Sweet Revenge (38 page)

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Authors: Andrea Penrose

BOOK: Sweet Revenge
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And the Devil does not have to shrivel a man’s soul. It all comes down to choices.
She clenched her jaw, refusing to reply with aught but a stony stare.
Gavin fished a rolled length of chamois from his coat pocket and dropped it on the table. The muffled chink of metal sounded as it thudded against the wood. “I told you that she would not—”
A sharp look from Cockburn warned him to silence. With a shrug, he retreated a step and folded his arms across his chest.
“Forgive my colleague.” Cockburn sat and carefully pinched the pleats of his trousers into place, the very picture of gentlemanly refinement. “He forgets his manners at times.”
Arianna quelled the urge to laugh at the absurdity.
“How to begin . . .,” he said, fingering his smoothly shaven chin. “I knew your father quite well. A delightful man, and quite brilliant.” A rustle of wool. “Though not without his faults.”
“I’m aware of my father’s personality,” she replied. “Kindly get to the point.”
“Very well.” A pause. “The point is
you
, Lady Arianna.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”
The marquess folded his hands on the table. “We have a business proposition for you.”
Business?
The absurdity had now twisted into utter madness. “Wait—you still have not explained how you discovered my real identity.”
Cockburn and Gavin exchanged a quick look.
It was Gavin who answered, his tone nonchalant. “I met with your father when I was passing through Jamaica shortly before his unfortunate death. He pointed you out to me from afar.” A smile curled on his lips. “He was very proud of you, but very protective. He didn’t wish for you to be exposed to his old friends.”
How very like Papa, to think of shutting the barn door when the horses had long ago galloped away.
“So when I saw you in Lady Battell’s ballroom, I recognized you immediately,” continued Gavin. “And immediately thought that as a stroke of luck had brought us together, why not profit from it?”
“I have no idea what you mean,” she replied.
“Oh, come, there is no reason to play coy with us,” interjected Cockburn. “We worked with your father on a few deals in the past. Why not take his place, so to speak? We are putting together a business enterprise—a highly profitable one—that could make use of your talents.” He settled himself more comfortably in his chair. “Mathematical geniuses are, as you undoubtedly know, scarce as hen’s teeth. We had a perfect man for the job. He did an impressive job on the preliminary papers. But alas, we recently learned that the ship bringing him from Denmark for the next round of work foundered in a Baltic storm.
“It was distressing news, for you see, timing is critical. Our foreign partner is demanding a further sample of how the numbers can be made to yield fabulous profits before making a final commitment, and it so happens that we promised him a special formula for how to shave an extra profit from the sale of every share of stock,” continued Gavin. “The deal was in danger of falling through. Until I thought of you.”
Her head began to swim. “
You
thought of me? From all that my father said, I—I always assumed that Concord, and his friend Hamilton, were behind all the business schemes.”
“Concord and Hamilton?” Gavin gave a nasty laugh. “Neither had the brains nor the vision to be a real leader. Yes, they and your father did some deals together. But they were only small-scale swindles.”
Arianna found herself longing for Saybrook’s calming presence. Her hands were beginning to tremble with uncontrolled emotion.
Steady, steady.

So you see, my dear,” said Cockburn, “we’re offering you an extraordinary opportunity.”
Clasping her fingers together in her lap, she squeezed out a terse reply. “I’m not interested.”
“No?” Cockburn’s genial smile faded. “Pray, why not?”
“Because I know what sort of deals my father was involved in, and I have no desire to repeat his mistakes in life.”
I make enough of my own,
she added silently.
“We could make you a very rich lady,” said Gavin.
“You are forgetting that I am already a rich widow.”
“Are you?” he countered. “I don’t think so. But whatever game you are playing with the
ton
, be assured that ours will make you far more blunt.”
She watched the patterns of shadow and light dance over the rough-hewn rock. “What makes you think that I have inherited my father’s knack for numbers?”
“Because even before he left England, Richard used to wax poetic about how his little daughter was more of a genius than he was,” answered Cockburn.
Her throat tightened, as if an unseen hand was gripping her flesh.
“A wizard,” went on the marquess. “With a magical ability to make mathematics do her bidding.”
Somehow she managed to keep her voice level. “If you knew my father as well as you claim, then you are aware that he often distorted the truth. He was, in a word, a liar. A charming one, to be sure, but a liar nonetheless.”
Her words stirred a flicker of uncertainty in Cockburn’s eyes.
Gavin, however, responded with a snarl. “It is
you
who are lying, Lady Arianna. Your family cook in Jamaica has regaled me with stories of you cleverness—”
“Philip,”
cautioned Cockburn.
She was suddenly tired of all the deceptions, weary of all the lies. What did it matter? For once, she would simply be herself. “Regardless of whether I possess my father’s talents for mathematics, I will not use them to help you.”
“Why, you haven’t even heard our offer,” said Cockburn.
“It’s not the money, it’s the principle,” she said slowly, the statement surprising her as much as it did them. “What you are asking is . . . evil.”
“Who do these financial manipulations really hurt?” asked Cockburn quickly.
Good God, he sounded as if he actually believed his own drivel.
“Yes, we will profit handsomely,” said the marquess. “But so will a lot of other people.”
Her mouth curled in contempt. “Ask that question of Concord.”
Gavin shifted his stance. “Concord made the fatal mistake of prying too deeply into our affairs. We had cut him into the business of distributing Devil’s Delight because of his connections with the gaming hells in London, but he was greedy. He suspected we had bigger plans, and issued an ultimatum earlier today.” He flicked his wrist, as if swatting at a fly. “In doing so, he became a liability and forced us to move more quickly than we would have liked.”
“So we improvised,” interjected Cockburn. “An ability that is the key to any successful endeavor.”
“Concord was stupid,” went on Gavin. “I had hoped that you would be smarter.”
“What are you going to do? Stick a knife in my heart, too?”
His expression might well have been carved out of the surrounding stone for all the emotion that it showed. “It would be foolish on your part to let it come to that.”
“Two bodies in one night?” she said. “Even you might have difficulty explaining that away.”
“Not at all,” he shot back. “Everyone saw you go off with Concord. I will simply claim that I saw you kill him and followed in pursuit as you fled the scene. That you put up a fight, forcing me to defend myself, won’t be questioned.”
True.
Her mouth went a little dry, but she managed to keep her voice level. “I won’t help you. And there is nothing you can do to convince me otherwise.”
“Nothing?” With a low laugh, Gavin slowly unrolled the chamois, revealing a set of slim steel scalpels.
In spite of her resolve, her heart kicked up and thudded against her ribs.
“We shall see about that.”
24
From the chocolate notebooks of Dona Maria Castellano
What a pity that between the dangers of war and the achings of my old bones, travel is such a daunting endeavor for me to contemplate these days. I should very much like to visit Paris, where I hear that a physician by the name of Sulpice Debauve, who served as pharmacist to King Louis XVI, has just opened a shop at 4 Faubourg Saint-Germain that sells edible chocolate! I must write to Sandro right away and tell him about this marvelous idea. . . .
Mexican Turtle Chocolate Mink
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into pieces, plus
additional for greasing ramekins
3 ounces bittersweet chocolate (not unsweetened), chopped
1 large egg, separated
pinch of salt
⅛ teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 tablespoon sugar
4 tablespoons cajeta (Mexican caramel)
4 tablespoons pecans, toasted and chopped
1. Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 350°F. Butter 2 oven-safe bowls or ramekins.
2. Melt butter and chocolate in heavy saucepan over very low heat, stirring until smooth. Remove from heat and cool, stirring occasionally, 5 minutes. Whisk in egg yolk, salt, and ground cinnamon until combined. Beat egg white in a bowl with an electric mixer at medium-high speed until it holds soft peaks. Gradually add sugar, and continue to beat until white just holds stiff, glossy peaks. Whisk one-fourth of white into chocolate mixture to lighten, then fold remaining white gently but thoroughly.
3. Divide batter between bowls or ramekins. Cover each bowl with small squares of foil and crimp foil tightly around rim. Place a baking dish in oven and pour hot water (easiest with a teakettle) into dish. Carefully place ramekins into baking dish. Make sure foil is above water. Bake until puddings are set, about 30 minutes. The desserts will be slightly gooey to the touch.
4. Transfer bowls to a rack and cool puddings, uncovered, about 1 hour. Just before serving, unmold puddings into serving bowls or onto a plate. First, unmold desserts by taking a knife and running it along the edge of the ramekin. Second, place ramekins into a bowl with hot water for about 15 seconds. Turn ramekin upside down and tap bottom. Top each pudding with 2 tablespoons of cajeta and 2 tablespoons of the pecans.
E
dging around the abandoned curricle, Saybrook peered through the wisps of fog. There was no sign of light, no stir of movement on the footpath up ahead. And beyond the dark archway, the hillside stood deathly still, the vague shapes of stone and foliage cloaked in a silvery shroud of vapor.
“Davy?” he whispered.
Leaves rustled as a figure emerged from the nearby bushes. “Here, sor.”
“Good work with the lantern,” murmured the earl. “The beacon proved easy to spot from afar.”
The sailor bobbed his head. “The gent took the lady up through them gardens. Another cove was waiting at the entrance te some sort of tunnel. I thought it best te come back here and wait te tell you, rather than follow them inside.”
“The right choice.” Saybrook gave another glance into the gloom. “Stay here and wait for Henning and the others to arrive. Then bring them along.” He checked his pockets for the oilskin pouch of lucifers. While he dared not relight the lantern, the phosphorous matchsticks would provide an occasional flame. “Remind Henning to move quickly but quietly—we must take them by surprise.”
 
In a quicksilver flash, a thin blade cut through the gloom.
“I spent some time in India several years ago,” said Gavin. “An interesting culture.” Back and forth, back and forth, the point teased through the air just inches from her nose. “They have honed the art of extracting information from their enemies to a fine art.”
Arianna dropped her gaze to the floor, unwilling to let him see her fear.
That must be how he knew Kellton,
she thought, concentrating on collecting the facts to keep herself calm.
“Don’t be a fool, Lady Arianna,” urged Cockburn. “We just need you to work out a stock offering template to show to our partner.” He picked up the closest pile of papers. “Why don’t you have a look before making a decision you will likely regret? We will pay you very well for your work.”
“And if I do, you will let me go free?” she asked.
“But of course,” replied Cockburn smoothly. “As I said, we are civilized gentlemen. Violence is only a means of last resort.”
“Oh, yes, how very,
very
civilized,” said Arianna.
Strip away the fancy title and tailoring and all that would be left is dung in silk stockings.
Gavin shot out a hand and seized her throat. “Mind your tongue, bitch, or I’ll cut it out.”
“Philip!”
cried Cockburn.
The fingers slowly released.
“As you see, Lady Arianna, my partner is on edge. It would be best if you didn’t trifle with us.”
She sucked in a raw breath.
“She’s just like her father,” muttered Gavin. “Too bloody stubborn to see reason.”
Oh, no.
A sudden thought uncoiled like a serpent in her gut.

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