Recipe for Treason Part 18

"Miss Kirtland . . . Sophia."

Sophia finally turned her head, but a gla.s.sy look still glazed her eyes.

Shaking off her own shock, Arianna took Sophia's arm and drew her back through the archway and past the card room.

"This way," she ordered, turning down a dimly lit corridor. "Let us find the withdrawing room and splash some water on your face."

Sophia stumbled along unresisting, as if in a daze.

Spotting a half-opened door, Arianna stopped to peek inside. It appeared to be some sort of game room-there were several backgammon boards stacked atop a storage chest, and a chess set was arrayed on a black-and-white checkered table, waiting for someone to come along and make the first move.

"In here," she ordered, pulling the door shut behind them and turning the key in the lock.

"W-what . . ." The fog seemed to be clearing from her companion's head.

Arianna shoved her down into one of the leather armchairs and rushed to the sideboard, where she quickly poured a large measure of brandy.

"Drink!" she ordered.

Sophia obediently gulped down a long swallow. "Arrgh!" The color came rus.h.i.+ng back to her face as she sputtered a choked cough. "Good G.o.d, that is ghastly stuff."

"Yes, but it clears the cobwebs from your head." Picking up a poker, Arianna stirred the banked fire to life. "Feeling better?"

"Yes, much." Sophia took a tiny sip this time, and it seemed to go down more smoothly. "Thank you."

"De nada," she murmured in Spanish, then added an unladylike oath in the same language. "Whenever you are ready, would you kindly explain what the devil that was all about?"

Getting no answer to his soft knock, Saybrook eased the latch open and let himself inside the surgery. All was still inside, save for the usual creaking of the ancient beams and the scurrying of mice within the woodwork. The silence seemed to indicate that Henning was asleep. And yet, on approaching the building, he had seen the hint of a candle burning behind the window draperies, which stirred a flicker of unease. An untended flame could so easily tip over in the breeze, and with the a.s.sortment of chemicals lying around . . .

He moved quietly over the stone tiles of the entrance hall and down the short pa.s.sageway to the private parlor. Sure enough, there was a faint spill of light showing from beneath the closed door. Pressing his hand to the rough planking, he gave a small push.

"Sandro!" Henning spun around in his chair, a look oddly akin to guilt spasming across his features. "I didna hear you come in."

"I should have knocked louder," said Saybrook. "But I didn't wish to wake you if you were sleeping." He glanced at the other man half-hidden in the surgeon's shadow. "I didn't mean to interrupt your meeting. I'll come back another time."

"Nay, nay." Henning gave an airy wave. "William was just leaving."

The earl couldn't help but notice that with the other hand, the surgeon was surrept.i.tiously sliding some papers from his blotter into his desk drawer.

"Gud night te ye, Major." The man gave a ragged salute as he sidled by and melted into the darkness.

"One of the riflemen from the Third Regiment of Foot Guards," explained Henning with a smile that seemed a trifle forced. "Needed a salve for a boil on his leg. Nasty things, boils are, especially if left untreated."

The floorboards groaned as the earl s.h.i.+fted his stance. "Indeed," he answered blandly, taking a packet from his coat pocket. "I, too, have medicines to dispense. Arianna sends an a.s.sortment of chocolate wafers and almond confections. She and Bianca are concerned that you don't starve during your convalescence."

"Tell Lady S that I-and my bread box-are always happy to receive her prescriptions." The surgeon s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably in his chair. "But I would guess ye didna come here at this hour simply to deliver chocolate."

"Correct," said Saybrook. "I thought you might be interested in accompanying me on a late-night visit to a man of science." He dropped the packet on the desk. "But never mind. I can see that you have other concerns on your plate."

"Hold yer water, laddie." The surgeon rose and hastily tugged his rumpled coat into place. "As if a b.l.o.o.d.y scratch would keep me from lending ye a hand."

"I don't want to tax your strength, Baz."

Henning dropped his gaze and began rooting through the pasteboard boxes piled on his desk. "Auch, I'm tough as nails." A coil of string and a small scalpel went into his pockets, followed by a pocket pistol and an extra charge of powder and bullets. "There-best to be prepared for trouble whenever I venture out with you."

The earl didn't smile at the jest. "On second thought, it might be best if I went alone."

Their eyes met.

"I've drawn you into enough trouble," Saybrook added softly. "I need to pursue this lead, for it may bring me closer to Renard. But be a.s.sured I haven't forgotten your nephew or the fact that his death is a mystery that needs to be resolved."

A gruff exhale stirred the air between them. "Trouble is rarely simple, laddie, or rarely black-and-white. It wasn't your fault Angus made decisions that put him into danger. Ye must, in good conscience, do yer job. As must I."

"I trust that those two things are one and the same, Baz. And that we will do them together."

Henning remained silent.

"Patience, Baz," counseled Saybrook. "As for tonight, I don't expect trouble-"

"Aye, but ye never know when it will creep up and try to bite ye on the a.r.s.e," replied his friend. "So ye need someone ye can trust to be watching yer back."

Saybrook lifted a dark brow.

Ignoring the implied question, Henning added a narrow roll of linen to the other items, then blew out the candle. "Let's be off."

The scuff of their steps was quickly lost in the scrabbling sounds of the back alleyways. The earl led the way through a series of narrow streets to a small square of shabby but respectable buildings grouped around a small, unpruned garden.

"Who are we here to see?" asked Henning, gazing around at the darkened windows.

"A chemist by the name of Brynn-Smith. He works on gases used to propel the big balloons used for manned flight."

The surgeon chafed his hands together as a frigid gust swirled through the night. "Is he working with Cayley?"

"That," answered Saybrook, "is what I intend to find out."

14.

From Lady Arianna's Chocolate Notebooks Coffee Crunch Bars 2 cups all-purpose flour 1/2 teaspoon baking powder 1/4 teaspoon salt 1 cup (2 sticks) plus 2 tablespoons unsalted b.u.t.ter, at room temperature 11/4 cups firmly packed dark brown sugar 2 tablespoons instant espresso powder 1/2 teaspoon almond extract 1 cup semisweet chocolate chips 1/2 cup sliced almonds 1. Preheat the oven to 325F. Whisk the flour, baking powder, and salt in a medium bowl to blend.

2. Using an electric mixer, beat the b.u.t.ter and sugar in another medium bowl until blended, about 2 minutes. Add the espresso powder and almond extract; beat 1 minute.

3. Stir in the flour mixture in 3 additions, mixing until just absorbed after each addition. Stir in the chocolate chips and almonds (dough will be thick).

4. Turn the dough out onto an ungreased, rimmed baking sheet. Using your hands, press the dough into a 12-inch square. Pierce all over with a fork at 1-inch intervals.

5. Bake until the edges are lightly browned and beginning to crisp, 45 to 50 minutes. Cool on the baking sheet for 1 minute. Cut into 48 bars. Immediately transfer to a rack to cool. The bars will crisp as they cool.

"Devil," repeated Sophia. She swallowed hard. "That is an apt word for such a . . . creature from h.e.l.l."

Arianna remained silent, waiting for her to go on at her own pace.

"Though perhaps I am maligning Lucifer." Sophia gave a sardonic grimace. "For the Devil makes no bones about who he is, while Stoughton cloaks his evil behind an array of gaudy medals and gold braid."

"Would you like some more brandy?" Arianna asked, for in the guttering light of the candelabra, it seemed that her companion's face had once again gone as cold and white as Carrara marble.

"No." A sigh. "I-I have never talked about this with anyone."

"If you would rather not . . ."

"You did say it was important to know each other's vulnerabilities." Sophia's mouth quirked. "On second thought, perhaps I do need another small splash of brandy to loosen my tongue."

Arianna wordlessly refilled her gla.s.s.

Lifting it to the red-gold flames, Sophia slowly spun it between her fingers, watching the slivered shades of amber dance across the darkened wall. "Oh, it is hard to know where to begin. I was a fool, I suppose."

"Aren't we all at times?" said Arianna. "If it makes you feel any better, I have done more than a few things that would make your c.o.c.kles curl."

Sophia flashed a wry smile. "Do females have c.o.c.kles?"

"I haven't a clue." Arianna grinned back at her. "Look, why not just spit it out? Whatever it is, I promise you that I won't fall into a fit of megrims."

"Very well." Another sigh, another swallow of spirits.

Arianna was beginning to wonder whether she might have to find a footman to help carry her companion out to the carriage.

"To make a long story short, when I was seventeen I fell in love," began Sophia, "with a young man my father deemed beneath our family's notice. He wanted me to marry money, a t.i.tle-all the trappings that would give him the power and prestige he thought he deserved. You see, he had squandered his own inheritance, and my grandfather refused to go on paying for his profligate spending. Younger sons were expected to make their own way in the world, but my father thought that grossly unfair."

"This is, you know, an oft-told tale," murmured Arianna.

"Yes, I know. And my story follows the usual plot of a horrid novel-I surrendered my virtue to my true love, and we made plans to elope to Scotland. Indeed, we were nearly at the border when my father caught up with us." Her voice tightened. "He had bribed the local militia commander to accompany him-and to keep the affair silent."

"Stoughton?" asked Arianna, though she was certain of the answer.

"Stoughton," confirmed Sophia. "Who proceeded to knock Edward from the perch of our rented gig and slowly, methodically, gleefully thrash him to a b.l.o.o.d.y pulp." Her eyes squeezed shut. "It was horrible. Neddy was barely more than a boy. He was slight and slender-a gentle-natured poet who planned on going into the Church. While Stoughton was a big-muscled brute who clearly took pleasure in inflicting pain." The dregs in the gla.s.s swirled slowly, silently. "My father dragged me back home, cursing all the way about damaged goods. I learned that Neddy died within hours of the beating."

"I'm so sorry."

"To add insult to injury, Stoughton had the nerve to suggest to my father that he take me off my father's hands." Sophia shuddered. "Though G.o.d knows why. I had only a modest dowry, and the fact that my grandmother was leaving me a generous bequest was not yet known."

Arianna found it interesting that Sophia seemed unaware of her striking looks and their effect on men. But she didn't know her well enough to broach such a personal subject. Instead, she merely pointed out a more mundane fact of life. "A duke's influence could be important for an ambitious military officer."

"His motive didn't matter. Needless to say, I refused-and informed my father that I had no intention of marrying anyone. Ever."

Ah, youthful pride.

Sophia lifted her gaze. "So now you know my sordid little secret."

"There is nothing sordid about being young and desperately in love," replied Arianna gently. "Now is not the time, but at some point I shall share some stories that will a.s.sure you I know what 'sordid' truly means."

"Oh." Setting the gla.s.s down on the chess table, Sophia plucked at the folds of her skirts, as if smoothing the silk could put her emotions back into order. "I hope that I have not stirred unhappy memories for you."

Arianna shook her head. "I am slowly learning to live with my mistakes-not to say that it is easy. It isn't. But it helps to keep moving forward, rather than to allow your feet to remain mired in the past."

"Wise words," said Sophia thoughtfully. After a moment of meditation, she pressed her palms together. "How is it that you know Stoughton?"

"Because he is the murderous b.a.s.t.a.r.d responsible for the death of Basil Henning's nephew. Sandro had several confrontations with him." Arianna clarified the details of the Scottish trip.

"Why is he here in London?" mused Sophia.

"A good question. I mean to find out, for along with trapping Renard, I intend to learn the truth of why Basil's nephew was shot. It seems too great a coincidence to be merely a random act of fate." She looked over at the black-and-white chess figures ready to square off in combat on the checkered field of battle. p.a.w.ns and knights, rooks and queens . . .

Ah, the most powerful figure is a female.

"I've an idea." Arianna rose and began to pace back and forth in front of the hearth. "First, let me help you down to the carriage so Jose can drive you home-"

"b.o.l.l.o.c.ks," exclaimed Sophia, her chin taking on a mulish jut. "I'm not going anywhere. I may not be as experienced as you are in intrigue, but I can learn."

"Miss Kirtland, you've suffered a severe shock." A shade of amus.e.m.e.nt crept into Arianna's tone. "Not to mention the fact that you're a trifle foxed."

"I'm not foxed. I'm just pleasantly tipsy." A pause. "Just because you know all manner of clever tricks to deal with men doesn't mean I should be trundled off to bed like a helpless child."

The momentary truce seemed over as Sophia's p.r.i.c.kliness rea.s.serted itself.

Like me, she does not like letting anyone get too close.

Heaving an inward sigh, Arianna said, "I wasn't implying any such thing. The choice is, of course, yours."

Her companion's scowl softened.

"If you stay, it will mean facing up to your Devil. Are you sure you are ready for that?"

"Yes," answered Sophia stoutly. "It's time for me to finally take a stand and fight back."

"You need not throw any punches this evening," replied Arianna. "We are simply going to reconnoiter, so to speak. All I need for you to do is introduce me to Stoughton. He caught only a glimpse of me dressed as a male, so I doubt he'll recognize me in my present persona." She took another turn in front of the fire. "I should be able to learn what has brought him to London."

"But once he sees Saybrook, he can't help but realize that it was the two of you who were overseeing Lord Grentham's investigation in St. Andrews."

"You're right. However, for the moment we hold the advantage of surprise, so I mean to use it. If we have to change tactics later on, so be it. Sandro has stressed to me that a good field general always remains flexible."