Recipe for Treason: A Lady Arianna Regency Mystery (Lady Arianna Hadley Mystery) (26 page)

She nodded, unsure of how to answer.

“I spoke in anger,” repeated Saybrook, “because I was so damnably,
damnabl
y afraid.”

“I know. I put Miss Kirtland at risk—”

His lips touched her forehead, causing her to cut off.

“We’ll speak of Miss Kirtland later,” Saybrook said softly. “I’m talking about you—and me.”

Arianna shifted slightly, intimately aware of how familiar the muscled contours of his body had become to her. “I am sorry, Sandro. I don’t mean to upset you. Truly I don’t. But I cannot change who I am.” A sigh. “Not even for you.” She reached up and placed her palm against his whisker-stubbled jaw. “Do you think that I am not afraid for your safety too?”

That drew a reluctant rumble of a laugh from deep in his throat. “
Madre de
Dios
, what a pair we make. Most couples argue about money or mistresses, while we butt heads over risking our lives for King and country.”

“Eccentric, I agree. But so far we have made it work.” A pause. “Neither of us would be happy trying to live conventional lives, so it seems likely that we will continue to drive each other to distraction at times. However, I hope that mutual respect and . . .” She hitched in a breath, for baring her heart was still something she found difficult. “ . . . and love will help us learn to live with each other’s foibles.”

“Love.” Saybrook tightened his hold on her, his whisper stirring the air. “That is a word which is rarely uttered aloud between us. Perhaps it should be said more often.”

“We are both very guarded about expressing our emotions. That does not mean the feelings don’t exist. But it is hard to change.”

“It takes practice to hone any skill.”

She smiled into the shadows.

“I am not asking you to change, my love,” he went on. “Just promise me that you will try not to take such hellish risks in the future.”

“I will try,” agreed Arianna. “But you will have to accept that
try
is the full extent of my promise.”

Another low laugh. “I will try.” The door latch clicked open. “There is far more to say on the subject, but not now. Let us finally be off to bed and blessed sleep, which I think we’ve both earned.”

24

From Lady
Arianna’s Chocolate Notebooks

Smoked Tea–Infused Chocolate Pots de Crème

6
¹
/
₂
ounces bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped

3 cups heavy whipping cream

²
/
₃
cup whole milk

1 teaspoon Lapsang souchong or other smoked tea

¹
/
₂
cup plus 2 teaspoons sugar

6 large egg yolks

¹
/
₄
vanilla bean, split lengthwise

1. Place the bittersweet chocolate in a large bowl.

2. Bring 2
¹
/
₂
cups of the cream, the whole milk, and the smoked tea to a simmer in a heavy medium saucepan over medium heat. Turn off the heat. Add
¹
/
₄
cup of the sugar and stir to dissolve. Steep uncovered for 5 minutes.

3. Whisk the egg yolks and
¹
/
₄
cup of the sugar in a medium bowl to blend. Gradually whisk the hot cream mixture into the yolk mixture; then strain it over the chocolate. Let stand 2 minutes. Whisk until the chocolate is melted and the custard is smooth. Cover and chill the custard overnight.

4. Position a rack in the center of the oven and preheat to 300°F. Divide the custard among eight
³
/
₄
-cup ramekins or custard cups. Cover each ramekin with plastic wrap and arrange the ramekins in a large roasting pan. Carefully add enough warm water to the roasting pan to come halfway up the sides of the ramekins.

5. Bake the custards in the water bath until just set in the center, about 55 minutes. Remove the ramekins from the water. Uncover and refrigerate until cold, at least 6 hours.

6. Before serving, combine the remaining
¹
/
₂
cup cream and
¹
/
₄
cup sugar in a medium bowl. Scrape in the seeds from the vanilla bean and whisk until peaks form. Dollop the cream atop the custards and serve.

T
heir well-earned sleep was, however, all too soon interrupted, and at an ungodly hour in the morning. A messenger from the minister brought a missive to summon them to a meeting at Horse Guards, and Saybrook reluctantly decided it was best to obey.

“Have a seat,” said Grentham brusquely as they entered his office. “Seeing as Mr. Henning has been part of this endeavor from the beginning, I asked him to be present as well.”

Looking even more disheveled than was his wont in the morning, the surgeon sat slumped in his chair, noisily slurping a cup of coffee.

“What about Miss Kirtland?” asked Arianna. “It would seem she has earned a right to be here too.”

The minister steepled his hands in front of his face, the slivered shadow making his expression impossible to read. “Miss Kirtland needs a rather lengthy session to ensure that she understands the stricture of silence by which she is bound. However, given the more intimate understanding between ourselves”—he flashed a rather sour smile—“I thought it best to confine this gathering to just the four of us. There are things to discuss that do not concern her.”

Saybrook stretched out his legs and emitted an impatient sigh. “Then kindly get on with it. None of us got much sleep, so I hope you have roused us for an interesting reason, rather than simply to bore us with blather about the rules of state security.”

“I shall try to keep you amused, Lord Saybrook,” replied Grentham. He tapped at a dossier on his desk. “I thought you might like to hear how Renard
soeur et frère
managed to work so cunningly within Whitehall.”

“I have been wondering about that,” murmured Arianna. “Knowing there were two of them certainly opened up a whole new range of possibilities.”

“I am assuming that Lady Urania was secretly sleeping with one of the high-ranking gentlemen on the security committee,” said Saybrook. “Someone with access to the most privileged information.”

Grentham looked a little miffed that his thunder had been stolen. “Correct. What made it all the more clever was that Finchley was not guilty of treason, but merely of being indiscreet in bed. He had no idea he was pumped . . . in more ways than one.”

Arianna lifted a brow at the minister’s risqué remark. “Women are usually far more sophisticated about using their wiles than men give them credit for.”

The minister narrowed his eyes. “So I am learning.”

“Bloody hell, it took you long enough to figure it out,” grumbled Saybrook.

“There were layers upon layers to unpeel. I had to work my way through the suspects and examine all aspects of their lives, without them knowing. When confronted, Finchley admitted to his affair with Lady Urania and was aghast that he had played the dupe.”

“What about Canaday?” asked the earl.

“That was what made Renard’s trail so difficult to discern. As we once discussed earlier, it seemed as if the source of information was coming from two different sources. And it was. Canaday was blackmailing a senior official in the Foreign Office whose sexual preferences would have gotten him hanged here in England, if they had become public knowledge.”

Saybrook murmured a name, earning a gruff nod from Grentham.

“You knew?” asked the minister with a hard stare.

“No, it’s far easier to read between the lines when one has been handed the proper spectacles.”

Henning grunted and patted back a yawn. “And when we add to the mix that both brother and sister were accomplished chemists, with inside knowledge of the institution and its members, it’s easy to understand how they concocted yet another way to create havoc for England.”

“Indeed,” said Grentham. “With a few well-chosen friends, like Lord Reginald Sommers, they constructed a diabolical web of treachery for France. ‘Why’ is still a question that needs to be answered.”

“I think I can help you there,” said Arianna. She proceeded to repeat what the twins had told her about their family background.

“Auch, my head is starting to ache,” grumbled Henning. “Is there anything else pressing to go over before we are allowed to return to our slumbers? Seeing as the threat is finally over, can’t these prosy details be held until a later time?”

“There is something else to clarify.” Grentham turned to him. “I assume you think I lied to you about releasing your nephew.”

The surgeon answered with a wordless grunt.

“First of all, the young man put himself in danger by choosing to join a group of radical revolutionaries.”

“None of us are in the mood for such platitudes, Grentham,” snapped Saybrook. “And by the by, our government ought not force its citizens to form revolutionary groups in order to give voice to their legitimate grievances. History shows us what happens.”

“Don’t lecture me either,” retorted the minister. “You have a seat in the House of Lords. Feel free to offer your opinion on politics there.”

Arianna interrupted to forestall any further hostilities. “Do go on, sir, if you have something more to add. As Mr. Henning said, we are all tired.”

Grentham cleared his throat with a brusque cough. “The sealed packet you carried north contained my orders for the young man’s release. When my investigations here in London heightened my suspicions concerning Stoughton, I moved to have one of my local operatives inserted into the unit of prison guards. The plan was for him to spirit Mr. Henning’s nephew to safety, but Stoughton acted too quickly.”

An apology, however oblique, from the minister?
Arianna arched a brow in surprise.

Saybrook’s reaction was less subtle. He made a rude sound and said, “You want us to believe that you have a heart? Ha! And pigs may fly.”

A dark flush rose to Grentham’s cheekbones, but his only retaliation was a mocking smile. “Stranger things have been spotted floating through the skies around London, Lord Saybrook. Including your wife.”

Repressing a chuckle, Arianna rose. “On that note, perhaps it’s time to bring this meeting to an end—before the two of you give rise to any more insults.”

“Just one last thing,” said Grentham. He took a small packet of papers from his desk drawer and tossed it at the earl. “I suggest you read the contents when you get home.”

“Merde,”
swore Saybrook. “Now what?”

“Practicing your French? I’ll take that as a promising sign,” shot back the minister.

On second thought, Arianna wasn’t sure that she was liking Grentham’s newfound sense of humor.

“No.” The papers dropped onto the polished pearwood with a crackly
thunk
.
“Whatever it is . . .” Saybrook took her arm rather forcefully and turned for the door. “The answer is no.”

Huffing a snort, Henning got to his feet and followed.

“Enough of murder and mayhem and recipes for treason. From now on, my wife and I intend to devote our time to the peaceful study of chocolate,” added Saybrook.

Grentham tapped his fingertips together as the portal slammed shut. “So you say now,” he murmured, eyeing the discarded packet. “But I have a feeling that along with your exotic spices and chocolate confections, you may soon be eating your words.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I
’m often a
sked how I come up with my stories, and the simple answer is that the history of the Regency era is so fascinating that it inspires countless ideas. It was a time of great upheaval in all aspects of life—many consider it the birth of the modern world—and scientific explorations and discoveries served as powerful catalysts for change.

Though my scientific skills are rudimentary at best, I became fascinated by how much influence science had on society as a whole. The experiments of the early chemists and balloonists were followed with avid interest throughout Europe, and charismatic leaders in the field like Humphry Davy, Vincent Lunardi, and James Sadler were the Regency equivalent of modern rock stars.

It was fun to weave these real-life personages into my story, and many of the exploits described in these pages are based on true stories. (For those of you interested in reading more about science in this era, I highly recommend
The Age of Wonder
by Richard Holmes, a beautifully written, highly entertaining overview of the subject.) Likewise, Sir George Cayley is a real person, and his 1799 sketches of flying machines earned him the moniker of “the father of modern aeronautics.” He is credited with being the first to understand the forces of flight—weight, lift, drag, and thrust—and he designed the first glider to carry a man aloft.

That said, the events and the chemical concoctions that are key to the plot are pure fiction. Also, the Royal Society and Royal Institution are real (and respected) scientific organizations, but I have populated them with some unsavory characters to move the story along.

For me, writing fiction is even more fun when it has more than a grain of truth to it. It’s endlessly interesting to imagine, “What if . . .” So I hope you have enjoyed a little of the real history behind
Recipe for Treason
. For more fun facts and arcane trivia about the era, please visit my Web site at www.andrea penrose.com. I love to hear from readers and can be contacted at [email protected].