Arianna swallowed a sarcastic retort. He was right, and she was pragmatic enough to admit it.

"Very well," she replied. "But I also have some demands of my own."

A tiny nod signaled that she should go on.

"I need the freedom of having my own residence. These men must perceive me as independent of you and your family as quickly as possible."

Saybrook considered the matter for a long moment before replying. "I'll arrange it. Along with a staff, of course."

"And a carriage," added Arianna, taking some small pleasure in seeing his mouth thin. "Am I putting a pinch in your purse, milord?"

"Does justice have a price?" he countered.

"Of course it does. The only real question is whether one is willing to pay it."

"You've a jaded view of life for someone so young," replied the earl slowly. "I wonder why."

"Why?" echoed Arianna. "Because I've seen enough of human nature to know the difference between fairy tales and reality." She paused. "I trust you aren't going to insult my intelligence by trying to convince me that the world is filled with sweetness and light."

It may have been a quirk of the flame, but his eyes seemed to fill with shadows. "No, I'm not. But nor am I going to cede victory to bitterness and blackness so easily. Good can occasionally triumph over evil."

"Dear G.o.d, your grandmother must have read you a few too many bedtime tales of heroic knights slaying dragons." Her lip curled. "Or rescuing damsels in distress."

The barb didn't draw blood. He looked at her thoughtfully before asking, "And you, madam-what stories were read to you at night?"

Arianna felt her chest constrict. Looking away, she drew in a gulp of air, forcing her muscles to relax. "Let us not waste time indulging in childhood memories, Lord Saybrook." Don't look back. She had learned early on that to survive, one must focus on what lay ahead.

"We've still a number of practical matters to work out. You wish a daily report, and yet we can't be seen together. Committing any information to paper would be unwise-"

"Thank you for the primer on what won't work," interrupted the earl. "However, I am surprised that you, with your creative mind, are overlooking the obvious answer."

She frowned.

"Given your experience in appearing as a man, it should be simple for a street urchin to slip through the streets in the dark of night and enter my gardens."

"I shall likely be busy most nights," Arianna reminded him.

"Improvise, madam. It's something at which you excel." His voice held an undertone of amus.e.m.e.nt, but it quickly died away. "Make no mistake-we shall both need to be ready to react to the unexpected. Else we haven't a s...o...b..ll's chance in h.e.l.l of solving this case."

h.e.l.l. Arianna closed her eyes for an instant, recalling a ramshackle room . . . the shriek of the wind . . . her scarlet-stained hands. . . .

"h.e.l.l," she said aloud. "Like you, sir, I've been there and back, so I'm not afraid of doing whatever it takes to catch the real culprit."

"How fortuitous that we have met, madam." The earl eased his big body back against the seat. "For neither am I."

"Well, then, it should be interesting to see which one of us is most impervious to the devil's fire."

10.

From the chocolate notebooks of Dona Maria Castellano It seems that the Church continued to debate the use of chocolate. By the beginning of the seventeenth century there was a great debate on whether it should be considered a food or a drink. The distinction was important because of the many fast days. The richness of chocolate helped ease hunger pangs, so the stricter clergy frowned on its use. However, the Pope ruled that because it was taken in liquid form, it was permissible. . . .

Fudgy Coffee Brownies 2 sticks ( pound) unsalted b.u.t.ter

5 ounces unsweetened chocolate

2 tablespoons instant espresso powder

2 cups sugar

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

5 large eggs

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon cinnamon

teaspoon salt

1. Preheat oven to 350F with rack in middle. b.u.t.ter and flour a 13-by-9-inch baking pan.

2. Melt b.u.t.ter and chocolate with espresso powder in a 3-quart heavy saucepan over low heat, whisking until smooth. Remove from heat and cool to lukewarm. Whisk in sugar and vanilla. Whisk in eggs 1 at a time until mixture is glossy and smooth.

3. Whisk together flour, cinnamon, and salt, then whisk into chocolate mixture.

4. Spread batter in pan and bake until a wooden pick inserted in center comes out with crumbs adhering, 25 to 30 minutes. Cool completely before cutting.

An elderly butler-even more elderly than the frail figure seated by the tall mullioned windows-led the earl into the sun-dappled morning room. "Your nephew, milady," he announced in a reedy voice. "Who a.s.sures me that you won't mind receiving a visit this early in the day."

"You are looking well, Aunt Constantina," murmured Saybrook, bending to plant a kiss on the lady's cheek.

"Hmmph. I wish I could say the same for you." The dowager Marchioness of Sterling set aside the newspaper and waved a frail finger at an armchair facing hers. Although her wrinkled skin was pale as aged parchment, and her auburn hair had faded to a silvery gray, the signs of encroaching age had not diminished her regal bearing. She still appeared a force to be reckoned with.

"Don't stand on ceremony with me, young man," she ordered. "Sit, before you fall on your culo.

"I wasn't aware that a lady of your rank would know such a vulgar word," said the earl, settling his aforementioned a.r.s.e on the brocade pillows. "Much less say it aloud."

"I've acc.u.mulated a great deal of knowledge over my many years." She paused to ring for tea. "And see no reason not to express it."

"I was hoping as much."

Lady Sterling's pale gray eyes immediately looked more alert. "Does that mean your visit is not simply about making amends for your shocking neglect of your elderly great-aunt?"

"My favorite elderly great-aunt," amended Saybrook.

She gave a snort. "Your only elderly great-aunt."

"I did bring a little something to make up for my shameful neglect." He drew a small pasteboard box from his pocket.

"My taste runs to sapphires these days," quipped the dowager.

Leaning forward, he placed it in her lap. "I shall leave the jewels to your other suitors. I think you'll find these even more delicious."

The dowager opened the package and gingerly picked up a b.u.t.tery brown cube dusted with cocoa powder. "Pray, what is it?"

"Chocolate. Go ahead-taste it."

Her brows rose a notch higher. "My dear boy, I wasn't born yesterday. If you wish to play puerile pranks on someone, please poison someone younger. My const.i.tution is far too delicate to survive a mouthful of mud."

Saybrook laughed. "What fustian! You are hearty as a horse. And given your fondness for confections, you will be missing a rare treat if you refuse to be adventurous."

After a long look, she gave an experimental nibble. "Mmmm." The rest of the morsel disappeared in a flash and the purr turned into a sigh. "Edible chocolate! Lud, how divine. Is this something you discovered in your grandmother's journals?"

"The journals hold a number of fascinating secrets," he replied obliquely. "But speaking of stories . . ."

Lady Sterling popped another piece of chocolate into her mouth. "Very well, now that you have sweetened me up, you may go ahead and tell me the real reason for your visit."

"I am hoping that your memory is as sharp as your sense of humor, Aunt Constantina. For I need help in unearthing some information from the past." The earl shifted his outstretched leg. "You have always kept au courant with the gossip in Town. Do you recall an old scandal in which a gentleman of the ton was forced to emigrate to the West Indies?"

"More than a few," she replied dryly. "Jamaica and Barbados have long been popular spots for disposing of wayward sons. Can you be more specific?"

Saybrook made a face. "Not really. I would say we are talking about something that happened between ten and fifteen years ago, but that's merely a guess. The only thing I know for sure is that the gentleman involved had a young daughter who accompanied him to the islands."

"Hmmm." Looking pensive, the dowager fingered the rope of pearls resting at her bodice. "Why do you want to know?"

"I would rather you didn't ask."

"A romantic interest?" she pressed, looking hopeful.

He shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint you but it's nothing personal. I'm merely interested in solving a mystery, and if I could put a name to my conjecture, it would be extremely . . . useful."

"Let me think about it for a bit." A sigh, almost imperceptible, fluttered between them. "I can also pay a call on Lady Octavia Marquand. When it comes to peccadilloes of the peerage, she puts even my knowledge to blush."

"A frightening thought," observed Saybrook. He waited for the maid to place the tea tray on the table and leave the room before going on. "In all seriousness, Aunt Constantina, you must be absolutely discreet about making any inquiries. Not a soul must guess that you are trying to uncover information on a member of the ton."

Light winked off her spectacles. "Does this have anything to do with your military activities in the Peninsula?" She leaned forward. "Are you still a spy?"

"I'm simply an invalid, with far too much idle time on my hands," he replied.

A wisp of steam floated up as she filled two cups. "And pigs have suddenly sprouted wings and can fly rings around the moon."

"Can they?" he replied without batting an eye. "Then perhaps the War Office ought to think of forming an aerial brigade to bombard Bonaparte's army as they march east. G.o.d knows, the Russian tsar could use some help from Above to keep the French from invading his country."

The dowager emitted a low snort. "A clever try, but diversionary tactics won't work on me, dear boy." She wagged a finger. "For heaven's sake, Sandro, I am very good at keeping a secret."

"If I didn't believe that, I wouldn't be here," he said quietly. "However, the less you know, the better."

"You mean to say it might be dangerous?" she demanded.

He stirred a lump of sugar into his tea. "Yes. So you must be very careful. G.o.d knows, I've enough on my conscience without drawing you into harm's way. But time is of the essence, so I must set aside my personal scruples."

"Don't worry about me, Sandro. I've a lifetime of experience in navigating through the shoals and crosscurrents of the ton," replied Lady Sterling. "I'm more concerned about you. The waters can be very treacherous for those who are unfamiliar with the shifting tides and hidden whirlpools."

"I'm a strong swimmer, Aunt Constantina."

"So are the sharks, Sandro. And they are quick to scent even a single drop of blood in the water."