Recipe for Treason Part 17

"I don't need a lecture on tactics, laddie," replied Henning. "If you want to win the war against a cunning enemy general, ye'll need to destroy not only him but all his field officers. So while you concentrate on Renard, I'll do some reconnoitering of my own."

13.

From Lady Arianna's Chocolate Notebooks Intense Chocolate Mousse Cake 10 ounces bittersweet chocolate 9 tablespoons unsalted b.u.t.ter 6 large eggs, separated Pinch of salt 3/4 cup granulated sugar 2 tablespoons brandy 1 teaspoon confectioners' sugar 1. Preheat the oven to 350F. Cover the outside of a 9-inch springform pan with a double layer of foil. Using a microwave oven or double boiler, melt the chocolate and b.u.t.ter together; set aside to cool.

2. Using an electric mixer, whisk the egg whites and salt until thick. Add 1/4 cup of the granulated sugar, and continue to whisk until stiff and shiny but not dry. Set aside. In another bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and remaining 1/2 cup granulated sugar until pale, frothy and increased in volume. Whisk in the brandy. Fold in the cooled chocolate mixture.

3. Place a kettle of water over heat, and bring it to a boil. Fold about 1/2 cup of the whisked egg whites into the chocolate mixture to lighten it. Gently fold in the remaining whites, being careful not to let the mixture deflate. Pour the mixture into the prepared springform pan, and place the springform pan in a roasting pan. Add boiling water to the roasting pan to come halfway up the side of the springform pan. Bake for 45 minutes; the top of the cake will be hard and the inside will be gooey.

4. Remove the cake pan from the water, and place on a rack to cool completely. Unwrap the foil and remove the side of the springform pan. Place the cake on a serving platter. Just before serving, dust the top with confectioners' sugar pa.s.sed through a sieve.

"Well, this is quite a crush." Lowering her quizzing gla.s.s, Constantina gave a tiny nod of satisfaction at the crowd funneling into the ballroom. They had taken momentary refuge in one of the shallow alcoves created by the decorative colonnading that ran along one of the walls. "As I suspected, no one wanted to miss the festivities. Lord and Lady Brodhead are known for serving sumptuous suppers and superb wines."

Arianna drew in a lungful of air, its warmth already sticky with the lush scents of hothouse flowers and expensive perfumes. "I have never understood why the word 'crush' is considered such an accolade by Society."

"Kindly refrain from any further sarcasm tonight." Constantina waggled a warning brow. "I know your opinion of the ton, but remember, if you wish to begin cultivating friends and allies to help with Antonia's come-out, it's best to use honey, not vinegar."

"Don't worry. I can ooze sweetness when I choose." Arianna flashed her great-aunt by marriage a conspiratorial wink. "After all, I got your nephew to bite."

Constantina stifled a snort of amus.e.m.e.nt. "He prefers tartness to a mouthful of sugar."

"I trust you are not implying that I am a tart."

Another laugh. "I have no doubt that a good many interesting nouns apply to your former life. But be that as it may, tonight you are a countess." The dowager's gaze lingered for a moment on Arianna's stylish ball gown, fashioned in a subtle shade of smoke-tinged emerald silk. "A lady of supreme elegance and refinement."

The teasing was helping to unknot her nerves. She had avoided going out in Society, so the glittering opulence of the occasion was a little intimidating. "Never fear. If I can play the role of a street urchin, I can play the role of an aristocrat." Lifting her chin a notch, Arianna a.s.sumed a pose of regal hauteur. "Though I admit that I feel a little out of place in such gilded grandeur."

"As do I," muttered Sophia.

A wink of light sparked within the recessed niche of the colonnading as the dowager once again raised her gold-rimmed quizzing gla.s.s. Magnified by the faceted lens, the pale gray eye took on an accentuated clarity.

Age had not diminished its sharpness, thought Arianna, as the orb subjected the earl's friend to a thorough scrutiny. "Remind me again why you are accompanying us tonight, Miss Kirtland?"

"Moral support," said Arianna quickly, before Sophia could answer. "We have become friends through Sandro-Miss Kirtland is a very accomplished scientist. So he thought I would be more at ease if I had the company of a kindred soul."

"Hmmph." The jeweled walking stick tap-tapped on the polished parquet. "An odd choice." The dowager took another moment to study Sophia. "You are the d.u.c.h.ess of Brentford's granddaughter, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"You remind me of your grandmother, gel-you've got her strong bones and lively eyes. And from what I hear, your intelligence is not lacking. So it surprises me that you've spent years holed up in your little lair, afraid-"

"I'm not afraid," said Sophia tightly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I-I loathe the artifice and sn.o.bbery of Polite Society and choose to show my disdain by avoiding it."

"Well, if you really care about changing its prejudices, you're going about it all wrong," said the dowager bluntly. "You ought to come out occasionally with your head held high. Show your disdain by being yourself and forcing the tabbies to accept you."

Sophia inhaled sharply, the short, staccato rasp echoing off the fluted marble.

"It's not easy, I know. If you feel a little shaky, simply imagine whoever you are looking at naked-that usually strips away all pretenses." A glint of mischief hung on Constantina's silvery lashes. "Just don't look at the Prince Regent-the thought of seeing his pizzle would make anyone fall into a dead faint."

Biting her lips to keep from laughing, Arianna slanted a look at her companion. If one wasn't used to the dowager's rapier tongue . . .

To her credit, Sophia showed some mettle. "I doubt one could catch a glimpse of his pizzle beneath all those rolls of fat. Unless, of course, he were allowed to retain his corset. Still, not a pretty picture."

"That's the spirit," murmured the dowager with a flourish of her walking stick. "Now, I don't know what you two are up to, but I wager it's something interesting. What a pity that I'm not allowed to know the details."

"Aunt Constantina-" began Arianna.

"Oh pish, I understand. Sandro is probably quaking in his high-top Hessians, fearing that I would get myself into trouble." Tap, tap. "When he gets to be my age, he will understand that the prospect of trouble is rather exciting."

"I'll explain as much as I can, but . . ."

The music started, and Arianna paused for a moment to watch the gentlemen and ladies spin by, the swirl of jewel-tone silks and glittering gems a colorful contrast to the coal black evening coats and starched white cravats.

Pomp and privilege dancing with treachery and treason.

"But I, too, am concerned," she finished softly. "So you must allow me to go slowly."

"Fair enough." The dowager fingered the rope of pearls looped around her neck. "Is there anyone in particular you wish to meet?"

Arianna hesitated. "Whoever knows the social connections of the ton's leading families and likes to gossip."

"Hmmph." Turning a basilisk stare on the crowd, Constantina tapped her stick in time to the music. "Very well, I have some ideas. Now, both of you square your shoulders and come along. We have work to do."

Moving along the perimeter of the dance floor, the dowager stopped every few steps to exchange greetings with the other guests.

"Lady Sterling seems to know everyone here," murmured Sophia, observing yet another gentleman insist on dipping a courtly bow over the dowager's hand. "But I'm not sure this experiment of bringing me along is going to work. I don't think anyone knows me from Adam." A pause. "Or Eve."

Despite her sardonic words, the earl's scholarly friend did not go unrecognized, noted Arianna. The flicker of surrept.i.tious glances and low whispers followed their progress through the milling crowd.

"Miss Kirtland?" A sandy-haired gentleman with a saber scar cutting across his left cheek flashed a hesitant smile. "Good heavens, it is you! How nice to see you."

Sophia looked a little surprised at the warm greeting. "M-Mr. Bellis," she stammered, inclining her head a fraction. "H-how are you?"

"Oh, a little worse for wear," he said wryly, touching the puckered red slash. "But quite happy to have exchanged my sword for a plow. Father shuffled off his mortal coil last year, so I am now running the estate."

Recalling her manners, Sophia quickly made the introductions. "Lady Saybrook, this is Michael Bellis, a childhood friend from Somerset."

"I heard quite a lot about your husband during the Peninsular campaign, milady," said Bellis politely. "He was quite the hero."

"And so, it appears, were you," said Arianna, eyeing his scar.

Bellis colored. "Oh, no, not at all. I simply stumbled into the path of flying steel." Looking uncomfortable, he quickly changed the subject. "Might I engage you for the next set of dances, Miss Kirtland? George and Charles would be delighted to make their greetings, and you remember my cousin Suzanna . . ."

Arianna gave Sophia a discreet nudge to remind her of the reason they were both here.

Friend and foe-we must find a way to discern who was whom.

"Do go on," she urged. "I see Constantina waving her walking stick at me. No doubt there is another distant relative I must meet. We shall meet up again later."

The dowager was indeed tapping a summons, and for the next hour, Arianna found herself marched around the room and introduced to a select group of Society gossips.

Apparently males gabbled just as much as females, reflected Arianna, for several gentlemen were included. After dutifully dancing with several partners, she finally managed to rejoin the dowager and catch her breath.

"Lord Bertram is even a worse dancer than I am. I have several squashed toes to prove it."

"My feet are aching a bit too," replied Constantina. "So if you will excuse me, I think I will go have a seat with the Dragons . . ." She gestured to a group of turbaned matrons sitting next to a large marble urn festooned with flowers. "And catch up on the latest on-dits."

"By all means," replied Arianna. "I shall make my way to the refreshment table. My throat is parched from so much talking." The blaze of the chandeliers, the clink of crystal, the trill of laughter, the kaleidoscope of colors-all her senses were feeling a bit overworked.

How people spin through this night after night is a mystery to me-the superficiality would soon squeeze the life out of me.

"Ah, but I've a far more pressing mystery to solve," she said under her breath. She stilled her steps for a moment to watch the dancers twirl into a waltz. More and more of the faces were looking familiar . . .

A flash of scarlet caught her eye but just as quickly disappeared in a swirl of blues and greens. Shifting her gaze, she saw Sophia at the far end of the dance floor, partnered by Henry Lawrance.

Ha.

With an inward smile, Arianna edged through the crowd and positioned herself to intercept the couple as soon as the music ended.

Two can tiptoe through a dance of deception, Mr. Lawrance.

"Oh, there you are, Miss Kirtland." Arianna waited for the last trilling of the violins to fade before feigning a note of surprise. "I was hoping that I might find you."

"Lady Saybrook," acknowledged Sophia. Maintaining a mask of bland politeness, she asked, "Are you acquainted with my partner, Mr. Lawrance?"

"I don't believe we have been introduced," murmured Arianna.

"Mr. Lawrance, allow me to present the Countess of Saybrook."

"Charmed, madam." Lawrance stared for a moment before bowing to brush his lips to her hand.

Over his tousled curls, Sophia quirked an inquiring brow.

In silent answer Arianna gave a tiny nod at a shadowy recess behind an arrangement of potted palms.

"How odd that our paths have not crossed before, Lady Saybrook," he said on rising. "Being the frivolous fellow that I am, I rarely miss a party here in Mayfair, and yet I've never seen you among the guests."

"How can you be so sure?" she countered, deciding to test his sangfroid.

Lawrance leaned in a little closer. "Because I don't easily forget a beautiful lady."

"A very disarming answer." Arianna slid back a step. "Are you always so clever?"

"How should I answer that?" he asked. "If I say yes, then I appear a pompous a.s.s. And if I say no, then I appear a witless fool."

"Then perhaps it is wise to remain silent," answered Arianna coolly. "Now, if you don't mind, I wish to speak with Miss Kirtland."

Lawrance smiled but didn't budge. "Not at all."

"In private," she added, batting her lashes. "We have some feminine matters to discuss."

At that, he had no choice but to gracefully withdraw.

"Tell me, how well do you him?" asked Arianna, drawing Sophia behind the screen of swaying fronds.

"Lawrance? I've known him since we were adolescents, riding neck and leather over the hills of Somerset." Her face screwed in thought as she considered the question more carefully. "As you see, he has an easy manner and tends to play the role of careless fribble. But beneath the bon mots and bantering flirtations, I think he is a good deal sharper than he lets on." The slivered shapes of the leafy shadows made her eyes appear to narrow. "Why do you ask?"

Arianna quickly explained about the encounter at Chittenden's soiree, and her chance discovery of Lawrence's interest in aeronautics.

"You think he may be Renard?"

"I am not leaping to any conclusions yet," she replied. "However, I do think he merits careful scrutiny. Sandro is making inquiries through his contacts. Now that you are aware of our concerns, it would be helpful if you could see what information you can tease out of him."

Was that a frown flitting across Miss Kirtland's face? The uncertain light was making it difficult to gauge her reactions.

"Lawrance seems to like you," went on Arianna, "so he may be coaxed into making a slip of the tongue."

Sophia looked away. "Nonsense. We are simply familiar with each other; that is all."

"It's more than that," she pressed. "I am used to reading the subtle shifts of expressions on a man's face-at times I depended on that ability to save my life. Lawrance admires you. And though you may think me callous or conniving to suggest it, that is something a female may turn to her advantage."

"Y-you may possess that skill," said Sophia in a halting voice. "I certainly don't."

"Trust me, you have far more power than you imagine, Miss Kirtland."

"I doubt-" Sophia suddenly broke off in midsentence, the shadows accentuating the fact that in the s.p.a.ce of a heartbeat, her face had gone as pale as ashes.

"What is it?" Arianna turned to see what had caught Sophia's eye.

A tall, broad-shouldered officer in a scarlet tunic dripping with gold braid had just joined a trio of ladies standing at the edge of the dance floor, and his elaborate greeting set off a flutter of fans and a t.i.ttering of giggles.

Clearly enjoying the attention, he threw back his head and joined in the laughter.

b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l. Arianna sucked in her breath.

It was Sophia who whispered the name. "Stoughton."

"You know him?" asked Arianna.

Her companion continued to stare straight ahead in unblinking silence.