“What about Miss Kirtland?” asked Arianna. “It would seem she has earned a right to be here too.”
The minister steepled his hands in front of his face, the slivered shadow making his expression impossible to read. “Miss Kirtland needs a rather lengthy session to ensure that she understands the stricture of silence by which she is bound. However, given the more intimate understanding between ourselves”—he flashed a rather sour smile—“I thought it best to confine this gathering to just the four of us. There are things to discuss that do not concern her.”
Saybrook stretched out his legs and emitted an impatient sigh. “Then kindly get on with it. None of us got much sleep, so I hope you have roused us for an interesting reason, rather than simply to bore us with blather about the rules of state security.”
“I shall try to keep you amused, Lord Saybrook,” replied Grentham. He tapped at a dossier on his desk. “I thought you might like to hear how Renard soeur et frère managed to work so cunningly within Whitehall.”
“I have been wondering about that,” murmured Arianna. “Knowing there were two of them certainly opened up a whole new range of possibilities.”
“I am assuming that Lady Urania was secretly sleeping with one of the high-ranking gentlemen on the security committee,” said Saybrook. “Someone with access to the most privileged information.”
Grentham looked a little miffed that his thunder had been stolen. “Correct. What made it all the more clever was that Finchley was not guilty of treason, but merely of being indiscreet in bed. He had no idea he was pumped . . . in more ways than one.”
Arianna lifted a brow at the minister’s risqué remark. “Women are usually far more sophisticated about using their wiles than men give them credit for.”
The minister narrowed his eyes. “So I am learning.”
“Bloody hell, it took you long enough to figure it out,” grumbled Saybrook.
“There were layers upon layers to unpeel. I had to work my way through the suspects and examine all aspects of their lives, without them knowing. When confronted, Finchley admitted to his affair with Lady Urania and was aghast that he had played the dupe.”
“What about Canaday?” asked the earl.
“That was what made Renard’s trail so difficult to discern. As we once discussed earlier, it seemed as if the source of information was coming from two different sources. And it was. Canaday was blackmailing a senior official in the Foreign Office whose sexual preferences would have gotten him hanged here in England, if they had become public knowledge.”
Saybrook murmured a name, earning a gruff nod from Grentham.
“You knew?” asked the minister with a hard stare.
“No, it’s far easier to read between the lines when one has been handed the proper spectacles.”
Henning grunted and patted back a yawn. “And when we add to the mix that both brother and sister were accomplished chemists, with inside knowledge of the institution and its members, it’s easy to understand how they concocted yet another way to create havoc for England.”
“Indeed,” said Grentham. “With a few well-chosen friends, like Lord Reginald Sommers, they constructed a diabolical web of treachery for France. ‘Why’ is still a question that needs to be answered.”
“I think I can help you there,” said Arianna. She proceeded to repeat what the twins had told her about their family background.
“Auch, my head is starting to ache,” grumbled Henning. “Is there anything else pressing to go over before we are allowed to return to our slumbers? Seeing as the threat is finally over, can’t these prosy details be held until a later time?”
“There is something else to clarify.” Grentham turned to him. “I assume you think I lied to you about releasing your nephew.”
The surgeon answered with a wordless grunt.
“First of all, the young man put himself in danger by choosing to join a group of radical revolutionaries.”
“None of us are in the mood for such platitudes, Grentham,” snapped Saybrook. “And by the by, our government ought not force its citizens to form revolutionary groups in order to give voice to their legitimate grievances. History shows us what happens.”
“Don’t lecture me either,” retorted the minister. “You have a seat in the House of Lords. Feel free to offer your opinion on politics there.”
Arianna interrupted to forestall any further hostilities. “Do go on, sir, if you have something more to add. As Mr. Henning said, we are all tired.”
Grentham cleared his throat with a brusque cough. “The sealed packet you carried north contained my orders for the young man’s release. When my investigations here in London heightened my suspicions concerning Stoughton, I moved to have one of my local operatives inserted into the unit of prison guards. The plan was for him to spirit Mr. Henning’s nephew to safety, but Stoughton acted too quickly.”
An apology, however oblique, from the minister? Arianna arched a brow in surprise.
Saybrook’s reaction was less subtle. He made a rude sound and said, “You want us to believe that you have a heart? Ha! And pigs may fly.”
A dark flush rose to Grentham’s cheekbones, but his only retaliation was a mocking smile. “Stranger things have been spotted floating through the skies around London, Lord Saybrook. Including your wife.”
Repressing a chuckle, Arianna rose. “On that note, perhaps it’s time to bring this meeting to an end—before the two of you give rise to any more insults.”
“Just one last thing,” said Grentham. He took a small packet of papers from his desk drawer and tossed it at the earl. “I suggest you read the contents when you get home.”
“Merde,” swore Saybrook. “Now what?”
“Practicing your French? I’ll take that as a promising sign,” shot back the minister.
On second thought, Arianna wasn’t sure that she was liking Grentham’s newfound sense of humor.
“No.” The papers dropped onto the polished pearwood with a crackly thunk. “Whatever it is . . .” Saybrook took her arm rather forcefully and turned for the door. “The answer is no.”
Huffing a snort, Henning got to his feet and followed.
“Enough of murder and mayhem and recipes for treason. From now on, my wife and I intend to devote our time to the peaceful study of chocolate,” added Saybrook.
Grentham tapped his fingertips together as the portal slammed shut. “So you say now,” he murmured, eyeing the discarded packet. “But I have a feeling that along with your exotic spices and chocolate confections, you may soon be eating your words.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I’m often asked how I come up with my stories, and the simple answer is that the history of the Regency era is so fascinating that it inspires countless ideas. It was a time of great upheaval in all aspects of life—many consider it the birth of the modern world—and scientific explorations and discoveries served as powerful catalysts for change.
Though my scientific skills are rudimentary at best, I became fascinated by how much influence science had on society as a whole. The experiments of the early chemists and balloonists were followed with avid interest throughout Europe, and charismatic leaders in the field like Humphry Davy, Vincent Lunardi, and James Sadler were the Regency equivalent of modern rock stars.
It was fun to weave these real-life personages into my story, and many of the exploits described in these pages are based on true stories. (For those of you interested in reading more about science in this era, I highly recommend The Age of Wonder by Richard Holmes, a beautifully written, highly entertaining overview of the subject.) Likewise, Sir George Cayley is a real person, and his 1799 sketches of flying machines earned him the moniker of “the father of modern aeronautics.” He is credited with being the first to understand the forces of flight—weight, lift, drag, and thrust—and he design
ed the first glider to carry a man aloft.
That said, the events and the chemical concoctions that are key to the plot are pure fiction. Also, the Royal Society and Royal Institution are real (and respected) scientific organizations, but I have populated them with some unsavory characters to move the story along.
For me, writing fiction is even more fun when it has more than a grain of truth to it. It’s endlessly interesting to imagine, “What if . . .” So I hope you have enjoyed a little of the real history behind Recipe for Treason. For more fun facts and arcane trivia about the era, please visit my Web site at www.andrea penrose.com. I love to hear from readers and can be contacted at [email protected].
Recipe for Treason: A Lady Arianna Regency Mystery (Lady Arianna Hadley Mystery) Page 32