you, Lord Saybrook, I am quite capable of playing the role of a respectable female.”
She looked up to find the earl’s eyes boring into her. “Who are you?” he mused. “Not that I expect an answer.”
Arianna brushed off the odd sensation. “My past isn’t important,” she said softly. “All that should concern you is what I can do for you in the next little while.”
Saybrook rose and went to stand by the windows. Backlit by the morning sun, he appeared as a stark sliver of black, all sharp angles and impenetrable shadows.
“Not a soul is aware of my presence in London,” she added. “Indeed, most people aren’t even aware that I still exist. Which should count as yet another point in favor of my plan.”
“Yes, it’s doubtful Grentham knows anything about you,” conceded the earl. He turned abruptly. “He would have pounced by now.”
She could sense that he was wavering. As a distraction, she pointed to the plate of chocolate wafers that Elena had brought in. “You might as well begin your healing regimen right away. If you are to be of any use, you need to build up your strength.”
He ran a finger over the glossy dark discs. “I thought you didn’t share your secrets.”
“Seeing as you shared your g
randmother’s journals—”
“Unwillingly, I might add.”
“Be that as it may, I thought it only fair to reciprocate.”
“Yet you’ve taken great pains to tell me you have no principles,” pointed out Saybrook. “Isn’t that a contradiction?”
“No doubt. I also told you I don’t feel compelled to abide by any rules. You will have to get used to my mercurial habits.”
Arianna could almost see his mind working. Lies and flatteries, deceptions and betrayals. The earl was wondering whether he was being set up. Ensnared in a silken web.
He rubbed at his injured leg. “We’ve spent a lot of time discussing the Prince’s poisoner, but have you forgotten about Major Crandall? Why he wanted you dead is just as great a mystery.”
“Yes, it is.” Arianna gave a small smile of triumph. “You solve that one while I apply myself to the other. Assuming, of course, that you accept the terms of my offer.”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
“Does that intimidate you, Lord Saybrook?”
The challenge seemed to spark a new light in the depth of his eyes. There was, she reminded herself, a luminous intelligence there, though the opium had made it difficult to discern.
Cat and mouse. They would both be playing a dangerous game, each determined to be the predator and not the prey.
His mouth curled up at the corners. “Oh, be assured that I am tougher than I look.”
She felt her mouth go a little dry. “As am I, sir.”
Saybrook acknowledged the assertion with a small nod.
“So, do we have a deal?” asked Arianna.
“I will likely regret it, but yes, we have a deal, Miss Smith.” Picking up a piece of the chocolate, he broke off a sliver and popped it into his mouth. “Now get dressed. We must move quickly if we have any hope of making this work.”
9
From the chocolate notebooks of Dona Maria Castellano
Ha! I have made another scientific discovery! In 1570, chocolate was being used as a medicine in Spain. Francisco Hernandez, the royal physician to King Philip II, believed that it was beneficial, and prescribed it to reduce fevers and relieve discomfort in hot weather. I have my doubts about the effectiveness of such treatments, but I applaud his intelligence in realizing the healthful benefits of chocolate. . . .
Sweet Revenge lahm-1 Page 9
