Recipe for Treason (12 page)

Before Arianna could inquire as to what that name was, the viscount was called away by a friend to answer a question about an upcoming auction of horses at Tattersall’s. It was probably just as well, she decided. No doubt he had endured a great deal of teasing at school. Children could be cruel—sometimes more so than adults.

“Will you be attending the Mayfair Scientific Society meetings with Miss Kirtland?” inquired Lady Urania. “Our members are mostly female, but I think you will find that the lectures are not frivolous.”

“I have not yet settled on how long I shall be staying in London,” she replied evasively. “So I am not sure what my plans will be.”

“Of course.” Twisting the fringe of her shawl around her fingers, Lady Urania retreated into her brother’s shadow. “Well, I mustn’t keep you from meeting the other guests. I do hope we shall meet again.”

“An odd pair,” murmured Arianna, once they had rounded a display of potted palms. She paused beneath the gently swaying fronds, savoring the whisper of a breeze that stirred the overheated air.

“I suppose the same could be said for most people in this room,” muttered Sophia. “Polite Society prefers females to be brainless widgets and men to be debauched wastrels.”

“So aside from attending scientific lectures, you prefer the company of your cat to that of humans?”

“In general, yes,” said Sophia somewhat testily. “But I thought you just asked about the Mortley siblings, not my personal proclivities.”

“Please go on,” said Arianna.

“Lady Urania is, as you see, very earnest, while Canaday is, shall we say, the livelier of the two.”

“He seems pleasant. Is he well liked among his peers?”

Sophia gave the question careful consideration. “Quite,” she answered. “As you see, he has an easy manner, a dry wit and an excellent mind when he chooses to be serious.” Her lips pursed in thought. “He’s very kind and protective of his sister.”

“It sounds like I should cultivate an acquaintance with him and his sister. He appears to be well connected, and though she is quiet, his constant presence near her will provide me the opportunity to chat about the institution and its members.”

“I see that one does have to possess a devious mind to do this,” mused Sophia.

Was that a deliberate barb, or merely a blunt observation?
Arianna didn’t know her companion well enough to decide.

“It’s a matter analyzing the problem at a hand,” she replied. “Solving questions of human nature is not all that different from solving conundrums in chemistry or mathematics.”

Sophia’s brow furrowed.

“One must use cold logic in both,” she added. “So I prefer to see it as possessing an ability to be both rational and creative.”

“Hmmm.”

Again, the sound was impossible to interpret.

“I agree that Canaday may be useful, but he’s only on the fringe of Davy’s inner circle,” said Sophia. “Come and meet Bartlett. He spins within its very center. As does Wrighthall, who’s just joined him.”

* * *

Willoughby, Lawrance, Chittenden, Canaday . . .

The new faces were already beginning to blur together. Squeezing her eyes shut, Arianna pressed her fingertips to her brow, trying to ease the ache pulsing against her skull.

“Lud, what a tangle,” she muttered, pulling the brim of her tattered hat a little lower. The coming weeks were going to be a daunting challenge, what with the constant masquerades and the delicate dealings with Saybrook’s elderly aunt and prickly female friend.

“Somehow, I must dance along a razor’s edge,” she went on, wiggling through a hole in the alleyway fence. Dressed as a street urchin, she was making her way back home from the residence rented for the phantom Mrs. Greeley. “One tiny slip and the blade’s bite could prove lethal.”

As if I need a reminder of how dangerous a path lies ahead.

Ducking into the shadows of the mews, Arianna quickly made her way to the back entrance of the town house and slipped inside. The thought of Henning brooding over the murder of his nephew made her even more determined to keep her footing on the treacherous steel.

“What is that stench?” Saybrook put down his cup and turned around from the kitchen worktable as she entered.

“You don’t want to know.” She peeled off her filthy jacket and tossed it into one of the storage pantries. “The disgusting odor discourages anyone from getting too close.”

The earl blew out a breath through his nose. “Wash your face. Then come have some of Bianca’s spiced chocolate.”

“That feels
much
better,” she said a few minutes later, returning from the scullery in a clean shirt and freshly soaped skin. Shaking loose the pins from her tightly wound hair, she heaved a sigh and watched a curl of steam rise from the chocolate pot. “That smells ambrosial.”

“How did it go?” asked Saybrook as he poured her a cup.

Like the rich brew, the question swirled with subtle nuances. Arianna took a sip before answering. “Quite well, all things considered.”

Click, click, click.
He stirred his drink, the silver spoon tapping softly against the fine porcelain.

“I’m glad that I had a chance to hear Willoughby speak, for I am now beginning to understand how science can have a magnetic effect on people. In addition, I made some interesting acquaintances at the reception and have an invitation to attend a soiree later this week, which many of Davy’s inner circle are expected to attend.” She went on to give a more detailed account of the lecture and reception.

Click, click, click.
“No problems with Miss Kirtland?”

“None to speak of. She was a little nervous beforehand but carried off her role very well.” Arianna tried to read his expression through the scrim of steam, but the hazy light and the dark fringe of his lashes made it impossible. “Is there a reason she is so skittish around men?”

Her husband pursed his lips. “I have the feeling that she’s suffered a bitter disappointment at some point in her life. However, I have never asked.”

“No? And yet, the two of you clearly have a friendship—” Arianna immediately regretted her words. They sounded so . . . shrewish. “But then,” she quickly amended, “I am hardly one to talk about guarding intimate secrets from the past.”

He shifted uncomfortably on his stool. “Arianna, Miss Kirtland and I meet to discuss science, not personal matters.”

“I am merely trying to understand her,” she responded tartly. “If we are to work together, we must know each other’s strengths and weaknesses.”

“I am aware of that.” Saybrook expelled a long breath. “Trust me, I am no happier than you are over the fact that we’ve had to improvise and draw in new allies. I would much prefer to work alone, but we don’t have that choice if we hope to unmask Renard before he creates mayhem.”

He sounded tense, tired, and she felt a little guilty on realizing how much he must miss Henning. The two of them had been close comrades for years and had gone through many battles together.

“I’m sorry, Sandro,” murmured Arianna, suddenly aware that her own relationship with the earl was the shortest of all. “I know how much you trust and value Basil’s counsel. And his friendship.” She waited a moment before going on. “Just as I know that it means we must not only trap Renard, but also learn the truth about why Basil’s nephew was murdered. It won’t bring the boy back, but it will allow the wound to heal in time. Uncertainty will only make it fester.”

Saybrook took a long sip of his chocolate. “Yet another challenge to add to the list.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “Trust me, I know that his absence makes things much more difficult for you.”

“You are the one facing a greater challenge.” He fixed her with a searching stare. “There are definitely dangers to working with a stranger—”

“I’ve discussed that with Miss Kirtland, and to give her credit, she is wise enough to see it. So we’ve agreed to address the problem.”

“You have?” A wary note had crept into his voice.

“Don’t sound so worried—we are not about to square off in a bout of fisticuffs or draw pistols at dawn.”

Saybrook chuffed a harried laugh. “Thank God.”

“We have arranged to meet for an early-morning walk in the park several days a week—it’s perfectly respectable, so if anyone notices, it shouldn’t stir any attention. In fact, we plan to begin tomorrow.”

“As which female will you appear?” he inquired.

She smiled. “I did mull that over and decided to be myself. There is always the chance for making a mistake that might give away the masquerade, especially given the need to travel back and forth between residences. So I think it’s prudent to limit Mrs. Greeley’s appearances to scientific gatherings.”

“You don’t worry that Renard may grow suspicious on seeing Miss Kirtland friendly with both you and the newly arrived widow from America?”

“Now that Miss Kirtland has introduced me—that is, Mrs. Greeley—to the Royal Institution, I don’t really need her to be seen with me in public anymore. So the connection will appear slight.”

Saybrook started to protest, but she waved him to silence and hurried on. “In battle, a general must always assess the risks and decide which is greater. I have an idea on how she may be more useful to us in another role.”

He frowned.

“But I want to think it over a bit more before discussing it with you.”

“Very well.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the scarred oak planking. The lamplight flickered, catching the toffee-gold highlights in his dark eyes. “I trust that you will be careful and won’t do anything to put yourself at greater risk.”

“You have my promise on that.”

A ripple stirred in the depth of his gaze. “Thank you.”

She reached out to touch his cheek. “You’ve learned something—something that’s put you on edge.”

He nodded. “So far it’s naught but vague bits and pieces of information that may or may not fit together as a whole.”

“But if they do?”

“Then the danger to England—and indeed, to all of Europe—is beyond our wildest imagination.”

Arianna felt a chill snake down her spine. “Good heavens, you are the most down-to-earth person I have ever met, Sandro. I confess, I am surprised that you are letting your fears fly away with you.”

Saybrook gave an odd little laugh. “I assure you, I’m not.” He drew in a deep breath, and she noted that his olive complexion had turned a little ashen in the uncertain light. “I’ve confirmed with a former comrade that Humphry Davy was working on developing a chemical explosive far more powerful than gunpowder for the British military. It was never fully developed for regular use, but the laboratory tests showed it to be terrifyingly effective.”

“We suspected the existence of such a substance after what we discovered in Vienna,” she pointed out. “And Girton’s notes pointed at Davy and his followers. So the news shouldn’t be a great shock.”

“No,
that
part isn’t.”

A strange flutter stirred in her chest, as if butterflies were beating their gossamer wings against the cage of her ribs. “You are beginning to frighten me.”

“Good, because I confess that I am scared witless.”

Arianna swallowed hard.

Saybrook’s voice dropped to a taut whisper. “Earlier this afternoon, I heard some disturbing rumors about Sir George Cayley and a joint secret scientific project involving Davy. I was tempted to dismiss them as too far-fetched, but when I asked my former comrade, he admitted that the talk was true.”

She could stand the suspense no longer. “What in the name of Lucifer is Cayley working on?”

“Lucifer is an apt expression,” he replied darkly. “In addition to his other inventions, Cayley has been working on the designs for a flying machine. One that can be used to carry a powerful bomb and drop it on a specific target.”

Her brows winged up. “That’s absurd . . . isn’t it?”

Saybrook lifted his shoulders, a gesture eloquent in its uncertainty.

“I mean, the French were quick to explore the use of balloons in warfare soon after the first manned flight, but I thought the air quickly leaked out of the idea.” She thought for a moment. “I seem to recall that Napoleon formed a corps of aeronauts and took them with him on his Egyptian campaign in 1798. However, as the balloons were at the mercy of the winds and proved impossible to steer, they were abandoned as useless for military purposes, save for the occasional reconnaissance flight.”

“Yes,” he replied. “For a time at the turn of the century, the Royal Society, which as you remember is England’s most prominent general scientific group, was worried that Napoleon was going to launch an airborne invasion of England. I believe it was the American Benjamin Franklin who warned that five thousand balloons, each carrying two soldiers, could transport an army of ten thousand across the Channel in a matter of hours. But when it became clear that balloons could not be controlled well enough, the threat seemed to die.”

His long fingers began to drum softly on the wood. “You are right about Napoleon disbanding his Compagnie d’Aérostiers as impractical. Indeed, the public’s fascination with balloon flight deflated over the years. The early launchings used to attract huge crowds—Lunardi, the first man to fly in England, drew over one hundred fifty thousand spectators to the Artillery Grounds in London, including the Prince of Wales. But these days, it’s just a handful of scientists laboring in obscurity who keep experimenting with different types of gases and steering mechanisms for the inflatable behemoths.”

“So what has changed?” she asked slowly.

A breath of air stirred the candle flame by the chocolate pot.

“Apparently Cayley’s machine isn’t a balloon . . .”

11

From Lady Arianna’s C
hocolate Notebooks

Blueberry Chocolate Tonic

2 cups cold blueberries

2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder

1
¹
/
₃
cups cold almond or oat milk

2 teaspoons flaxseed oil

3 teaspoons honey

1. Place all the ingredients in a blender and blend on high for about 30 seconds.

2. Drink immediately or the pectin in the blueberry seeds will make a pudding rather quickly. For extra health benefits, add 1 teaspoon licorice root powder.

“Y
ou must remember to relax your hands, milady. Horses can sense when you are nervous, and it makes them skittish as well.”

“Thank you, Jorge.” Arianna loosened her grip on the reins and urged her mount through the entrance to the park. “I think I shall manage better now that we are off the streets.” Fog swirled through the trees, obscuring the lawns and bridle paths in a sea of silvery mist.

“Would that I were seated on the teak taffrail of a schooner and not a dratted leather sidesaddle,” she muttered under her breath. She had little riding experience and was worried that at any moment the jarring trot was going to bounce her off her precarious perch. “How embarrassing if I were to land on my arse in front of Miss Kirtland.”

The groom came abreast of her and pointed out a mounted figure approaching at a canter. “Is that the lady you are meeting?”

Arianna squinted through the early-morning shadows and couldn’t help admiring the effortless grace of the rider. “Yes, I believe so,” she answered as the big gray stallion came closer.

“Good morning.” With a casual flick of her wrist, Sophia reined her mount to a walk.

Not a hair out of place, not a fold in a twist.
Arianna slanted a baleful look at the other lady’s stylish attire and suddenly regretted agreeing to a mounted rendezvous. From the pert little military shako framing the wheaten curls to the frogged jacket and tailored skirt, Sophia presented a picture of elegant refinement.

Despite her eccentricities, Miss Kirtland is at home in the English world of privilege, while I . . .

“Good morning,” she replied rather curtly. “I trust that I haven’t kept you waiting.”

“I came early,” replied Sophia, patting her horse’s lathered neck. “Early morning is the only time a lady may indulge in a good gallop without setting Society’s tongues to clucking.”

“I see.” Arianna turned to her groom. “You may stay here, Jorge. Miss Kirtland and I will just circle through the nearby bridle paths and return shortly.” The rules of propriety demanded the presence of a servant, but now that they were in the park, it was permissible to take a short interlude of privacy. “Perhaps you would care to lead the way, Miss Kirtland. I am not as familiar with the terrain as you appear to be.”

They rode on for several minutes, the rhythmic thud of the hooves and the whisper of leather and brass the only sounds between them. Arianna felt her mouth thin to a wry grimace. Mouthing polite pleasantries was not something she was very good at either.

“You don’t ride very well,” observed Sophia critically as they turned into a copse of trees. “It’s odd—you carry yourself with confidence on the ground, and yet sit in the saddle like a sack of grain.” She took another long look. “Square your shoulders, lift your chin . . . don’t stare down at the reins, but ahead, at where you are going.”

“Damnation,” muttered Arianna, trying to do as she was told. “I grew up around water and ships, not meadows and large, sweaty animals—at least not the four-footed kind.”

Sophia stifled a snigger.

“So I haven’t had much practice.”

“Why didn’t you say so? We could have walked instead,” said Sophia.

“Because,” she answered through gritted teeth, “I should like to practice my riding. I . . .”
Should I admit the real reason?
After all, if they were to get to know each other, they both must be willing to let down their guard.

“If you must know, I should like to surprise Sandro. He is, of course, a superb horseman, and it would be nice to be able to join him on occasion without embarrassing myself.”

“Ah.” They continued on for a moment as before, and then Sophia suddenly swung her stallion around and came up on Arianna’s other side. “Hold your hands a little lower.” She reached out and adjusted the angle of Arianna’s fists. “And for God’s sake, unclench your fingers. You’re not about to throw a punch.”

“Right,” muttered Arianna.

“Now, drop your leg just a touch, so it hooks more firmly around the pommel. And sit up straighter—correct posture is very important.”

“But it feels so awkward.”

“I know it feels odd at first,” replied Sophia. “But trust me, you will be far better balanced.”

Drawing a deep breath, Arianna tried to do as she was told.

“And lastly, try to move in rhythm with your horse’s gait. Fighting against the natural motion is what makes you bounce around like a rag doll.”

The path suddenly seemed to smooth out beneath her horse’s hooves.

“Better?” asked Sophia.

“Much.” Arianna no longer felt in danger of tumbling from the saddle. “Thank you.”

A hint of wintry sunlight peeked through the clouds, setting off sparkles in the lingering frost.

“Once you become comfortable, we can progress to a trot.” Sophia watched a little longer and then gave a nod of approval. “You learn fast. Most females are helpless when it comes to physical skills.”

“I had little choice—it was either sink or swim.”

“Right—you did mention water and ships.” Sophia’s expression turned curious. “I take it you did not grow up along the English coast. Otherwise horses wouldn’t seem so foreign to you.”

“Correct. I was raised in the West Indies.”

“Oh? Was your father a plantation owner?”

“No, he was a scoundrel.” Arianna made a wry face. “A charming scoundrel, but his partners in crime did not find some of his other qualities very endearing, so like many wayward sons of the aristocracy, he was forced to flee England and take refuge in the New World.”

“I—I am sorry. I did not mean to pry,” said Sophia a little stiffly.

“No apologies are necessary. As I mentioned the other day, we must get to know each other.” Arianna paused. “Did Sandro really tell you nothing about my background?”

Sophia shook her head. “Lord Saybrook is rather reticent about personal matters.”

A burble of laughter escaped Arianna’s lips. “
That
is a bit of an understatement.”

For an instant, Sophia appeared offended, but then her pinched expression curled into a grudging smile. “I am not sure who is more stone-faced—the Sphinx or the earl.”

“He is not easy to read,” Arianna agreed.

The air was growing warmer and a light breeze ruffled through the fallen leaves, slowly dispelling the mist. Snorting, the stallion tossed its head and tugged at the reins, impatient to pick up the pace.

Steadying the animal with an expert hand, Sophia cleared her throat with a brusque cough. “Might I ask how you came to return to England and met Lord Saybrook?”

“That, I fear, is a very long story. However, I won’t bore you with all the gory details. Suffice it to say, my father was murdered by his former partners, leaving me orphaned at the age of fourteen. I did not care to accept the innkeeper’s offer of trading my body for his protection, so I decided to fend for myself.”

Arianna closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the years spent drifting through countless hellhole harbors and rum-drenched taverns. “I learned a number of very useful skills, like picking pockets, cheating at cards, acting in a traveling theatre troupe, and cooking.”

“The one thing Lord Saybrook did tell me was that you were very knowledgeable about chocolate,” said Sophia.

“Our local housekeeper was not only a cook but also a renowned healer, so I gleaned a lot from her about esoteric plants and herbs—as well as how to use knives and cleavers.” A pause. “Just ask Sandro.”

Sophia’s eyes widened.

“In any case,” went on Arianna. “Along with learning the fine points about cuisine, I was also cooking up a plan to punish my father’s killers. Working as a cook for the crew of a merchant ship, I earned my passage back to England and embarked on my quest for revenge. But to quote my father’s favorite poet, ‘the best laid plans of mice and men’. . .”

“Which is to say, things did not go as planned?”

“Indeed, they did not. I was soon jumping from the frying pan into the fire. If not for a fortuitous encounter with Saybrook, I might have been burned to a crisp.”

“And?”

“And as the earl had his own reasons for wanting to pursue the men I was after, we decided to join forces, so to speak. The rest is . . . Well, I’m afraid that I’m not at liberty to divulge the details, other than to say we both were satisfied that justice was done.”

“Good heavens, have you considered writing a novel?” quipped Sophia.

“Unlike you, I have no formal education, no fancy bookish learning,” answered Arianna. “My literary skills are completely unpolished.”

“Yet your story is far more interesting than mine.” Sophia bit back a sigh. “I’ve led a very staid life. It won’t take but a minute to tell you about my background.”

“Nonetheless, it will have to wait until next time.” They had reached the end of the path and Sophia was already turning her stallion to return to the waiting groom. “I need to tell you about Sandro’s latest discovery.” She quickly went on to explain about Cayley and his secret work with Sir Humphry Davy.

Sophia let out a low hiss of air. “A flying machine? If it’s not a balloon, what does the thing look like?”

“I have no idea,” answered Arianna. “I haven’t seen a sketch.”

“Mmmph.” Gazing up at the clouds, Sophia said, “I know that a number of chemists were experimenting with different gases to provide lift for balloons, for at one point it was thought that altering pressures during flight could help control direction. But the efforts seemed to fizzle out. As intriguing as the idea of air travel was, the potential seemed impossible to harness.” A gust of air set the feather in her shako to dancing in the pale light. “If Cayley has indeed come up with a new type of flying machine, the invention would be revolutionary.”

“Earth-shattering,” said Arianna. “Quite literally.”

The dreamy expression disappeared from Sophia’s face. “Yes, of course. The application of such an invention to warfare would be terrible. I was thinking of the theory, not the reality.”

“The reality is, the plans for this flying machine, combined with a powerful new chemical explosive, could be used to wreak unimaginable destruction both here and abroad. An army possessing both would be unstoppable.”

“So how do you plan to stop the enemy before he gets off the ground?”

“Attending Chittenden’s soiree takes on an even greater importance. I need to work myself into the good graces of the institution’s inner circle as quickly as possible.”

“How can I help—”

“You can’t,” said Arianna. “Not there, that is. We need your help in another way.” Knowing full well how dangerous desperate men could be, she was loath to draw an inexperienced person into the heart of the fray. “We must not forget to explore the other clues we have concerning Renard. Lord Reginald Sommers was heading his network in Vienna, so we must take a closer look at his friends and family.”

A twitch tugged at the corners of Sophia’s mouth. “I—I don’t move in those circles.”

“But you could, given your family connections,” said Arianna softly. “You’ve known many members of the
ton
since childhood. I haven’t, which is a distinct drawback. I’ve enlisted Sandro’s great-aunt to help me. But it would be a great asset to have you as well. You are close in age to Lord Reginald and his friends, so I imagine that you have some idea of their character.”

It might have been a quirk of the clouds, but her face seemed to darken for an instant. “You mean that you want me to dance through the mansions of Mayfair, attending frivolous balls and soirees given by shallow, superficial aristocrats?”

“Yes,” answered Arianna. “I know it’s a lot to ask.”

Sophia turned to watch another early-morning rider galloping toward the Serpentine.

“So if you would rather remain in your laboratory and serve as a technical consultant, Sandro and I will certainly understand.”

Though fashioned of velvet rather than chain mail and leather, a gauntlet had been tossed at the other lady’s feet.

Would she accept the challenge?

Sophia stiffened her spine and squared her shoulders. “You and the earl are certainly doing your fair share of distasteful tasks. Seeing as I have agreed to be a partner in this, I can hardly refuse to do my part.”

“Thank you,” said Arianna, grateful that she had won a quick surrender.

It was her hope that keeping Sophia and Constantina engaged with Society would remove them from the direct line of fire.

“This monster must be stopped before he murders more innocent people.”

Arianna eyed her husband’s friend, taking in the strong, sculpted lines of her profile and the resolute jut of her jaw. “I hope you aren’t regretting your involvement. This investigation may be even more dangerous than we feared.”