Sweet Revenge Part 33

"I have a question," said Arianna, after considering the information for a moment. Her head was beginning to swim. "The original South Sea Company's targeted trading area was the Spanish colonies of the Americas, correct?"

"That's right," replied the earl. "Including Mexico and the large expanse of territory in what now is the United States."

"So we are talking about an area that is fabulously rich in natural resources." She frowned, unsure what it was that she was missing. "And yet the Bubble burst because the company and its stock was essentially worthless. They failed to make a penny of profit."

"The South Sea Company didn't collapse because the riches weren't there. It collapsed because it had no access." Saybrook's expression turned grim. "Regardless of the monopoly granted by the English government, the Navio de Permiso-the trading rights granted by the King of Spain-consisted of one s.h.i.+p per year. It was later increased to three, but that wasn't exactly going to generate an armada of profit."

"Lady Arianna raises an excellent point," mused Henning aloud. "Why go to all the expense and risk of creating another South Sea Company-a.s.suming she is right in her mathematical speculation-when Spain is our enemy? Napoleon's brother Joseph sits on the throne, so it seems rather absurd to think he would grant an English company access to the riches of Spain's New World colonies."

"Access," she repeated softly.

"Let us keep speculating for a moment . . ." Saybrook straightened slightly in his chair. "Imagine that Napoleon is successful this time in his march east, and forces the Russian tsar to make peace. Our Eastern allies will be forced to do the same. And so will England, for we cannot fight him alone."

Henning grunted. "Peace at last, which as far as I am concerned would be a b.l.o.o.d.y good thing."

"You are not alone in thinking that," said Saybrook. "Napoleon would also welcome an end to the unrelenting wars." He paused, as if suddenly distracted by some other thought. A spider crept across the wood and he watched it disappear into one of the cracks before continuing. "So I imagine that he would be enormously grateful to anyone who could help ensure that the forces opposing him did not forge a more united alliance."

Arianna blinked. "The poisoned chocolate-"

"Could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak," finished the earl. "Not only would it offer a better chance to obtain a royal charter, but it would also earn a reward from a grateful Napoleon, for the Prince Regent's death would throw our country-and our Eastern allies-into chaos."

"You think the conspirators behind this trading company have made a deal with the French?" asked Henning. "In return for weakening our government, and forcing a peace treaty, they have been promised a rich reward? But that would be . . . treason."

"It would also be a stroke of brilliance, and we know they are very, very clever. Think on it-if England makes peace, the Emperor would firmly control Spain and the rights to grant trading access to its New World colonies."

"Good G.o.d," whispered Arianna. "The conspirators do away Prinny to put his brother on the throne. They bribe York for a royal charter, which makes their company legitimate, and then they turn to France . . ." She paused. "It all begins to weave together."

"Out of speculative threads," reminded Henning. "It's a cloth fas.h.i.+oned out of pure conjecture."

"Indeed," agreed Saybrook. "But don't forget we have a very real new clue, which may help us st.i.tch together the truth."

"What clue?" demanded Arianna.

"In addition to discovering the a.s.sortment of goods from the New World in the warehouse, we also found a waistcoat b.u.t.ton wedged between the bales," answered Saybrook.

"A b.u.t.ton?" She made a face. "How the devil is that going to help? There must be . . ." Running through a few quick mental calculations caused her frown to pinch tighter. "Suffice it to say, there must be millions of b.u.t.tons in London."

"Not of this particular b.u.t.ton. It has a distinctive design etched on it."

"I see." She studied his face for a moment before adding, "I take it by your supremely smug expression that you recognized the marking."

His mouth twitched at the corners. "Correct."

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, Sandro, why didn't you say so earlier?" growled Henning.

"I wanted to be absolutely certain, Baz," replied Saybrook. "As it turns out, the b.u.t.ton belongs to the Marquess of c.o.c.kburn. He has them made up specially at a shop off Bond Street."

"It could have come from a servant's cast-off livery," pointed out Arianna, "or some such garment. No doubt the marquess has a large household, so there are any number of ways it could have ended up where you found it."

"I think not. This one is solid gold and the particular design is only for the earl's personal use," he said. "Indeed, I happened to overhear him showing it off to his friends at my club last week."

"You are sure?" pressed Henning. "We can't afford going off on a wild-goose chase."

"This bird is quite unmistakable." The earl took the b.u.t.ton out of his pocket and held it up for them to see.

Arianna winced as the flash of gold suddenly sparked a jumbled memory. A silk waistcoat, bright with fancy b.u.t.tons. A watch chain hung with ornate fobs. Her father's laughter. . . . But then, it was gone-so quickly that it must have been only a figment of her imagination.

"Is something wrong, Lady Arianna?" asked Saybrook.

"I was blinded by the reflection for just a moment," she murmured, rubbing at her eyes. "Please continue."

"As I was saying, the design is distinctive. It's a strutting c.o.c.k, for the marquess fancies himself quite a ladies' man."

Henning cleared his throat and spit on the floor.

"What makes it even more interesting is that c.o.c.kburn is a high-ranking official in Whitehall-involved in the ministry of trade," went on Saybrook. "But that's not all." A pause. "His cousin was Major Crandall."

Henning emitted a low whistle.

"Grentham's top military attache," said Arianna, feeling a chill skate down her spine.

"But it was Grentham who asked you to take charge of the investigation," pointed out Henning.

"Yes, me. A man by all accounts befuddled by opium," responded Saybrook. "Then he and Crandall all but painted a bull's-eye on the French chef's back."

"Clever," conceded the surgeon.

"Very," said Arianna. "I can see where having a so-called independent investigator go through the motions of tracking down the guilty party deflects any suspicion from the real villains."

"Yes, perhaps. And yet . . ." Saybrook's gaze held hers. "There is something that is bothering me about all of this." A pause. "Several things, in fact."

Something in his tone made her body tense.

"Concord is a clever man," he went on. "However, to me it feels like far too ambitious a plan for him to have put together."

"Well, in this case your feeling is wrong," she retorted. "Of course it's Concord." Of course it's Concord, she repeated to herself. "Remember, it was Concord who I overheard talking about sword blades and blunt."

"Was it?" asked Saybrook softly. "You were in the garden, and the voices were m.u.f.fled. Maybe it was Kellton."

Loath to admit he might be right, Arianna remained stubbornly silent.

"Grentham and c.o.c.kburn have far more influence in the government," he mused. "Why would they be taking orders from Concord?"

"It's always smart for the head of a havey-cavey operation to appear less important than his minions," insisted Arianna. "Concord is more than clever-he is cunning. Which explains why he keeps his connections well hidden."

"She makes a good point, laddie," said Henning.

"Yes, well, I have some background in planning these sorts of things," she murmured.

The earl cleared his throat with a cough. Or was it a laugh?

Henning flashed a fleeting grin, but his expression quickly turned pensive. "If we are tossing out questions, I have a few of my own. How do Kellton and Lady Spencer fit in?"

"Kellton I can see, because of his trading experience with the East India Company," answered Saybrook. "Lady Spencer's involvement is a bit harder to figure out. She did, of course, provide the original South Sea doc.u.ments, as well as easy access to the Prince. But we may be missing something else." He paused. "Or we may be entirely wrong in our a.s.sumptions."

"Auch, it's hard to know what to believe," groused Henning.

Saybrook didn't answer.

"It's not a matter of what any of us believe, Mr. Henning," interjected Arianna. "It's a matter of what we can prove." Her chair sc.r.a.ped back. "I've a party to attend tonight, where I intend to seduce a few more facts from Concord."

"Be on guard," said Saybrook rather sharply. "Never forget that he is likely a cold-blooded murderer."

"I, of all people, am acutely aware of that," she said.

"Good." His voice, however, was flat and devoid of feeling. "In the meantime, I shall call on Lady Spencer this afternoon and see what more I can learn."

"Bring her a box of chocolate," quipped Arianna. "b.u.t.ter and sugar tend to melt her inhibitions."

"I had planned to," answered the earl brusquely. "And tomorrow I will be returning to Horse Guards, where Grentham has consented to allow me access to the confidential government dossiers on the South Sea Bubble."

"How did you manage that?" she asked.

"The minister and I are playing a little game of standing eyeball to eyeball, and seeing who will blink first."

"It's more like sticking your head into a lion's open jaws," muttered Henning. "And hoping that he doesn't snap them shut."

The earl ignored the comment. "I'll need to think more about c.o.c.kburn, too, but for now, Baz, see what more you can learn about the owners of the merchant s.h.i.+p."

"I'm meeting with Jem at the Crooked Cat as soon as we're finished here."

Arianna rose and stuffed the papers back into the folder. "Then what are we waiting for?"

Grentham picked up his penknife, and then set it down again.

"One . . . two . . ."

Before he reached "three," a knock announced the return of his secretary, who hurriedly flipped open a folder as he entered the office.

"The report just arrived, sir. An urchin was seen entering Henning's surgery. He wore the same hat and jacket as the boy who appeared at Lord Saybrook's town house, so our spy is of the opinion that it's the same person."

"I trust that he was smart enough to follow the imp?" growled Grentham.

The secretary shuffled his feet. "Yes, sir. But apparently the boy was a slippery little devil. Our man lost him. . . ."

Grentham's eyes narrowed.

"In the vicinity of Lady Wolcott's residence. He swears that the boy must have taken refuge in one of the gardens."

The minister fingered the gold fobs hanging from his watch chain. "Bring me the file you've put together on the Widow Wolcott, along with the one on Lord Ashmun."

"Yes, milord."

"And have a new man a.s.signed to the surveillance. One who is quick-witted and quick-footed enough to keep his quarry in sight." The fobs slid across the silk of his waistcoat. "a.s.sign the current fellow to shoveling dung in the Horse Guards stables."

"Yes, milord."

"And Jenkins, do tell our operative that I expect him to stick to Lady Wolcott like a leech, understand? And tell him that his blood will be feeding the lice and bedbugs at Newgate if he fails."

Jenkins scuttled out the door, as if his own flesh were at risk.

"Wealthy widow, street urchin-what other roles are you playing, Lady Whoever-You-Are?" he said softly.

A sudden patter of rain hit against the windowpanes, momentarily blurring the troop of cavalry trotting across the parade ground.

"Not that it matters. For all your fancy footwork, you look to be heading exactly where I want you."

22.

From the chocolate notebooks of Dona Maria Castellano The British colonies in America came up with some interesting innovations. In 1765, Dr. James Baker and John Hannon of Ma.s.sachusetts started one of the first chocolate enterprises to employ a machine. They used an old grist mill to grind the beans into chocolate liquor, and then pressed the paste into cakes to be dried for cocoa powder. Alas, poor Hannon was lost at sea while on a trip to the West Indies to buy beans, but Dr. Baker continued to produce high-quality chocolate. . . .

Mocha Mousse with Sichuan Peppercorns teaspoon Sichuan peppercorns

cup heavy cream

1 teaspoons ground coffee beans

4 ounces 70%-cacao bittersweet chocolate, chopped