“I will pass on your compliments,” he said. “But much as I enjoy discussing cuisine, I would prefer that we stick to the subject.
“Very well.” Arianna buttered a thick slice of toast, and then added a dollop of strawberry preserves. “Lady Spencer liked to talk, and I encouraged it. I would prepare a serving of my special hot chocolate on most afternoons, along with a plate of her favorite almond pastries. And while she ate and drank, I asked questions about her circle of friends.”
“Why?”
“I’ve told you, my reasons are not relevant to your interests, Lord Saybrook.”
He grunted. “Go on.”
“So I learned a good many details about the Prince Regent and his current circle of fellow carousers. Suffice it to say, they are a depraved group, but Lord Concord and several of his friends in particular seem to be the leaders in a variety of vices. Lady S hinted that they are members of a secret society. I had to add a little rum to her chocolate in order to loosen her tongue, but I got her to admit that they made mention of the Hellfire Club on more than one occasion. And that she herself had participated in their rites.”
Saybrook straightened slightly in his chair.
She didn’t miss the subtle tensing of his body. “I see that’s got your attention, eh? Yes, well, given its long and sordid history, Lord Dashwood’s creation is likely the hotbed of all sorts of illicit activities.”
“Most of which are prurient sexual practices, not murder,” pointed out the earl.
“What about the dark rumors of rape and human sacrifice?”
He lifted a brow. “That was years ago. The truth is, the club is said to have died out long ago.”
“That does not mean it hasn’t been resurrected by a new group of devils,” she countered.
Saybrook tapped his fingertips together. “You seem awfully knowledgeable on this esoteric bit of history.”
“I have my reasons,” she murmured.
“Yes, yes, I know—which naturally you have no intention of sharing with me.”
“Naturally.” Taking up a fresh cup, she switched from chocolate to coffee. “You ought to ask for a slightly darker roast,” she remarked, taking a moment to sniff the aroma. “These beans are from the Blue Mountains of Jamaica, and the extra heat would caramelize the natural sweetness.”
“For a slender woman, you seem to consume a great deal of food.”
“No doubt I shall grow quite fat in my old age. But for now, I consider eating one of life’s little pleasures.”
“You know, Miss Smith, you ought to be more concerned with your neck than your stomach,” growled Saybrook.
“Irritable this morning, aren’t you? No wonder, seeing as you’ve probably put nothing in your own bread-box, save for opium.”
“I prefer a quiet, contemplative start to the day, and this constant verbal fencing is beginning to stick in my craw.” He rose abruptly, cursing as his leg buckled slightly. “I shall leave you to your meal, seeing as you seem to be taking such great delight in it.” His mouth thinned to a grim line. “Let us hope it is not your last.”
Arianna carefully put down her fork. “Does my appetite offend you?” she asked.
“No, it’s your bloody closemouthed stubbornness,” he replied through gritted teeth. “If I were you, I would be a tad more anxious to help me find the real culprit. Until I do, you remain the prime suspect.”
“I am trying to help,” she retorted. “Shall I draw up a diagram, milord?” Her knife sketched several lines in the air. “The Prince connects to his coterie of fellow reprobates. These men are linked to a secret club . . . I should think it would all be very obvious.”
“Perhaps too obvious.”
“Please sit down, Lord Saybrook. You are clearly in great discomfort.”
“That is because you, Miss Smith, are a royal pain in the arse.”
She laughed. “I’ve been called far worse.”
“I don’t doubt it.” The earl sat. “In another moment, it will be me blistering your maidenly ears.”
“Why, sir, you actually possess a sense of humor.”
He grimaced. “Rarely at this hour in the morning.”
“I may have something that will help improve your disposition. . . .”
As if in answer to her thoughts, the woman from earlier reappeared. This time, she was carrying naught but a tall glass filled with a pale green liquid and a plate with several nut-brown wafers.
“Buenos días, Elena,” began the earl, only to be cut off by a rapid-fire volley of Spanish.
His brows pinched together as he looked from the woman to Arianna and then back again. “What the devil . . .,” he muttered, trying to ward off the libation being thrust at him.
“Dio Madre, drink it,” snapped Arianna. “It’s a draught for pain,” she explained. “As a child, I was cared for by a local quimboiseur in the Caribbean. Like your grandmother, she was an expert in the healing arts, though some called her a witch.”
“You expect me to swallow this . . . this black-magic potion?”
“It’s far better than that dark drug that is rotting your innards,” she countered. “But, of course, the choice is yours.”
Elena wagged a thick finger and added her own admonition.
“Women,” muttered Saybrook. But after a slight hesitation, he drained the glass and handed it back to Elena, who graced him with a beatific smile. “There. Satisfied, Miss Smith?”
Arianna cut off a tiny slice of fruit. “It’s to my benefit that you stay alive a while longer.” She looked at Elena and raised three fingers. “Thrice a day, and it’s best taken with food.” To the earl, she added, “Your appetite will quickly return, once you start weaning yourself from the opium. You will also find that the draught lessens the effects of withdrawal.”
Still smiling, Elena placed the plate of wafers on the table and withdrew from the room.
“You don’t waste any time in turning a household upside down, Miss Smith,” grumbled Saybrook.
“Look, I thought you were anxious to solve this case,” retorted Arianna. “From what I overheard last night, time seems to be of the essence.”
He fingered the small silver fob on his watch chain. “You ought not have eavesdropped on my private conversations.”
“Yes, well, see how useful a woman with no shred of decency can be to you?” she countered. “I doubt that there are any rules that I’m not willing to break in order to get what I want.” The soft splash of coffee punctuated her words. “And trust me, milord, there are things I can do to wheedle information out of the suspects that you, for all your military skills, can’t.” She fluttered her lashes. “If you grasp my meaning.”
He stared at her, unblinking. “An interesting argument, Miss Smith. But for all your fancy verbal footwork, you still haven’t explained just how you intend to put theory into practice.”
“I was just getting to that.” Arianna pushed back from the table with a contented sigh. “Ahhhh, that was delicious,” she said, savoring the pleasant warmth radiating through her body. She had gone hungry often enough not to take it for granted. “I think much better on a full stomach.”
“Then you ought to be a veritable genius,” said Saybrook, eyeing her empty plate.
She responded by pouring the last bit of hot chocolate and nudging the cup his way. “While you are still snappish as a starved mastiff. Finish this while I talk.”
He looked about to argue, then picked up the drink and took a small sip. “Now kindly continue, before I swoon from suspense.”
Arianna smoothed at a fold in her wrapper. “I think we both agree that the person responsible for poisoning the Prince was either me or one of the guests at Lady Spencer’s party, correct?”
The earl gave a tiny nod.