“But—,” she began, then hesitated.
The earl fixed her with a mocking look. “You think I don’t qualify? I possess a title and wealth. As for my ability to meet her other requirements, I daresay I shall rise to the occasion.”
Arianna felt herself flush. To cover her embarrassment, she quickly said, “And starting tonight, I shall heat up my efforts to cozy up to Concord. It’s obvious that he and Lady Spencer are close. For what reason is something we need to find out.”
“You mean that you will tumble willingly into his bed?” asked Saybrook quietly.
“Yes. If need be.”
“No.” It was barely more than a whisper, but there was no mistaking the note of command.
She opened her mouth to retort, but Henning hastily intervened.
“Lady Arianna, I think what Sandro meant is, we certainly don’t expect you to, er, sacrifice your, er, virtue to ensnare these criminals.”
A laugh, bitter as bile, welled up in her throat, but Arianna forced it into a sardonic smile. “Mr. Henning, I’ve had to fend for myself since I was fifteen years old, and the West Indies are far more primitive than the fancy streets of Mayfair. I assure you, my virtue is not an issue.”
The surgeon looked uncomfortable, while Saybrook . . .
Arianna could not quite describe the earl’s expression. His dark eyes had a trick of turning opaque and allowing nothing to penetrate their depths.
“All questions of morality aside, I would suggest we try to avoid that scenario,” said Saybrook, his voice devoid of emotion. “It would place you in far too vulnerable a position. The smallest slip . . .” He shifted his injured leg. “We can assume that Concord is extremely dangerous and won’t hesitate to kill if he feels threatened.”
“You think Lady Spencer is any less dangerous for being a female?” she demanded.
Rather than reply, Saybrook turned his focus to another conundrum. “We cannot forget about Grentham, or how he fits into the puzzle.”
“I wuddna be surprised to find he is the one trying to put all these filthy pieces together,” growled Henning.
The earl seemed less certain. “I have heard that he is ruthless, but as far as I know, there are no rumors that he is corrupt.”
“Power always corrupts,” replied Henning darkly. “Besides, who else ordered a senior officer of the Blues to try to murder Lady Arianna, not to mention an under-governor of the East India Company?”
“I prefer to keep an open mind—”
A tenuous cough from the archway interrupted him. “Your pardon, milord.” One of the earl’s footmen held out a letter. “A messenger from Whitehall just delivered this. He said it was urgent.”
“Speak of the devil.” Cracking the seal, Saybrook skimmed over the contents and then looked up. “I am summoned for a meeting with the minister. As soon as possible.”
“Kellton?” asked the surgeon.
“It doesn’t say. But I would be surprised if he hasn’t heard of the death.”
“What do you plan on telling him?”
The earl shrugged. “That depends on how much he knows—or claims to know. Conversing with Lord Grentham is always a game of cat and mouse.”
Anxious to think over what she had just heard in the privacy of her own house, Arianna took up her hat and pulled it low over her brow. “I had better go and try to catch a few hours’ sleep before Lady Ravenell’s ball tonight.”
She half expected Saybrook to forbid her attendance. However, he made no response, save to reach for Henning’s glass and quaff the last swallow of brandy.
“I’ll take my leave as well.” The surgeon gathered up his vials and placed them back in his bag. “I have patients to see.”
Rather than follow him into the corridor, Arianna turned for the passageway leading to the back door.
To her surprise, the earl fell in step behind her instead of accompanying his friend. Arianna quickened her pace, hoping to slip away without any further exchange of words. She was tired, and in no mood for argument.
His hand, however, caught her sleeve, and pulled her around.
Arianna chuffed an impatient sigh. “Whatever you have to say, please make it quick.”
“This will only take a moment.”
Her heart began hammering against her ribs as he learned in closer.
“Be careful.”
“W-what?”
“Be careful,” repeated Saybrook. “I am not exaggerating when I say that the unknown enemy is diabolically dangerous. And utterly amoral. As you heard Henning say, curare is a particularly unpleasant death.”
“Why should you care about me?” Arianna knew she sounded belligerent, but couldn’t help it.
“For any number of reasons,” he went on softly. “Because you have courage and strength. Because you have passion and intelligence.” His fingertips brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “But most of all, because you don’t expect anyone to give a damn whether you live or die.”
The sting of salt burned against her eyelids. At that instant, she almost hated him for making her feel this way. Alone. Uncertain. Vulnerable.
Wrenching free of his hold, Arianna braced a hand on the storage shelf. “Well, don’t bother,” she drawled with feigned nonchalance. “Caring, that is. It’s not as if we are going to be friends for long.”
Saybrook pulled back just a fraction, and she felt the heat of his body dissipate in the still air.
“True,” he agreed amiably. “But I didn’t delay you merely to discuss personal matters, Lady Arianna. My warning was simply a prelude to a request—I want you to keep Concord and his cronies occupied tonight.”
“W-what do you mean?”
“I will also be attending Lady Ravenell’s ball.”
“But why?” blurted out Arianna.
“I wish to observe them for myself.” There was a slight pause. “And then there is Lady Spencer to cultivate.”
The thought of the earl and the widow together stirred a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach. “Yes, well, keep in mind that she is like one of those exotic plants that devours flesh-and-blood creatures that stray too close.”
“Why should you care about me?” he asked, echoing her earlier challenge.
“I don’t. That’s another fundamental difference between us. I’ve long since learned that sentimental feelings are a waste of effort.”
This time, when she turned, the earl made no move to stop her.
However, his last words swirled through the shadows, a taunting whisper just loud enough to be heard over the angry tattoo of her boots.
“Until this evening, Lady Arianna.”
“Another corpse was brought to my attention early this morning, Lord Saybrook.” Looking up from his desk, Grentham set aside the paper he had been reading and tapped his fingertips together. “I find it very disconcerting.”
“Much as I hate to upset you further, I daresay more than one person expired in London over the course of the night,” responded the earl. “Large cities are, by their nature, dangerous places. The government really ought to consider establishing a permanent professional force to police the streets.”
The tapping stopped. “I shall pass your suggestion on to the proper department. However, I didn’t summon you here to discuss the moral imperative of protecting the public.”
“I didn’t think so.”
Grentham waited for him to go on, but Saybrook merely straightened his leg and began pinching specks of dust from his trousers.
“Have you any explanation, Lord Saybrook?” asked the minister, after allowing the sartorial adjustment to go on for several moments. “For the dead body, that is, not the state of city crime.”
“Should I?” asked the earl.
“A tall man with a limp was seen near the house of the deceased sometime just before dawn.”
“Leg injuries are hardly uncommon in London. What with war veterans and occupational hazards—”
“Spare me the litany of statistics,” snapped Grentham. “I’m not interested in numbers. I’m interested in information. Which is something I’ve gotten precious little of from you.”