Recipe for Treason Part 25

"I traveled wherever the whim took me," she murmured. "Light as a feather, free as a sea breeze."

Coals crackled in the stove.

"I've more substance, more depth, which I suppose is for the good." Her mouth pinched in a rueful grimace. "But things back then were easier. Simpler."

Love-love was oh so complicated, a coil of conflicting feelings twisting in her gut. A part of her resented the loss of emotional freedom . . .

"Ah, but would you rather be adrift on an ocean of loneliness, with no anchor to humanity?" Arianna asked herself. Freedom was not simple either.

Loss and compromise were part of both worlds. Ebb and flow. Like the sea, life had an elemental rhythm to it. And like the sea, there were s.h.i.+fting tides, dangerous rip currents, hidden shoals, ready to wreck the unwary sailor.

"Are you all right?"

Arianna looked up. She hadn't heard Saybrook return.

"Just thinking."

He bent down to pick up the knife that had slipped from her fingers. "About what?"

"Did you study Greek mythology?" she asked evasively.

"Of course. Every schoolboy does."

"Tell me one of them."

Saybrook raised his brows. "Murder, betrayal, rape-they aren't exactly the most soothing of bedtime stories."

"Nonetheless, I wish to become familiar with them," insisted Arianna, feeling sharply aware of the void in her formal learning. Most of his friends-including Miss Kirtland-possessed a cla.s.sical education.

"Very well, let me think of where to begin . . . Ah, let us start with the one about light. An apt subject for our present predicament." He offered his arm. "But if you don't mind, let us retire to more comfortable quarters."

19.

From Lady Arianna's Chocolate Notebooks Chocolate-Dipped Shortbread Cookies 1/2 cup b.u.t.ter, softened 1/4 cup brown sugar 11/8 cups all-purpose flour 4 ounces semisweet chocolate, finely chopped 1/4 cup heavy cream 1. Preheat the oven to 300F. Beat the b.u.t.ter with an electric mixer until creamy. Gradually add the brown sugar, beating until light and fluffy. Slowly add the flour, beating until blended. Chill for at least 1 hour.

2. Roll the chilled dough to 1/4-inch thickness between sheets of parchment paper. Remove the top sheet of parchment paper. Cut the dough into desired shapes using a cookie cutter. Remove excess dough.

3. Place the cookies with the parchment paper on a baking sheet. Bake for 18 to 20 minutes, or until lightly browned. Remove immediately to a wire rack to cool.

4. In a small bowl set over a saucepan of hot water, melt the semisweet chocolate with the cream. Stir until smooth and keep warm.

5. When the cookies have cooled, dip one half of a cookie in the chocolate and return it to the cooling rack so the chocolate can set. Repeat with the remaining cookies.

"Lift your hands." Sophia's breath formed pale puffs of vapor against the early-morning gloom. "You are allowing your horse to control you rather than the other way around."

"Sorry." Arianna straightened in the saddle and tried to keep her attention from wandering.

"You look tired. If you would prefer to curtail our ride, I know a shortcut back to your groom."

"No, no, I could do with a bit of fresh air to clear my head." She squeezed at the reins, still finding the sensation felt very awkward. "Besides, there have been a number of new developments that you ought to hear."

Sophia listened in silence, waiting until the summary was done before letting out a low a whistle. "Henry Lawrance an agent for the Foreign Office? I suppose I must give him credit for being more than a foppish fribble."

"So it would seem," murmured Arianna, wondering whether there was a reason other than the biting chill that her companion's cheeks were now a vivid shade of crimson.

"Exotic chocolates and daredevil aviators, a secret explosive and a missing inventor." Sophia shook her head. "How does it all fit together?"

"I don't know yet," admitted Arianna. "One tiny piece of the puzzle eludes me right now. What's frustrating is that I've a feeling that I've got it in my grasp"-she gestured to punctuate her point-"I just haven't recognized it."

Her horse s.h.i.+ed at the sudden jerk on the reins.

Arianna lurched forward. Losing her grip on the leather, she ducked low and grabbed a handful of her mount's glossy mane.

"d.a.m.nation," she muttered, determined not to suffer an embarra.s.sing fall. "I-"

The rest of her words were lost in a pelter of pounding hooves as a dark shape exploded from behind a thicket of holly bushes.

A frightened whinny, a skittish veer. The ground began to spin and suddenly everything was happening so fast that all Arianna could see were bits and s.n.a.t.c.hes of the whirling action. A flash of steel, a foam-flecked stallion charging straight at her.

Abandoning the fight to keep her seat, she threw herself sideways, hoping against hope to roll free of the slas.h.i.+ng strides of the big bay. Her heart was galloping faster than the oncoming beast. The chances were slim-she would likely be squashed like a bug.

Sophia reacted in a flash. Urging her mount forward, she cut off the attacker's angle and forced the stallion to alter its path. Mere inches perhaps, but just enough that it raced harmlessly by.

Tucking into a tight roll, Arianna bounced over the hard, cold ground, dead leaves crunching loud as cannon fire in her ears. She looked up to see the stallion trying to wheel around, but Sophia had set her spirited gray flank to flank with the bay, and the two animals were jostling and kicking up great clots of earth.

Expelling a vicious oath, the rider threw up an arm to s.h.i.+eld his masked face from the flurry of blows from Sophia's crop.

"Watch out! He has a knife!" called Arianna.

Deaf to the warning, Sophia redoubled her attack, elbows flying like a whirling dervish as she added a barrage of slaps and punches with her other hand.

Scrambling to her feet, Arianna s.n.a.t.c.hed up a rock and hurled it at the prancing bay. It hit square against the stallion's withers, and with a frightened snort, the big beast danced back.

Between the bucking horseflesh and the thras.h.i.+ng rain of whip leather, their a.s.sailant lost his weapon. A last, strangled snarl, and he turned his mount and spurred away into the thinning mist.

"Good G.o.d, are you hurt?" cried Arianna between gasps for breath. Catching hold of the gray's bridle, she ran a calming hand along its sweating neck.

Sophia blinked, and it took a moment for the blank look to clear from her face. "I-I don't think so," she said. "J-just a bruise or two." The air leached from her lungs. "What about you?"

"The same," answered Arianna. "Thanks to your intervention. Is Boadicea, the warrior queen of Britain, among your family forebears?"

"Not that I know of." Her shrug ended in a wince. "Nor can I explain what came over me. It was like a haze-"

A question cut through the fog. "Does this horse perchance belong to you?"

Arianna turned slowly at the sound of the all-too-familiar voice. She had lost her shako, and smears of mud streaked the disheveled folds of her riding habit. "Yes, it does, Lord Grentham," she said tersely.

The minister looked down his long nose, and then at Sophia, whose hair was hanging down in lopsided tangles from beneath the battered brim of her once-stylish high-crown hat. "Your mastery of eccentric skills does not appear to extend to equestrian pursuits, Lady Saybrook."

Sophia huffed an indignant snort.

"You don't appear to be much more comfortable in the saddle, Miss Kirtland."

"Do forgive our unladylike appearance, sir," said Sophia acidly. "Alas, fending off an attack by a knife-wielding military man requires such an untidy amount of exertion."

His features immediately sharpened. "You were attacked?"

"By a man mounted on a big bay stallion," replied Arianna. "Did you not see anyone riding off?"

Thinning his lips, Grentham flicked a hard stare off into the distance.

Ignoring the minister for a moment, she turned back to Sophia. "What makes you say he was a military man? A cloak and a mask covered most of his person."

"I got a good look at his eyes when my crop cut a rip in the silk. It was Stoughton."

"You are sure?" demanded Grentham.

"Absolutely," answered Sophia without hesitation. "I would recognize his G.o.d-benighted orbs anywhere. Not to speak of the small scar that I put above his left brow the last time he attacked a companion of mine."

The minister frowned.

"If you doubt me, track him down. I struck a solid blow to our a.s.sailant's right eye." Her voice was edged with savage satisfaction. "I'm quite sure it will be swollen shut."

"I noticed that the horse had a white blaze on its forehead, and a stocking of the same color on its hind leg-" Arianna sucked in a sharp breath on spotting a small dark circle spreading just below the epaulette of Sophia's claret-colored riding jacket. "Good Lord, you are hurt, Miss Kirtland!"

Sophia touched a gloved hand to her shoulder and looked in quizzical bemus.e.m.e.nt at the smear of blood on the kidskin. "Oh."

"Dismount this instant and let me take a look at you."

Grentham swung around. "I'll summon help."

"No! The last thing we want to do is attract attention to the attack." Arianna grabbed the reins of Sophia's gray and handed them to the minister. "Let's get ourselves into the shelter of the bushes so that I can take a look at the wound. Then we can decide how to proceed."

Taking Sophia by her uninjured arm, Arianna marched her to a secluded spot screened by the leafy branches. "Sit down," she ordered, grateful to find a rock outcropping. Without further ado, she began peeling back the layers of fabric.

"Have you a handkerchief, Lord Grentham?"

The minister pulled a snowy white square of linen from his pocket and handed it over. "Surely we must summon a surgeon," he said tightly.

"Not necessary," said Arianna, folding the handkerchief into a thick pad. "It's just a flesh wound. A bit of pressure will staunch the bleeding. Once I get Miss Kirtland home, I'll have Mr. Henning come bandage it properly. But I doubt it will require st.i.tches."

Sophia swayed slightly.

"You are doing quite nicely, Miss Kirtland. Is this the first time you've been knifed?"

"Yes," answered Sophia faintly. She glanced down at the makes.h.i.+ft bandage and blanched. "I can't say that I wish to make a habit of it."

A growl rumbled in Grentham's throat.

"No, indeed not," said Arianna quickly before he could comment. "I can a.s.sure you the experience does not improve with repet.i.tion." Seeking to keep her companion distracted, she recounted several of her dockyard tales from the Caribbean. "The Malay captain was quicker than a snake. I thought I'd escaped his blade when I swung away on the rope, but he nicked my b.u.m just as I cleared the s.h.i.+p's railing."

Sophia started laughing. "Do you have a scar?"

"Shaped like a half-moon." She darted a glance at the minister, who was standing rather stiffly by her side. "Sorry if we are shocking you, sir."

Scowling, he muttered something about "deucedly odd females."

"Seeing as we offend your sensibilities, sir, you may feel free to leave," said Sophia.

"Indeed, you ought to be pursuing that cur Stoughton, not wasting precious time with us," added Arianna.

"But I can't very well rush off and leave you two ladies here on your own," exclaimed Grentham. "What if you were to . . . faint?"

Arianna and Sophia each fixed him with a coldly disdainful stare. "I've never fainted in my life," they snapped in unison.

Looking uncertain, Grentham cleared his throat with a defensive cough. "Hmmph. Shock often sets in as a delayed reaction."

"I'm well aware of that, but as far as shocks go, this one is really quite mild," said Arianna. "There was a time off the island of Guadeloupe . . . Oh, but never mind that now."

"I a.s.sure you, there is no need to kick up a dust, sir," said Sophia, shooing him away with a wave of her bloodstained glove. "We are quite capable of managing on our own. I have every confidence in Lady Saybrook's ability to patch me up and get me home without making a fuss about it."

Seeing Sophia's pale face, Arianna did not blame the minister for looking unconvinced.

"Speaking of making a fuss, how is it that you were here on the scene, Lord Grentham?" demanded her companion. "Are you still spying on us?"

His nostrils flared. "I was taking a shortcut through the park to my office at Horse Guards." He paused for just an instant. "As I do every day."

"At this early hour?" scoffed Sophia.

"I am often at my desk by this time in the morning." A thin smile pinched at his mouth. "Trouble waits for no man."

"Or woman," quipped Arianna, wiping her hands on her skirts. "Saybrook is not going to be happy about this-"

"Oh, let's not tell him," exclaimed Sophia. "He'll demand that we stop investigating."

Arianna hesitated. Her thoughts were running in much the same direction, so she was sorely tempted to agree. However, a glance at Grentham slowed her scheming to a halt. "I'm afraid we can't count on the minister not to spill the beans. With him, logic often seems to fall on deaf ears-he has a very low opinion of females and will probably do it simply out of spite."

The minister's cheeks turned a mottled red. She guessed it wasn't because of the chill wind.

"You ladies aren't frightened?" he demanded.