Sweet Revenge Part 25

Inwardly shaken by the encounter, Arianna signaled to a pa.s.sing footman for a gla.s.s of champagne. Being adrift in a sea of strangers only heightened her awareness of all the hidden shoals beneath the surface of London Society. The myriad faces, alight with . . .

Spotting the earl across the room, she suddenly veered away from the secluded spot behind the potted palms.

"Any shelter in a storm," she whispered under her breath. Saybrook was standing apart from the crowd with an elderly lady who, despite her advanced age, still possessed a regal beauty. It appeared that they were engaged in a private conversation.

Ah, but I am family, she thought wryly.

It would appear odd, too, if she did not pay her respects to him.

The earl looked up as she approached, his expression hovering somewhere between wariness and welcome. "You see, Aunt Constantina, I told you that our newly arrived relative would be anxious to make your acquaintance," he said dryly. "Lady Wolcott, I'm sure the dowager Marchioness of Sterling needs no introduction."

"None whatsoever," responded Arianna, picking up her cue. "It is, of course, a pleasure to finally meet you, Lady Sterling."

The dowager raised her quizzing gla.s.s to one eye, the thick lens magnifying its speculative gleam. After a long moment of scrutiny, she let the beribboned handle fall back against her bosom. "What side of the family are you from?" she inquired brusquely.

"Lady Wolcott's mother was a Peabody," interceded Saybrook smoothly.

"Hmmph." Another look, this one unaided by special optics. "I can't say that I see the resemblance."

"Such things are not always so apparent," replied the earl. Before his aunt could respond, he quickly changed the subject. "I see you have met Lord Percival Grentham, Lady Wolcott."

"Yes, and I cannot say that the experience is one I care to repeat."

"And no wonder." The dowager gave a small sniff. "These days I hear he is better known as 'Persecute' Grentham. He was not, however, such an odious man in his youth. His mother would be greatly disappointed at what a stick in the mud he has become."

"Yes, but like most of London's citizens, she would be terrified to say it aloud, for fear of being hauled off to prison on charges of sedition," quipped the earl.

Repressing a shudder, Arianna tried not to recall his cold-blooded touch. "I admit, his manner was intimidating. I shall take care to avoid him in the future."

"A wise choice," murmured Saybrook. His gaze held hers for a moment, and for some reason, the fleeting connection helped settle her nerves. There was, she admitted, something to be said for not feeling utterly alone.

"Ha, let him try to breathe fire and brimstone at me, and he will end up with his own b.u.m burned," remarked Lady Sterling.

Arianna ducked her head to hide a smile. Strange, but she felt an immediate kinship with the outspoken dowager. Which was ludicrous, considering that the only thing that had drawn them together was a web of lies.

"I don't doubt it," said the earl. "You can be quite a dragon when you so choose."

"Ungrateful boy." Lady Sterling rapped his shoulder with her fan. "You will have the poor gel more frightened of me than of Grentham."

Saybrook's jaw gave a tiny little tic, as if he were trying not to laugh. "I would guess that any relative of ours is made of sterner stuff than that."

The dowager turned her attention to Arianna. "Ignore my nephew's teasings. He can be impossibly annoying at times." She cleared her throat. "Be that as it may, he tells me you have only recently arrived in Town."

"Yes," she replied.

"Well, you must come pay me a visit if you wish any advice for how to get along in Society. Sandro will tell you that there is not a soul who knows more about the ton and its secrets than I do."

Secrets. Keeping a smile pasted in place, Arianna acknowledged the invitation. "How very kind."

"Oh, pish." Lady Sterling waved a bejeweled hand. "We are, after all, family, my dear, and family must look out for each other."

For a fleeting instant, the cacophony of the crowded ballroom was drowned out by a strange keening sound in her ears. Like the weeping of the wind on a stormtossed night.

"May I get you more champagne, Lady Wolcott?" asked the earl softly.

Arianna realized that she was gripping her gla.s.s so tightly its stem was in danger of breaking in two. "No. Thank you." All at once, the heat and noise seemed unbearable, but before she could excuse herself, Lady Sterling suddenly narrowed her gaze.

"Well, well, well. I see that Persecute isn't the only odd guest here." The dowager's attention seemed riveted on a spot to the right of the refreshment table. "Hortense is such a high stickler. I am surprised that she would invite Lady Spencer."

Sure enough, Arianna spotted her erstwhile employer deep in conversation with Gavin.

"Why do you say that?" inquired Saybrook. His tone was deceptively casual, yet his body had become more alert.

"To begin with, she is the Prince's current mistress," answered the dowager. "Or one of them. It's hard to keep a precise tally."

"If Lady Ravenell chose not to invite all the ladies who have slept with Prinny, the ballroom would be half empty," murmured the earl.

"True." Lady Sterling toyed with the ribbon of her quizzing gla.s.s. "Still, given the position that Hortense's husband holds at the Bank of England, I find it strange that she would overlook the other scandal."

Arianna noted the subtle sharpening of Saybrook's features. "What other scandal, Aunt Constantina?" he inquired softly.

"Oh, that unpleasant mess from the last century. Lady Spencer's maternal grandfather was Mr. George Carsall." The dowager waited expectantly for the earl to respond. When his only reaction was a raised brow, she heaved an impatient sigh. "For G.o.d's sake, don't they teach English history at Oxford anymore?"

He gave an apologetic shrug. "As you know, my interests lay in other studies."

"Well, much as I adore your chocolate creations, Sandro, all peers ought to pay attention to that particular subject in order to avoid repeating the mistakes of the past."

"I stand duly chastised," replied Saybrook. "Perhaps you would care to fill the hole in my knowledge?"

The dowager slanted another owlish squint at Lady Spencer. "My dear boy, Carsall was a governor of the Sword Blade Bank. Now, please don't tell me that you haven't heard of them and the South Sea Company, else I may have to resort to my smelling salts."

17.

From the chocolate notebooks of Dona Maria Castellano I've just found a wonderful colored botanical engraving of a cacao tree and fruit in one of the antiquarian bookshops. I shall have it framed for Sandro, as he will appreciate all the scientific nomenclature inscribed at the bottom. During his studies at Oxford, he was fascinated by Carolus Linnaeus, a Swedish scientist who in 1753 devised a system for cla.s.sifying all living organisms. Each has a Latin name, and chocolate is called Theobroma cacao. How fitting that Theobroma means food of the G.o.ds. . . .

Chocolate Sambuca Crinkle Cookies 1 cups all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon baking powder

teaspoon salt

12 ounces fine-quality bittersweet chocolate (not

unsweetened), chopped

stick unsalted b.u.t.ter

2 large eggs

cup walnuts, coa.r.s.ely chopped

cup sambuca or other anise-flavored liqueur

2 tablespoons granulated sugar

1 cup confectioner's sugar

1. Preheat oven to 350F.

2. Sift together flour, baking powder, and salt. Melt chocolate with b.u.t.ter in a metal bowl set over a saucepan of simmering water, stirring until smooth. Lightly whisk together eggs, walnuts, sambuca, and granulated sugar in another bowl. Stir in flour mixture and chocolate (dough will be thin). Chill, covered, until firm, about 2 hours.

3. Sift confectioner's sugar onto a plate. Roll heaping tablespoons of dough into b.a.l.l.s and roll b.a.l.l.s, as formed, in confectioner's sugar to generously coat. Arrange b.a.l.l.s 2 inches apart on 2 lightly b.u.t.tered baking sheets and bake in upper and lower thirds of oven, switching position of sheets halfway through baking, until puffed and cracked but centers are still a bit soft, 10 to 12 minutes total. Transfer to racks to cool.

Arianna sucked in an audible breath.

"Bravo, gel," said the dowager. "You appear far more educated than my nephew on the history of financial scams and scandals."

"N-not really," she stammered.

"Even I have heard of the South Sea Bubble," said Saybrook.

"I should hope so." Lady Sterling grimaced. "Thank G.o.d that my brother-your grandfather-was convinced not to invest in their stock. Anyone with a grain of sense could see that the value of the company was built on thin air."

"And yet, a great many intelligent people were blinded by greed," observed the earl.

The dowager nodded. "Aye, greed is a powerful emotion."

"That it is," whispered Arianna.

"Even so brilliant a man as Sir Isaac Newton was caught up in the trading frenzy," added Saybrook. "It's said that he lost twenty thousand pounds, and later remarked, 'I can calculate the movement of the stars, but not the madness of men.' "

"Yes, well, no matter how often the lesson is taught, it doesn't seem to sink in," remarked Lady Sterling. "People have very large appet.i.tes and very small memories."

Arianna swallowed a bitter laugh. Oh, how very true.

"Thank you for the history lecture," said the earl.

"Don't be impertinent," scolded his aunt. Turning to Arianna, she gave a brusque wave. "Go dance with my great-nephew. My mouth is now dry and my feet are aching, so I wish to sit down and enjoy a cup of negus with my friends." Patting the snowy white plumes of her headdress into place, Lady Sterling marched off to join a group of matrons seated near the entrance to the card room.

Saybrook offered his arm. "Seeing as the waltz affords a modic.u.m of privacy in which to talk, let us not waste the opportunity."

"I agree-the sooner we have a council of war, the better," murmured Arianna, once the lilting notes of the melody swept them into motion.

"Has something happened?" he asked quickly.

"Aside from having that watchdog Grentham sniffing around my skirts?" Expelling a harried sigh, she pushed aside her fears about abstract numbers to concentrate on a more real threat. "It is a good thing that plans are progressing quickly-at least on my end. The minister seems to suspect that I am not quite what I seem."

Saybrook's mouth thinned to a grim line. "It appears that he, like us, doesn't put much credence in coincidence. Apparently the timing of your arrival has set off alarm bells."