Sweet Revenge Part 17

Saybrook lifted a brow. "You've been swathed in expensive silks and satins, and introduced to the creme de la creme of Society. On the day after tomorrow you move into your own s.p.a.cious town house, complete with a retinue of servants. So do forgive me if I fail to see how you have been left holding the short end of the stick."

"I was referring to information, sir," she said. "You aren't any more eager to share your secrets than I am."

He picked up a stray almond and absently popped it into his mouth. "It seems that past experience has taught both of us to be wary."

"Have you a fresh reason to fear?" she asked, not really expecting a serious answer.

"Perhaps." Saybrook gathered up a few more nuts and arranged them in a neat row before going on. "I paid a visit to my friend Henning earlier this evening, and learned that Lord Grentham is sending someone to have a look at Crandall's body-even it if means exhuming the corpse."

Arianna felt the color drain from her face. "Good G.o.d, how did your friend hear about that?"

"The minister is not the only one with a network of informers," answered the earl. "Henning provides a great service for those who could not otherwise afford medical treatment. In return they keep him informed of what is going on in Town."

Despite the warmth of the kitchen, a chill skated down her spine. "H-how will that affect us?" she asked-then quickly corrected herself. "I mean me. Will they guess it was murder?"

"Hard to say. Henning is very skilled with repairing flesh, and the body is, to put it delicately, losing its ability to tell a clear story." The earl appeared engrossed in reordering the almonds. "That people do not take kindly to having their graveyards despoiled by resurrectionists also works in our favor. Word has been sent. Grentham's man may not find his task an easy one."

The knot inside her belly relaxed somewhat. "Thank you."

Saybrook looked up through his lashes, the momentary spark of topaz mirroring the exact hue of the caramelized sugar. "There are some benefits of working together, Lady Arianna. When you are surrounded by danger, it is not a bad thing to have a comrade in arms watching your a.r.s.e. Unless, of course, you have eyes in the back of your head."

Perhaps. Arianna acknowledged the observation with a slight nod. And yet, she thought cynically, in her experience when a man was watching her a.r.s.e, it was not for altruistic reasons.

The earl let the silence stretch out a moment longer before adding, "But of course, you are certain that you can look out for yourself."

The aroma of the baking chocolate-sweet, seductive-wafted up from the oven. Trust. It was a tantalizing notion to lower her guard just a little, realized Arianna.

A flare of light illuminated his profile, and she saw more clearly the tiny lines of tension etched around his mouth. Something else was upsetting him. A sixth sense, a finely honed instinct of self-preservation, allowed her to pick up on a person's inner conflict. Weakness could often be turned into a weapon.

"Grentham did more than threaten to exhume the body, didn't he?" she asked.

Arianna couldn't quite describe it in words, but as Saybrook turned, his expression hardened. The change was subtle, but in that split second, his face became a mask that might well have been sculpted out of hard, cold stone.

"It's none of your concern, Lady Arianna."

"Did he threaten your family?" she prodded.

"Enough," he said softly.

"Or perhaps you have siblings?"

A faint ridge of color darkened his cheekbones. "You wish to initiate a conversation on family genealogy?" he asked. "By all means. That should prove a very interesting topic."

"Very well, let us not open Pandora's Box, as it were."

His response was a gruff growl. "G.o.d only knows what other secrets you are keeping locked away in a dark place."

"I had better check the cake," she said, turning abruptly and taking up a chamois cloth to protect her hand. "Overcooking will ruin it."

"And it would be a great pity to waste all our cooperative efforts," murmured Saybrook.

Arianna didn't reply. Setting the hot iron pan on a trivet, she nudged it to the center of the worktable and dipped a fork into its center. The tines came away with a slight coating of the batter.

"Not bad," she mused, taking a moment to taste the medley of spices. "But naturally, it must cool for a bit before any final judgment can be made."

"You are cruel and heartless, Lady Arianna."

"Yes," she agreed. "I am."

Saybrook rose and went to pour himself another brandy. He returned with a gla.s.s for her. "a su salud." The liquid swirl spun from pale gold to fiery bronze as he raised his drink in salute.

Arianna couldn't help but remark the odd twinkle in his eye. In spite of her resolve to remain at odds with him, she smiled. "Yes, I suppose we should toast to the fact that we are still alive."

"Ah, as the Roman emperors said-eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow you die." The earl quaffed a long swallow of the brandy. He seemed to be sinking into an even more strangely reflective mood. Or perhaps he was simply getting a little drunk. "Though I prefer the phrase carpe diem. It sounds so much more elegant."

"However you dress up the sentiment, the meaning remains the same. In truth, I think Thomas Hobbes said it best-the life of man is solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short."

"You have studied political philosophy?"

"No, Lord Saybrook, I have studied the everyday realities of life in the streets, not some fancy leather-bound book."

"The two are not always at odds with each other."

She slowly sipped her brandy while mulling over his meaning.

The earl, too, seemed lost in his own thoughts. It wasn't until his gla.s.s was empty that he spoke again. "I do not normally give in to my baser appet.i.tes, Lady Arianna, however, I find my willpower weakening in the face of that sinful-looking confection."

"I think we may go ahead and test it." Cutting two thin slices, she placed them on a plate and pushed it toward him. "You ought to have the first taste of your grandmother's recipe."

He broke off a small piece and took an experimental bite.

"Well?"

"Excellent. The flavor of the nuts is a nice complement to the smokiness of the trinitario beans." The earl took another morsel and chewed thoughtfully. "I'm also thinking that the addition of sultanas would make for an interesting contrast of textures. What is your opinion?"

She took a taste. "Hmmm . . . yes, the softness of dried fruit would be a good counterpoint to the crunchiness of the almonds." Her tongue began to tingle. "Sweet and salty . . . I like the combination. It's unexpected."

"Layers of complexity add interest to food," he murmured.

Arianna let the last of the chocolate melt in her mouth. She meant to remain distant, detached, but the seductive warmth of the brandy, the sugar, and the mellifluous sound of his voice nibbled away at her resolve.

"Does the phrase Fay ce que vouldras have any significance to you?" she suddenly said.

The earl's expression didn't change but she sensed that he was suddenly on full alert. "Why do you ask?"

She considered a lie, but then decided against it. "Sorry. I can't tell you that right now."

"You know, trust is an essential ingredient in any successful partnership."

"We are not partners," she pointed out.

"Yes, and your stubborn refusal to consider it is likely to land both of us in the fire." His fist suddenly smacked the table, rattling the dishes. "d.a.m.n it all, Lady Arianna, against all common sense, I have shown some faith in you."

True. Arianna stared down at her half-eaten cake. It was hard to swallow her misgivings. But she did need his help, so she decided that it wouldn't hurt to feed him a crumb or two.

"The morning after the Prince was poisoned, I decided to do a little snooping in Lady Spencer's study. I found a medallion hidden behind a false panel in her escritoire. It had those words engraved on it."

His jaw unclenched. "Thank you."

"Have you any idea what it might mean?" she asked.

"As a matter of fact, yes."

Arianna waited.

"But I need to make a few inquiries before I explain."

It was her turn to express outrage. "I should have known better than to think you would be fair-"

Saybrook touched a finger to her lips. "Must you always a.s.sume the worst?"

As if there was any other choice.

"Your anger is always so quick to boil over. As a chef, you should know that a judicious application of heat yields far better results."

"I don't need a cooking lesson," she muttered. "I know my way around a stove, milord."

"You are about to step out of the kitchen and into a world where the flames are far more dangerous."

Arianna's low laugh sent a ripple of lantern light dancing across the tabletop. "I've been to some h.e.l.lholes that would make the devil's hair curl, sir. Nothing in London can hold a candle to them."

"Don't bet on it," he growled.

They locked eyes, and the air seemed to echo with the silent clash of steel on steel. Neither of them seemed willing to yield an inch.

And then, to her surprise, the earl suddenly sheathed his sword. "Christ Almighty, I suppose if I don't tell you something, you'll get yourself into trouble by charging in where angels should fear to tread."

"I'm no angel," she said, tentatively accepting the truce.

"True. If I had to compare you to any heavenly body, it would be one of the figures from ancient mythology-an Avenging Fury, or the G.o.ddess of Revenge." Saybrook thought for a moment. "There must be one, though the name eludes me at the moment."

"Nemesis," she whispered. "It derives from the Greek word , which means 'to give what is due.' Or, more simply, divine retribution."

"With you as the self-appointed Almighty?"

When she didn't answer, the earl slowly spun his empty gla.s.s through several rotations. "You made mention of the h.e.l.lfire Club that first morning at my uncle's town house."

"Yes, and you dismissed it as a harmless ghost story from the past."

"So I did. But that phrase you just recited, Fay ce que vouldras, was the motto of the original members." He hesitated, as if carefully choosing his next words. "For you see, those gentlemen considered themselves above any moral restraints."

"Do what you please," said Arianna.

"Just so." He took a deep breath. "As I told you then, the embers were said to have been stamped out long ago. However . . ."

"You think they may have come back to life?"

"I don't know," admitted Saybrook. "I will need to poke my nose into a few more deep, disgusting holes in order to answer that."

Recalling the flicker of the burnished gold, Arianna added, "I suppose I should also mention that there were a handful of the medallions. I took one of them with me."

"I would like to see it, if you don't mind."

"Very well." In for a penny, in for a pound. "I'll fetch it from my room."

She returned shortly and handed the medallion to him. As for the letter and the other items, she had decided to keep that information to herself. It was always wise to have bargaining chips in reserve.

Saybrook studied it for a long moment. "May I keep this for a while?"

She nodded.

His lashes lifted, yet his eyes remained shrouded in shadow. "In the meantime, bear in mind that men who consider themselves superior to ordinary mortals are very dangerous. You may think yourself tough as nails, Lady Arianna, but if they perceive you as a threat to their interests, these self-styled Lucifers won't hesitate for a heartbeat to hammer your coffin shut."

Her skin began to p.r.i.c.kle. "You are beginning to sound like one of those gothic novels from the last century. Next you'll be telling me about deep, dark dungeons and underground torture chambers." She dismissed the idea with a sardonic smile. "Sorry, but I don't frighten easily."

"You should," he replied gruffly. "Even in your wildest dreams, I doubt you've imagined the real evil that man can do to his fellow beings."

Her mind was suddenly awash in a flood of memories-the feel of blood, the taste of fear, the roar of fury, the look of l.u.s.t. . . .

"It's late," she muttered, collecting the knives and plates. "And I'm tired."

The earl rose and draped his caped coat over his shoulders. "Let us both get some sleep. And don't forget, I'll expect a full report after the party."

"Or?" she couldn't help asking.

"Or not only will you have to answer to the Devil, Lady Arianna. You will have to answer to me."

12.

From the chocolate notebooks of Dona Maria Castellano As we all know, the Italians take the art of life very seriously. So it doesn't surprise me to learn that Francesco Redi, the personal physician to Cosimo III and one of the leading scientists of his day, spent time experimenting with the creation of decadent recipes for chocolate. Some of his concoctions included drinks perfumed with ambergris, musk, and jasmine. I don't think they would be to my taste. . . .

Banana Chocolate Walnut Cake 2 cups all-purpose flour