Recipe for Treason Part 11

Charles Mellon, Saybrook's uncle and a senior diplomat with the Foreign Office, chuckled. "As they were in Vienna, I imagine that Sandro could write a book about royal peccadilloes as well as one on the history of chocolate."

"Oh, do tell us, is the Russian Tsar as much of a rake as is reported in the newspaper?" asked Mellon's wife, Eleanor.

Arianna bit back a harried laugh. Given that his name had become entangled in a treasonous plot, Mellon had never been told the real reason for their recent trip to the Austrian capital. He and his wife thought the earl had wished to study the collection of early ma.n.u.scripts from the New World held at the Emperor's famous rare book library.

"Alexander loves fine wine, rich food and beautiful women," answered Saybrook with a small smile. "He was very attentive toward Arianna. They became . . . well acquainted."

"The Tsar is a glutton for pleasure," added Arianna. "Though I a.s.sure you that from me he got only tiny morsels of friendship." A pause. "To his credit, he has some redeeming qualities."

"And what about Prince Metternich?" asked Mellon. "It is said-"

"Come along, my dear," said Constantina, punctuating the command with a sharp rap of her exotic cane.

Arianna dutifully offered her arm to the elderly dowager. "When did you start needing to walk with the aid of a support, Constantina?" she asked in concern, once they were in the corridor.

"Oh pish! I haven't slowed a step," responded the dowager with an evil grin. "Lord Gambrill brought this stick to me from Constantinople. Like me, it's an antique, and I enjoy looking at the filigree gold work and jewels of the handle." Humor glinted in her pale gray eyes. "Besides, it's rather fun to wave it at everyone and see them scamper out of arm's reach."

"Ah." Arianna laughed. "I am glad to hear that your body is keeping pace with your wit."

"Thank G.o.d my mind seems as sharp as ever," replied Constantina. "At my age, one worries about sinking into permanent decline, but I intend to go down kicking and screaming." As they entered the library, the dowager directed her Turkish cane at the sideboard, where a bottle of champagne was sitting in a silver cooler. "Pour me a gla.s.s of bubbly and let's have a comfortable little talk together before rejoining the others."

Over the cheerful fizz of the wine, Arianna amused her elderly great-aunt by marriage with anecdotes from their Austrian sojourn, taking care to omit any mention of the darker reasons for their travels. No one, save for Grentham and his inner circle, knew of the trip to Scotland.

"Hmmph. Given all the excitement of Vienna, with its glittering celebrities and late-night revelries, it's no wonder you look a little peaked." Arching her silvery brows, Constantina lifted her quizzing gla.s.s and looked Arianna up and down. "You're not increasing, gel?"

"Only with chocolate," quipped Arianna. Though she appreciated the dowager's blunt frankness, this particular question made her a little uncomfortable. She slowly spun the gla.s.s between her fingers before adding, "In all seriousness, Constantina, I don't know if I can . . . bear children. I did warn Sandro of the possibility . . ."

The cane whapped against sofa pillows. "Sandro looks quite satisfied with the state of his marriage." The dowager spoke lightly, but a spark of sympathy lit in her eyes. "Besides, some women need a long time to conceive. You simply must let nature take its course."

For an instant, Arianna couldn't help but picture Sophia Kirtland, who possessed such an intriguing face and erudite mind.

Suddenly anxious to change the topic of conversation, she nodded and quickly said, "Actually I have another delicate subject to discuss. Might we discuss it now, before rejoining the family? I should prefer that Sandro doesn't overhear what I am about to say."

"I am very liberal minded about many things, my dear," murmured Constantina. "But bear in mind that I am exceedingly fond of my great-nephew. So if you are about to confess to some marital scandal, I am not sure I can lend a sympathetic ear."

Arianna smiled. "No, no, the scandal does not involve me, but the old earl-Sandro's father." She watched the candlelight play off the faceted crystal before drawing a deep breath and going on.

"Has Sandro told you he has a sister?"

Constantina nearly choked on a sip of champagne. "A sister?"

"A half sister," amended Arianna. "Who may or may not be legitimate." She went on to explain about how Saybrook had discovered the existence of a sibling when going through his late father's papers. "The girl-her name is Antonia-is currently at a school in Shropshire. Charles is using his diplomatic connections to make discreet inquiries in Spain about whether the old earl was, in fact, married to Antonia's mother."

"I confess, this is quite a great surprise."

"Not an unwelcome one, I hope," said Arianna. "For you see, regardless of the circ.u.mstances surrounding her birth, Sandro would like to have Antonia come live with us and make a proper come-out in Society."

"It could be done," mused the dowager. "Not easily, mind you. But with a concerted effort to cultivate the right support from influential members of the ton during the winter months before the Season begins, she could receive invitations from most everyone who matters."

"I was hoping you would say that," replied Arianna. She knew that Saybrook was reluctant to draw Lady Sterling into their dangerous mission, but in thinking over the situation, she believed that she had come up with a clever compromise. "Naturally, I will need to learn a great deal about the inner workings of Society in order to help. I hope that I may turn to you for guidance."

"But of course! In truth, it will be great fun." A martial gleam lit in the dowager's eye. "Ha! Just let any of the high sticklers try to whisper a nasty word about the gel."

Arianna quickly stilled a twinge of guilt. Experience has taught me that one sometimes has to be devious and duplicitous for good to triumph over evil. This strategy would allow her to ask Lady Sterling a good many probing questions without telling the elderly dowager the real reason.

"Ha!" echoed Arianna, hoping her laugh didn't sound too forced. "I can't imagine anyone having the courage to cross verbal swords with you. Even Lord Grentham does not care to test his steel against yours."

Lady Sterling tapped the handle of her cane against her palm. "Actually, I rather hope he does." Her eyes narrowed. "Has he been pestering you?"

"Not really," answered Arianna. "I did exchange some barbs with him at the Marquess of Milford's house party several months ago, but it's nothing to worry about."

Tap. Tap. The dowager waggled a brow. "Somehow, I have the feeling you are not telling me everything, gel."

"I-"

"Nor do I expect you to," went on Lady Sterling. "Whatever you are up to, you can count on my help." Tap, tap. She set down her gla.s.s. "Now, we had better return to the others and sit down to supper, before Cook burns the Christmas goose."

"How do I look?" Stepping away from the cheval gla.s.s, Arianna fluffed her skirts and turned in a slow circle.

Saybrook pursed his lips and studied her with a critical eye. "I hate to admit it," he said after several moments. "But I'm not sure I would recognize my own wife if we pa.s.sed on the street."

"Then there should be no worry about anyone connecting Mrs. Greeley, newly arrived from Boston, with the Countess of Saybrook." She cast another glance at her reflection. A henna wash had added rich red highlights to her dark hair, and kohl had darkened her eyes, subtly changing their shape. Lip color made her mouth look fuller and wider, while her bosom and hips had been padded, giving her willowy form a lusher shape.

"There is a certain benefit to being something of a recluse," she murmured, smoothing at the ruffles edging her bodice. "Most of the people attending the inst.i.tution lectures have never met me, which makes a masquerade like this far easier to pull off."

The earl's gaze remained riveted on her enhanced decolletage. "What do you use to create such curves?"

"Never mind," replied Arianna. She batted her lashes at him. "Feminine secrets," she drawled, practicing her American accent. "Bianca's cousin is a very skilled modiste, and combined with my experience in theatre costumes, we came up with a whole new wardrobe." The colors and embellishments were deliberately brighter and bolder than her usual style. "I trust that you will send the bill to Grentham."

"I should like to see his face when he opens it," quipped the earl.

"Fine silks and fancy accessories are expensive, and Mrs. Greeley must appear fashionable enough to move in the highest circles of Society." She picked up her reticule. "The gowns have been delivered to the house on Half Moon Street." Saybrook had rented a town house to serve as the American widow's residence, and two servants from their Shropshire estate had come up to serve as a makeshift staff.

Yet another costly expenditure-but then, justice was worth any price.

"The minister would likely fall victim to a fit of apoplexy if you asked him to pay," she said.

"Then I shall be sure to pa.s.s him a bill. Well padded-like your false chest."

Arianna made a face at him before tying the ribbons of her new bonnet. "I must be off. Needless to say, you can't be seen with me."

"There is a chance that you may be spotted entering or leaving from here on in, so we need to-"

"Yes, yes, I've been giving that careful consideration. From now on, I shall dress at the Half Moon house. It's far easier for a street urchin to slip through the back alleys of Mayfair without anyone noticing," said Arianna. "But today, I shall sneak out with the modiste, wearing one of her a.s.sistant's cloaks, and ride in her carriage to the shop. From there I will go out the front door and hail a hackney to take me to Miss Kirtland's residence."

Saybrook nodded, finding no fault with the plan. However, after a slight hesitation, he cleared his throat. "Arianna, you are exceedingly clever. But so is Renard. We have been lucky in our two previous encounters with him, yet we both know that luck can be fickle. Do not make the mistake of underestimating his cunning."

"I won't," she promised. "I've a lifetime of experience in eluding predators, so I'm very aware that I can't let down my guard for an instant if I wish to survive."

Her words only deepened his frown. "Rather than rea.s.sure me, such a statement only reminds me that you are taking all the risks, while I sit with my nose buried in books and papers."

"Learning more about Cayley and Girton's friends is important-you know that. Not to speak of learning the truth about why Basil's nephew was murdered, for I can't help but believe that it is in some way related to Renard," she replied. A tug straightened the hem of her glove. "I really must be going. It wouldn't do to be late."

The circuitous route finally brought Arianna to Miss Kirtland's town house. Sophia was waiting in the entrance hall, facing a mirror and fidgeting with the strings of her bonnet. As she turned around, Arianna heard the breath catch in her throat.

After a sliver of silence, Sophia seemed to recover her composure. "You should have kept the hackney waiting. My footman will now have to summon a fresh one," she said, somewhat belligerently. "I don't bother with the extra expense of keeping a carriage, as I so rarely go out."

"I'm sorry," murmured Arianna. "We must learn more about each other's backgrounds and habits."

"Why?" challenged Sophia.

"Because," she explained carefully, "if we are to present ourselves as friends, we must be able to carry it off. Ignorance might cause one of us to make a critical mistake."

"I see."

"Think of it as soldiers going into battle," continued Arianna. "The more you know and trust your comrades, the more you will know intuitively how they will react in the heat of the fight. That may make the difference between life and death."

"That makes sense," conceded Sophia. Lapsing into a stiff silence, she turned to the side table and began gathering up her gloves and notebooks.

The servant returned and escorted them out to the waiting hackney.

As the wheels clattered over the cobbles, Arianna heaved an inward sigh. She couldn't help but wonder whether this plan was going to work. Fighting a skilled enemy was going to be hard enough-to be constantly skirmishing with an ally . . .

A brusque cough interrupted her reflections. Shifting uncomfortably against the squabs, Sophia slanted a sidelong look her way. "You . . . you appear awfully conversant with the art of disguise."

"You mean deception?" said Arianna dryly. "Yes, I am. Has Saybrook not mentioned anything to you about my background?"

Sophia shook her head. "Your husband and I discuss science, not personal subjects."

Deciding to take the bull by the horns, she turned to face her companion. "Yet you offered your advice on his decision to marry. That seems a very personal topic."

A flush of red ridged Sophia's cheekbones. "I warned you that I was outspoken and opinionated."

"I appreciate both qualities. But you also need to be honest with me, if we are to have any chance of success." Arianna fixed her companion with a level gaze. "Miss Kirtland, are you, perchance, in love with my husband? "

"G-g-good G.o.d," sputtered Sophia. "In l-l-love . . . No!"

"Not that it would present an insurmountable obstacle to our working together. However, it would be far less awkward to have it out in the open. That way we can find a path around it."

"I consider Lord Saybrook a friend, nothing more. Indeed, I have no amorous interest in any man."

"Ah." Arianna thought for a moment. "Do you prefer females? It's not for any prurient reason that I ask. Nor am I making any moral judgments. But a fact like that is important for me to know."

Her companion's face was now completely beet red. "That is not what I meant. It's simply . . ." She sucked in a sharp breath. "d.a.m.nation. I'd rather not discuss my past." Her chin tilted up a notch. "I fear you would be shocked by certain revelations."

"I highly doubt it," replied Arianna. "Very little shocks me. My own life has not, to put it mildly, followed a pattern card of propriety." A quick glance through the grimy windowpane showed they were nearing their destination. "But further discussion of our backgrounds should probably wait for another time. Tell me more about Willoughby. I have read a few articles on Humphry Davy's early life and his scientific achievements, in order not to make a fool of myself when claiming to be interested in chemistry. But I've not yet had a chance to learn much about the interim director. I should like to hear your impressions of the man."

Sophia shifted her reticule in her lap.

"a.s.suming I haven't frightened you off with my bluntness."

A low laugh, barely audible above the rattle of the mullioned gla.s.s. "To take umbrage at your plain speaking would be rather like the pot calling the kettle black. I like to think of myself as an objective, rational person who can look at a problem dispa.s.sionately and use logic to solve it. You have explained clearly why certain things must be done, and I am willing to defer to your experience. There is no reason why we can't make this work."

An oblique way of saying we need not like each other to fight side by side, thought Arianna.

"Good," she said aloud. "Now, about Willoughby. Is he really the showman he's made out to be in the newspapers?"

"Yes," answered Sophia without hesitation. "He's nearly as brilliant as Davy. And many of the ladies find him even more attractive. Sir Humphry is quite short-barely five feet in heeled boots-while Willoughby cuts an imposing figure. He stands over six feet tall and deliberately cultivates a dramatic image." Her mouth quirked. "Lord Byron once mentioned that Willoughby reminded him of a corsair, so the director now wears his hair tied back in a queue with a black velvet ribbon and sports an earring in one lobe. According to rumor, he has a large box full of precious baubles sent by his female admirers."

"Perhaps he should be treading the boards at the Drury Lane theatre, rather than the stage at the inst.i.tution," said Arianna dryly.

"No question he enjoys playing a role," said Sophia. "But as I said, he has substance as well as style."

"But it sounds like one can appeal to his vanity."

Sophia considered the statement. "Yes. He's definitely not immune to flattery. I've heard whispers that beneath the show of affable charm, he's highly ambitious and secretly aspires to take over Davy's place permanently."

"Interesting." Arianna made mental note of the weakness. Perhaps it could be wielded as a weapon.

The hackney turned onto Albemarle Street and lurched to a halt, putting an end to the discussion of strategy.

"Now, remember," she cautioned as Sophia reached for the door handle. "I am Mrs. Greeley, a widow from America. We met at Hatchard's bookstore and discovered we had a mutual interest in chemistry."

"Yes, yes," murmured Sophia. She sounded calm, but to Arianna's eye, a telltale flush of heat on her cheeks betrayed a hint of nerves.

"One last thing. It's known that you are . . . not overly sociable. So don't try to act out of character. Introduce me to one or two members of the inner circle and then step back and let me take charge. If I need further help, I shall contrive to find you and let you know."

True to her word, Sophia did not take offense. "I understand."

"Take several deep breaths, and relax," she counseled. "I'm sure you played charades as a child. So think of this as a game-a challenge to your wits-and it will go fine."

Lost in thought, Saybrook stepped into the path of an oncoming high-perch phaeton as he turned down Whitehall Street.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l!" swore the irate driver as his team of matched chestnuts shied away. "Are you looking to get yourself killed, man?"

The earl waved an apology and quickened his pace toward Horse Guards. "Get myself killed," he muttered under his breath. "No matter which way I turn these days, Death seems to be shadowing my steps." So far, he hadn't made much headway in identifying Girton's London friend. The men suggested by Connery had all seemed unlikely candidates. However, following a lead he had just gleaned from talking with a fellow member of the London Scientific Society, he had decided to head straight to the military headquarters of the Home Guard.

Rather than proceed through the archway and take the stairs up to Grentham's offices, the earl ducked through a side door and cut though to the warren of rooms next to the stables.

"Is Colonel Greville in?" he asked the adjutant standing guard at the door. "Tell him De Quincy wishes to see him."

The young man returned shortly. "This way, sir."

"Sandro!" The colonel pushed aside a stack of dossiers and rose from his desk. "Or must I now tug at my forelock and call you Lord Saybrook?"