Sweet Revenge lahm-1

by Andrea Penrose

  The world of illusions?

  “I can see that.” Arianna lifted her glass and set the amber liquid into a slow, spinning swirl. “But what I don’t understand is why they should want to have him murdered. They had taken their revenge—in spades, I might add. Papa’s sun had long since sunk into an ocean of rum. He posed no threat to them.” Her fingers tightened. “I am, of course, assuming that his death wasn’t a random robbery. Having inherited a little of his knack for numbers, I would say the odds of that are virtually nil.”

  “Lady Arianna,” began Saybrook.

  “However,” she said quickly, ignoring his interruption. “When I add two and two together, it becomes clear that you did not journey all the way to the West Indies simply to share a glass of planter’s punch with an old friend.”

  “Unfortunately, your arithmetic is correct,” said Ashmun with a doleful sigh. “I was never close with Richard’s new set of friends. I was living in Scotland at the time of your father’s first foray into partnership with them, else I would have tried to steer him away from any involvement. Even then, they had a reputation as being dangerous men to deal with. However, I have enough contacts within the world of commerce to have gotten wind of some disquieting information in the summer of ’05. I heard that one of the group—I am not sure who—had approached a senior clerk at Richardson, Overend and Company, which, by the by, specialized in handling discount bills of exchange for a number of banks, both here in England and abroad.”

  “What are bills of exchange?” asked Arianna.

  “They are the grease that keeps the wheels of commerce turning.” It was Saybrook who answered her question. “They facilitate the exchange of money for goods, especially over great distances or across borders.”

  Curious, she pressed for further information. “How so?”

  “Let us say the owner of a sugar plantation in Jamaica sells his crop to a merchant in Liverpool. He may go to a bank in Kingston and draw a bill of exchange against the value of the shipment, which he verifies with a bill of lading and a certificate of insurance stating the goods are indemnified against loss. In other words, he is advanced the money for the sugar cane, minus certain fees and interest, and the bank retains the bill of exchange, which is redeemed when the merchant pays on delivery of the sugar cane.”

  “I see,” she said slowly.

  “The Kingston bank may then resell the bill of exchange, or use it for collateral against other loans. The rate of exchange is where profits can be made or lost. It’s a complex variable, which depends on distance, the scarcity of goods, and a number of other factors.” The earl looked to Ashmun. “Isn’t that right?”

  “You appear well-informed on economics, Lord Saybrook.”

  “I’ve been doing some reading on the subject lately.” He slanted a quick glance at Arianna before asking, “Samuel Gurney joined Richardson, Overend and Company in 1807, did he not? And controls the firm, which is now known as Overend, Gurney and Company?”

  “Yes,” replied Ashmun. “The Gurneys are a well-known Quaker family, with powerful connections in banking circles.”

  Gurney. The name explained yet another bit of Kellton’s disjointed rant.

  But then Arianna reminded herself that for the moment it was only speculation.

  “Theory is all very well, but let us get back to your story, Lord Ashmun,” she prodded. However horrible, she needed to know the details. “I think we had better hear the rest of it.”

  “Very well,” agreed Ashmun. “I received a letter from your father hinting that he had the promise of riches—and a return to England. It seemed to me that the only possibility was a new venture with his former partners.”

  She couldn’t hold back an exasperated oath. “Bloody hell, you would think he had learned his lesson.”

  The baron’s eyes flooded with sympathy. “He wanted so desperately to bring you home to England, my dear.”

  Yet another unrealistic dream. Genius could be a blessing or a curse.

  “I sent him a long reply, trying to point out just such a thing,” went on Ashmun. “However, the more I thought about it, the more I worried that he was desperate enough to do something that he would regret.” A short exhale, hardly more than a chuff of air, emphasized the last word. “His missive made mention that a meeting to finalize the deal was set for sometime in the beginning of November. As I had some family estate affairs to settle in Jamaica myself, I decided to move up my trip in order to arrive in the West Indies before that date. I thought that I might be able to talk some sense into your father. As you know, we did meet. . . .” The baron shook his head. “In the past, he had always been willing to listen to reason.”

  “He had been drinking heavily for some years,” said Arianna.

  “I suppose that explains his error of judgment.” Another mournful sigh. “As I suspected, his so-called friends wanted him to construct a mathematical model for manipulating bills of exchange. And Richard, being sure that they needed him, sought to drive a hard bargain. He wanted a higher share of the profits than his erstwhile partners were willing to offer. I think he considered it his due for the years in exile.”

  “You were there during the negotiations.” It was more statement than question. “That is when I saw you.”

  “I was,” corroborated the baron. “And I told him he was making a grave mistake. Not only did he ignore my advice, but as the talks were breaking down, he threatened to expose their scheme if they didn’t agree to his demands. You see, this time, being as yet uninvolved, he had no reason to remain quiet. He was sure they couldn’t afford to say no.”

  “What they couldn’t afford was the chance of betrayal,” observed Saybrook. “No matter how great his mathematical skills, he had broken a sacred rule among criminals—never grass on your cohorts.”

  How strange. She hadn’t touched a drop of her drink, and yet Arianna felt that her head was swimming.

  “Lady Arianna . . . Lady Arianna . . .”

  With an effort, she shook off the sensation.

  “May I get you some sherry?” asked Ashmun in some alarm.

  “N-no, thank you.” She stiffened her spine. “I’m simply . . . fatigued. Dancing and drinking until dawn is not a life to which I am accustomed.”

  Saybrook rose. “I think we have all had enough activity for the night.”

  “Indeed, indeed.” Taking his cue, the baron levered up out of his chair. “I hope I have not make a mistake in being completely forthright with you, Arianna. I did not mean to cause you pain.”

  “It hurt far more not to know,” she said softly.

  Or did it? At the moment, Arianna felt totally numb. Her limbs must have moved by rote rather than command, for she found herself on her feet.

  “Don’t trouble yourself, Lady Arianna. I will see Ashmun out,” said Saybrook, signaling her to stay by the hearth. “And then check that the back of the house is locked up.”

  “Before I go . . .” The baron hesitated. “I have answered all your questions, but I have a great many of my own.”

  Her silence only made him more determined. “I fear that you are in some sort of trouble, Arianna,” he persisted. “Why else would you be hiding your identity? Why else would you be seeking the company of your father’s erstwhile friends? At least now, I hope you understand that they are not men who would offer you any aid.”

  Coals crackled, emitting a hiss of smoke.

  “Whatever coil you are in, I would like to help—”

  “If you wish to be of service to Lady Arianna,” interrupted Saybrook, “you will distance yourself from her, in order not to raise questions about why an old friend of Lord Morse is so interested in a young widow newly arrived in Town.”

  “That is all you will tell me?”

  “Yes,” answered the earl bluntly.

  “Lord Saybrook is right, sir,” she added. “However well-meaning, your attentions could be harmful.”

  “Then I shall, of course, do as you ask. No matter that I don
’t understand.” Ashmun gave a courtly bow. “But please know that if anything changes, and you need my assistance, you have only to let me know.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s the least I can do, seeing as I’ve failed you so miserably in the past.” He blew out his cheeks. “If only I had been more persuasive.”

  If only, if only, if only.

  “If only Papa had been more responsible,” she countered. “However, weeping over what happened won’t change anything.”

  “A wise philosophy, Lady Arianna,” said the earl. “One should look to make the future free from the ghosts of the past.”

  Close to a quarter hour passed before Saybrook returned. “The locks are all secured. Is there anything else I can do for you before I take my leave?”

  Arianna nodded abstractly, not really listening to what he was saying.

  “Lady Arianna.”

  She looked up from her contemplation of the glowing embers. The candles on the sideboard had burned down low, leaving the room shrouded in shadows.

  “Will you be all right on your own here tonight?” he asked, the gentleness of his voice rousing her from her stupor.

  “Are you offering to come upstairs and keep me company, Lord Saybrook?” she said mockingly, hating herself for feeling so vulnerable.

  The momentary change in his expression was too swift, too subtle to interpret. Or maybe she had merely imagined it. Her powers of observation were clearly not as sharp as she had thought.

  “I was not under the impression that my company would be of any comfort,” he replied slowly.

  “I’m not looking for comfort,” she retorted. “A distraction, perhaps. Nothing more.”

  “Ah. Well, I’ve enough distractions to suit me. So I think I shall decline any additional ones.” A pause. “Assuming that was what you offered.”

  The rejection, however oblique, left her feeling even more fragile. Her whole life felt as if it had been built on a house of cards. Gaudy bits of pasteboard, colored with illusions and lies.

  And a breath of air had just knocked it to flinders, leaving her with nothing to cling to.

  I have myself. And yet, somehow that didn’t seem like enough anymore.

  But unwilling to expose how lost she was feeling, Arianna curled a cynical smile. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to sleep with a slut. Bad blood clearly runs in my family, so you are right not to want to taint your exalted person.”

  His laugh held no mirth. “There are few in Society who don’t consider me a mongrel because of my breeding. For me to denigrate you or your forebearers would be like the pot calling the kettle black.”

  “Then why won’t you come to my bed?” blurted out Arianna. “Do you find me unattractive? Undesirable?”

  His dark lashes hid his eyes. “It would be wrong to take advantage of your present emotions. I would rather not let you do something that you might regret in the morning.”

  “An honorable, incorruptible gentleman,” she jeered. “I thought that species only existed in fairy tales.”

  Saybrook didn’t react with any anger, which was what she was hoping for. “I do my best to live by certain principles,” he said calmly.

  “Why should any of us care about abstract principles?” she challenged. “What does it matter? One only ends up defeated, disillusioned.”

  “Only if you let yourself turn tail and run,” said the earl.

  Arianna sucked in her breath. “I see no reason to care anymore. Let Concord and his evil cronies do as they please. It no longer matters to me.”

  “I should think you would care about justice. It is an even more compelling reason to act than revenge.”

  “Unlike you, sir, I’m not idealistic,” she retorted. “Far from it.”

  “Perhaps you will surprise yourself.”

  “How can you speak of justice? You heard the sordid facts—my father was guilty.” Her throat constricted. “Guilty.”

  “Whatever his sins, he paid the price for them,” answered Saybrook. “Don’t you wish for the others to be called to account for their own misdeeds?”

  “I . . .” Arianna was suddenly aware of the hot sting of salt against her lids. “I don’t know,” she said in a small voice.

  “A show of feminine frailty?” His brow rose in a sardonic arch. “Of all the roles you’ve played, a weak, weepy female is by far the least convincing one.”

  Crack. The impact of her hand left an angry red imprint on his cheek.

  He didn’t so much as flinch. “Feeling sorry for yourself?”

  “Yes!” she cried. “I bloody well am.”

  “So you want to give up? Crawl away and wallow in self-pity, leaving your father’s murderers free to plot yet another sordid scam?”

  She blinked.

  “If that’s what you wish, pack up your belongings and I will allow you to slip away to . . . wherever it is that you wish to go,” he finished.

  “Is that a challenge, Lord Saybrook?” muttered Arianna.

  His mouth twitched. “Of a sort.”

  Walk away and forget about everything? The idea was tempting. After all, she didn’t owe anything to anyone.

  “Though it’s understandable if you’ve lost your stomach for a fight,” said the earl. “I did warn you that in a mano a mano duel of wills, you would not come out on top.”

  “Don’t sheath your steel just yet, sir.”

  “Then come tomorrow, be ready for another round.” Saybrook moved for the doorway, but paused with his hand on the latch. “By the by, in answer to your question earlier this evening, I was approaching your town house because I thought you might be interested in knowing that Lady Spencer is as rapacious in business as she is in pleasure.” He turned slightly, setting his dark hair to dancing across his shoulders. “In addition to sleeping with Kellton, she was also making money from him, and in more ways than one.”

  He would have made an excellent actor—his sense of dramatic timing was superb.

  “H-how do you know that?” she demanded.

  “Armed with my aunt’s revelation, I decided to pay a visit to her town house after leaving the ball,” he replied.

  “But your leg—”

  “Like you, I can improvise, Lady Arianna.” He quirked a thin smile. “Your information about the hidden panel in her desk saved me a great deal of time. I was able to read through the packet of letters from Kellton before having to leave.”

  Click, click. The latch shifted slightly under his hand. “From what I could gather, she was involved in a business enterprise with Kellton, and was passing him some sort of valuable information.” His smile had turned to a frown. “Though what that information was, I am not sure.”

  Arianna felt a twinge of guilt over keeping the folder of papers she had taken from the desk to herself. But until she was more certain of its meaning . . .

  “We may never know,” went on Saybrook. “In any case, it seems that Lady Spencer knew some details of the business that had Kellton worried. So he was paying her not only a cut of the profits, but a spot of blackmail to keep quiet.”

  He thought for a moment. “I am surprised that such a clever lady is careless enough to keep written evidence in her own home, even though it is well hidden. But I suppose we should count ourselves lucky, for it seems she hasn’t yet noticed that anything has gone missing.”

  “The secret compartment is ingeniously designed, so she likely thinks there is little danger that a common thief would find it—or have any interest in mere papers,” said Arianna. “It’s easy to become overconfident—which leads to making mistakes.”

  “Very true. It’s a good reminder that we must never let down our guard.”

  An oblique warning? She didn’t need the earl’s words to know how many slips she had made over the past several weeks.

  She thought for a moment. “Perhaps you should have asked some further questions of Ashmun. He seems to know a good deal about the inner workings of English commerce.”

&n
bsp; “Yes—maybe too much.”

  “Oh, surely you don’t think . . .”

  “Let us just say that for now, I take his tale with a grain of salt,” replied Saybrook. “And I would advise that you do, too. Think on it—he may sound sincere, but there could be a more sinister explanation for all the things he knows.”

  “Lies and betrayal,” she whispered. “But of course, I’ve come to expect no less.”

  “Lies and betrayal.” Saybrook shifted his stance. “You told me when we first met that you trusted no one. I hope you haven’t had a change of heart.”

  “I don’t have a heart, sir.”

  His face remained expressionless.

  Arianna abruptly changed the subject. “How do you mean to pursue Lady Spencer? More and more, it appears she is intimately involved in whatever intrigue is going on.”

  “I’ve already taken the first steps. While you were dancing with Gavin, I was enjoying a champagne stroll along the balcony with her.”

  “I don’t think you’ll get very far,” she said bluntly. “You are not her type.”

  “Some women find that a challenge.”

  “But she knows you are conducting the government investigation on the Prince’s poisoning,” pressed Arianna. “It would be dangerous to encourage your attentions.”

  “Danger is like a drug,” replied the earl. A spark from the dying embers seemed to light a reddish gold gleam in his gaze. “It can bubble through your blood and reach down into the deepest, darkest recesses of your being, making you do wild things. Risky things.”

  “At times, you frighten me, Lord Saybrook,” she said.

  “At times I frighten myself.” He withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket and dropped it on the sideboard. “One last thing—you missed a sheet of numbers when you were riffling the lady’s desk. It looks like gibberish to me, but seeing as you mentioned tonight that you had inherited a little of your father’s skill in mathematics, perhaps you can make some sense of it.”

  19

  From the chocolate notebooks of Dona Maria Castellano