Andrea Penrose - The Cocoa Conspiracy

“Speaking of which, I see that Major Lowell is about to kick up a dust with Rochemont, so I had better go intervene.” He made a face. “Why is it that military men—my nephew excepted—have so little tact?”

“Because rather than mincing around with words, as we do, they are used to slashing their opponents with sabers,” suggested Kydd, a glint of humor flashing in his blue eyes.

“Sharp lad,” said Mellon, giving a quick nod of approval, rather like a proud papa, before moving away to forestall any explosions of temper.

Arianna felt a sudden, searing flare of anger rise up in her gorge, knowing how hurt and disappointed Mellon would be when the treachery of his protégé came to light. But she hid its heat behind a cool smile.

“What a great compliment that the Foreign Office has placed such trust in you. But then, Charles cannot speak highly enough of your abilities.”

A breath of air stirred the palm fronds, the soft rustling sending a shiver of bladelike shadows ghosting over his face. Black and white, blurring to an infinite range of grays.

The leaves stilled, and as he turned into the glow of the nearby wall sconce, the candlelight gilded the choirboy curl of his smile. “I shall do all I can to justify Mr. Mellon’s confidence in me.”

Oh, yes, he was good . The flickering flames added to the illusion, creating a soft, shimmering halo behind his rose gold hair.

A part of her could almost admire his brazen lies. She knew what it was like to have one’s head and heart in thrall to an abstract idea. In her case, it had been the desire for revenge. Thank God that Saybrook had helped her see the folly of that obsession before it had destroyed her.

“As I said, he has the utmost faith in you,” replied Arianna. Looking up through her lashes, she watched for any subtle signs of guilt in his expression.

Kydd’s smile stretched wider. “I appreciate your telling me that, Lady Saybrook.”

His response reminded her of her real purpose in seeking him out. Enough of my own mordant musings. She was here to flirt. To flatter. To seduce a traitor into betraying his own dangerous secrets.

“But of course.” A flutter of lashes. “I think you know how much I admire your intellect.”

The pulse point at his throat quickened, the telltale twitch barely visible beneath the starched folds of his cravat. “There aren’t many ladies who are interested in talking about ideas.”

“There aren’t many men who can make abstract theories and complex philosophies come alive.” Arianna lowered her voice to a husky murmur. “Unlike so many others here, you never are dull or dry.”

A faint flush of color ridged his cheekbones. “I’m honored that you think so.”

“Enough so to tell me some of the things you hope to accomplish?” she asked.

“With pleasure, Lady Saybrook.”

“Excellent. And be assured that I look forward to pursuing such subjects with you in Vienna.”

As intended, the statement took Kydd by surprise. “You are coming to the Conference?”

“Not precisely.” Arianna signaled to one of the footmen for two glasses of champagne. “Saybrook is anxious to study the Emperor of Austria’s collection of rare botanical books, and a fellow scholar has arranged an invitation. I daresay he will spend most of his time in the library. But I hope to take in the sights of the city. There is, you know, an old adage about all work and no play . . .”

She paused to draw in a mouthful of the sparkling wine. “I do hope that your schedule will permit you to attend a good many of the festivities. Saybrook often finds his chocolate books more interesting than people.”

“Parties are, of course, part of diplomacy,” said Kydd slowly. “And the ones planned for the Conference are expected to be sumptuous beyond imagination.”

She let a gurgle of laughter well up in her throat. “Oh, but I have a very wild imagination.”

He smiled and raised his crystal flute in salute. “A toast to those who dare to let their minds soar free of constraint.”

No matter the danger of flying too close to the sun? The glorious wax-and-feather wings of idealism were no match for such heat and fire. Smoke and ashes . The fall would not be pretty.

“As you said earlier, the Conference offers a unique opportunity to shape history. I take it you have some ideas of your own on how to rebuild a new Europe, based on modern ideals,” prompted Arianna.

Kydd responded carefully. “I am only a junior assistant to Castlereagh, but I hope to influence some of his positions.”

He was no fool. It would be a prolonged game of cat and mouse, and for the moment, she was content to do naught but purr. Only later would the time be right to unsheathe her claws.

“Please, I’m interested in hearing what you think is important.” In her previous life, she had learned that knowing an opponent’s hopes and his dreams was a powerful weapon. One that could be wielded to great advantage.

Her request drew a chuffed laugh. “Only if you agree to stop me if I start to bore you.”

Arianna crossed her heart. “You have my solemn promise.”

“Well, in that case, we must be wary of Russia . . .”

3 cups sugar

1¾ cups unsalted butter, softened

2½ teaspoons vanilla extract

8 large egg yolks

1 12-oz. can evaporated milk

1½ cups roughly chopped pecans

1 7-oz. package sweetened shredded coconut

4 oz. German’s Sweet Chocolate, chopped

2 oz. unsweetened chocolate, chopped

½ cup boiling water

2 cups flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

¼ teaspoon kosher salt

1 cup buttermilk

4 large egg whites

1. Combine 1½ cups sugar, ¾ cup butter, 1½ tsp. vanilla, 4 egg yolks, and evaporated milk in a 2-qt. pan over medium heat. Bring to a simmer; cook until thick, 12 minutes. Strain through a sieve into a bowl; stir in pecans and coconut; chill frosting until firm.

2. Heat oven to 350˚. Grease three 9-inch round cake pans with butter; line bottoms with parchment circles. Grease parchment; set aside. Put chocolates into a small bowl; pour in ½ cup boiling water ; let sit for 1 minute. Stir until smooth; set aside. In another bowl, whisk flour, baking soda, and salt; set aside.

3. In a standing mixer, beat 1¼ cups sugar and remaining butter until fluffy; add remaining egg yolks one at a time. Add chocolate mixture and remaining vanilla; beat until smooth. On low speed, alternately add flour mixture and buttermilk until just combined; set batter aside.

“Bravo, monsieur, bravo.”

Arianna didn’t have to turn around to know who had come up behind her. The Comte of Rochemont’s silky voice was unmistakable.

“The enthusiasm of youth is always so . . . energetic,” he added, moving smoothly to stand by her side. “ Mon Dieu , I confess that I feel exhausted just listening to such eloquence.”

Kydd’s jaw tightened.

“I find Mr. Kydd’s ideas very thought-provoking,” said Arianna.

Rochemont winked. “I can think of far more interesting ways to provoke your thoughts than to prose on about politics, Lady Saybrook.” He gave an exaggerated look around. “Your husband is not here, is he?”

“No,” she replied.

“Thank God. I have suffered enough violence at his hands.” Rochemont rubbed meaningfully at the trace of a bruise on his brow. “The earl is a very dangerous man,” he said to Kydd. “A s auvage , as we say in French. Why, he knocked me to the ground during a grouse shoot at the Marquess of Milford’s house party. I fear that the rock may have left a permanent scar.”