Recipe for Treason: A Lady Arianna Regency Mystery (Lady Arianna Hadley Mystery) by Andrea Penrose Page A

as I appreciate your expertise in chocolate, might you continue?”
    “Of course.” Her expression turned serious. “For the last few days, I’ve been spending time at the market, for you see, cooking provides a common ground for women.”
    “Trial by fire,” murmured the earl.
    Her mouth quirked up at the corners. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose. The point is, the locals here have come to accept me as a kindred soul, despite my strange accent. And as they don’t view my presence among them as a threat, they feel comfortable talking among themselves.”
    Saybrook steepled his fingers and placed the point beneath his chin. “Go on.”
    “I’ve made a point of taking my time in wandering through the stalls. I look at the goods for sale, I buy . . . and I listen.”
    “I take it you have heard something interesting,” said Henning.
    “Very.” Arianna moved to the door and took a quick peek into the corridor. “Perhaps we should take a walk on the strand. Seeing as Grentham arranged our quarters, there is a possibility that the walls have ears.”
    Her husband nodded. “A prudent suggestion. Baz?”
    The surgeon poured himself another measure of whisky and drank it down. “Aye. I don’t trust the minister or his lackeys farther than I can spit.” He pursed his lips. “No word yet from that gold-braided donkey’s arse about Angus?”
    Arianna bit her lip. The malt had lit a dangerous glint in Henning’s eye. For the present it was only a small spark, but it wouldn’t take much to fan it into a flame.
    “You know military bureaucracy,” counseled Saybrook. “These things often move at a snail’s pace, despite orders.”
    “We don’t even know what Grentham wrote in those fancy sealed papers,” retorted the surgeon.
    “It is not in the minister’s interest to make enemies of us,” pointed out the earl.
    “That,” said Henning darkly, “depends on what his true interests really are.”
    “Instead of spinning round and round in circles on this, let us try to move forward.” Arianna put on her coat and bonnet. “Put the arrogant Colonel Stoughton and his scarlet regimentals out of your mind. The only shade of red that ought to concern us is the cinnabar flash of a cunning fox.”
    Bundled up against the biting wind, the three of them cut across the golf course and took the footpath down to the rocky stretch of beach. The tide was ebbing, leaving pools of dark, foam-flecked water among the smooth stones. Storm clouds hovered on the horizon, ominous bands of charcoal smudging the steel gray sea.
    As they picked their way along the high-water line, Saybrook linked arms with Arianna and signaled for his friend to do the same. “I think we’re now safe enough from being overheard,” he said dryly. “Feel free to be succinct. I feel a sudden craving for hot chocolate coming on, fortified with a generous splash of rum.”
    “I shall,” she said through chattering teeth, and quickly recounted what she had overheard.
    “Girton,” mused Henning. “Just this morning Connery suggested that we add his name to our list of people who merited a closer look. Though I confess, I did not put it at the very top.”
    “I suggest you reconsider,” said Arianna.
    The surgeon looked pensive. “What—”
    Saybrook swung around, turning them all back in the direction of town. “Let us get out of the cold, before Arianna turns into a block of ice,” he counseled. “We can discuss strategy at a coffeehouse. But it seems to me that we ought act on this without delay. A late-night visit to his residence for a private audience might be in order.”
    “Aye.” Henning’s voice was muffled by the knitted scarf wound around his neck and the lower part of his face. “I’m sure that with the right encouragement we can convince him to be candid about his current activities.”
    Arianna quickened her pace. Her feet were going numb despite her sturdy half boots. “I agree. The sooner we move, the