His mouth curled up at the corners. “Oh, be assured that I am tougher than I look.”
She felt her mouth go a little dry. “As am I, sir.”
Saybrook acknowledged the assertion with a small nod.
“So, do we have a deal?” asked Arianna.
“I will likely regret it, but yes, we have a deal, Miss Smith.” Picking up a piece of the chocolate, he broke off a sliver and popped it into his mouth. “Now get dressed. We must move quickly if we have any hope of making this work.”
9
Ha! I have made another scientific discovery! In 1570, chocolate was being used as a medicine in Spain. Francisco Hernandez, the royal physician to King Philip II, believed that it was beneficial, and prescribed it to reduce fevers and relieve discomfort in hot weather. I have my doubts about the effectiveness of such treatments, but I applaud his intelligence in realizing the healthful benefits of chocolate. . . .
2 cups heavy cream
10½ ounces fine-quality bittersweet chocolate (no more than 60% cacao if marked), finely chopped
1¾ cups sugar
½ cup light corn syrup
¼ cup water
¼ teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into tablespoon pieces
2 teaspoons flaky sea salt, such as Maldon
vegetable oil for greasing
1. Line bottom and sides of an 8-inch straight-sided square metal baking pan with 2 long sheets of crisscrossed parchment.
2. Bring cream just to a boil in a 1- to 1½-quart heavy saucepan over moderately high heat, then reduce heat to low and add chocolate. Let stand 1 minute, then stir until chocolate is completely melted. Remove from heat.
3. Bring sugar, corn syrup, water, and salt to a boil in a 5- to 6-quart heavy pot over moderate heat, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Boil, uncovered, without stirring but gently swirling pan occasionally, until sugar is deep golden, about 10 minutes. Tilt pan and carefully pour in chocolate mixture (mixture will bubble and steam vigorously). Continue to boil over moderate heat, stirring frequently, until mixture registers 255°F on thermometer, about 15 minutes.
4. Add butter, stirring until completely melted, then immediately pour into lined baking pan (do not scrape any caramel clinging to bottom or side of saucepan). Let caramel stand 10 minutes; then sprinkle evenly with sea salt. Cool completely in pan on a rack, about 2 hours.
5. Carefully invert caramel onto a clean, dry cutting board, then peel off parchment. Turn caramel salt side up. Lightly oil blade of a large, heavy knife and cut into 1-inch squares.
The next few days passed in a blur. Modistes, milliners, parasols, corsets . . . the list of shops to visit and things to order seemed endless. As did the long sessions with Lord Mellon and his wife, reviewing proper etiquette and the hierarchy of Polite Society.
Like any savage place, London had its own laws of the jungle.
Arianna saw nothing of Saybrook. After discreetly delivering her to his uncle’s residence and recruiting him as a reluctant ally, the earl had disappeared. Mellon was far too well-mannered to express his true feelings, but worry was writ plain on his patrician face. Did he wonder whether he was harboring a murderer in his home? Or were his fears all for the consequences his nephew would suffer if this deceit of Whitehall became known.
They would, she guessed, be dire.
Well, the earl would have to look out for himself. As for carrying out her own part of the plan, she didn’t intend to fail.
By the end of the interlude, even Mellon had been forced to concede that she learned her lessons well. Perhaps, thought Arianna sardonically, she had absorbed the essence of aristocratic bearing from her mother’s milk. She remembered Lady Anne as an ethereal beauty, surrounded by an air of absolute tranquility. The calm before the storm. Her father’s life had gone to pieces upon her death, no longer held together by his wife’s serene good sense.
Ashes to ashes. But justice could rise, like a phoenix from the burnt-out coals.
Justice. In an odd sort of way, she and the earl did have something in common, though they might define the concept in very different ways.
So, she had worked diligently during the day, and spent long hours at night plotting, planning her strategy. Lord Concord—his depravities and desires were well known to her, thanks to the loose tongue of Lady Spencer. And she planned to use that knowledge as a weapon. The swoosh of a fan, the flutter of lashes . . . blades and bullets were not the only way to slay an enemy.
As Arianna ran her hand over the fancy gowns hanging in the armoire, feeling the seductive softness of the costly silks and satins, the intricate patterns of the exquisite beading and lace, her flesh began to prickle in anticipation. The act of sliding into a new persona was by now so familiar that it felt like donning a second skin. Disguise and deception. She had been hiding her true self for so long, she wondered whether it existed anymore.
Her fingers clenched. It didn’t matter. She had waited for what felt like a lifetime to assume this role.
Let the play begin.
Gemstones sparkled in the blaze of the torchieres flanking the front door, looking like brilliant bits of colored fire against the swirl of dark velvet cloaks and black overcoats. The evening was cool, but the heat inside the crowded entrance hall was already cloying. Lush perfumes and spicy colognes mingled with the sweet scent of the roses, thickening the air so that every little breath was a tickling caress against bare skin.
Arianna quickly adjusted her shawl to cover the pebbling of gooseflesh on her arms.
She looked around, careful to mask her reaction to the sights, the sounds, the smells of her first London ball with an expression of regal indifference. No one must guess she was not at home in the splendor of Mayfair’s mansions. She was now one of them, she reminded herself.
A lady of indolent leisure. Rich. Bored. Craving a taste of excitement.
Her own emotions had no place here. All her actions must be calculated to attract, entice a certain sort of gentleman.
“Abandon hope, all ye who enter here,” said Saybrook in a sardonic murmur, while his uncle and aunt were drawn aside to greet some old friends.
“Is that meant to put me at ease?” she asked under her breath.
“God, no, simply an observation. I can’t imagine anything putting your nerves on edge. Certainly not a gathering of rich, overfed aristocrats.”
She laughed. “You, at least, appear the better for taking some nourishment. I trust that Bianca and Elena have been feeding you chocolate.”
His mouth quirked. “Stuffing me like a pig.”
“There’s an old adage about casting pearls before swine.” She noted that his evening clothes seemed close to fitting his lanky frame.
“Ah, you flatter me, Lady Wolcott,” he murmured. Arianna had chosen her mother’s middle name to use as her nom de guerre. “Though allow me to point out that most people will take such frankness amiss.”
“I know what is expected of me,” answered Arianna in a low whisper. “I shall not disappoint.”
She could feel the curious stares as the earl handed her cloak to one of the porters. Her gown, fashioned from shimmering sea-green watered silk, was expertly cut to accentuate every subtle feminine curve.