Andrea Penrose: The Cocoa Conspiracy

She shot him a skeptical look. “And what would your conscience say to that?” Saybrook was the most honorable man she had ever met—which was both a blessing and a curse.

“Damn,” he muttered.

“I had better get Maria started on packing the trunks.” Arianna sighed. “I suppose that I shall have to make a visit to Madame La Farge and order a few ball gowns. And you must stop by Weston and select a silk for a new waistcoat.”

“Must I?” Saybrook grimaced.

“You claim that the floral pattern I chose makes you look like an organ grinder’s monkey,” she reminded him.

“Oh, very well.” He began to gather up his papers. “Milford is the sort of fellow who has a wine cellar stocked with superb vintages of port, and a library offering naught but dreadfully dull volumes from the last century. So let us be sure to pack plenty of books. Otherwise we shall be bored to perdition.”

12 tablespoons (1½ sticks) butter, more for pan

6 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped into small pieces

3–4 drops almond extract

2 tablespoons strong coffee

4 large eggs, separated

Pinch of salt

1 cup sugar

1¾ cups finely ground almonds

2 tablespoons sugar

1 tablespoon corn syrup

¼ cup water

4 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped into small pieces

1 tablespoon butter

1. Heat oven to 325 degrees. Butter a 9-inch spring-form pan, and line the side wall with parchment paper. In a heavy-bottomed pan, combine 12 tablespoons butter, 6 ounces chopped chocolate, almond extract and coffee. Melt over low heat, then transfer to a bowl and allow to cool.

2. With an electric mixer, whisk egg whites and salt until soft peaks form. Slowly add ½ cup sugar until thick and glossy. Set aside.

3. In a separate bowl, whisk together egg yolks with remaining ½ cup sugar until thick. Fold in the melted chocolate mixture. Add ground almonds and mix well. Whisk in a dollop of egg whites to lighten mixture. Using a rubber spatula, gently fold in the rest of egg whites, keeping batter airy.

4. Scrape batter into pan and bake until cake is dry on top and a bit gooey in center, 30 to 40 minutes. (After 30 minutes of baking, check center of cake with a tester or toothpick. If center seems very wet, continue baking.) Cool cake on a rack for 20 minutes, then remove side of pan. Allow to continue cooling. Top of cake may crack as it cools, but glaze will cover most cracking.

5. In a small saucepan, combine 2 tablespoons sugar, the corn syrup and ¼ cup water. Bring to a boil, then remove from heat. Add 4 ounces chopped chocolate, swirl pan to mix, and allow to stand until melted, about 3 minutes.

6. Whisk 1 tablespoon butter into icing, then pour evenly over cake. Use a spatula to ease icing out to edges of cake. Allow icing to cool and set before slicing.

A dappling of sun filtered through the tall mullioned windows, its honeyed hue deepened by coming twilight. Overhead, a myriad of candles flickered in the chandeliers, highlighting the rich fabrics and opulent furnishings that graced the Marquess of Milford’s formal salon. Glass-paned doors at the far end of the room opened on to a terrace overlooking the gardens. The scent of lilac and roses drifted up from the ornamental plantings, the subtle fragrances swirling with the lush floral perfumes and spicy colognes of the guests who had gathered for champagne before the welcoming dinner.

Flowers needed no artifice to enhance their natural sweetness, thought Arianna as she paused in the archway to regard a group of bejeweled ladies clustered near the marble display pedestals. The same could not be said for the fauna . Plunging necklines, decorative lace, sparkling sequins—there was an old adage about gilding the lily . . .

Ah, but I am one of them now, she thought ruefully, smoothing a hand over the lush silk of her gown. And yet, she still felt like an imposter, a wild weed sprung to life among a garden of cultivated blooms. A single pearl from the lustrous strand woven through her upswept hair would have fed her for a year in her former life.

“Smile, my dear,” counseled Saybrook, slanting a sidelong glance at her expression.

“Very well,” she replied under her breath. “But please don’t ask me to simper.”

His mouth twitched.

The buzz of conversation grew louder as yet another small group made its way into the room.

“That is the party from Paris,” said Saybrook. Like them, most of the guests had arrived at the country estate that afternoon. “Beaulieu, an old Royalist, will be part of Prince Talleyrand’s delegation in Vienna. But he has come to London to confer with our Foreign Ministry and the émigré leaders here in London before traveling on to the Continent. To his right is Flambert, a former colonel in Napoleon’s Imperial Guards.”

“Sandro, you must remember that I was raised in the West Indies, where Europe and its wars seemed very far away,” replied Arianna. “I need some help in understanding the complex politics and alliances. Royalists, émigrés, Talleyrand—you must explain to me what they all stand for.”

“Sorry,” he said with a wry smile. “I shall try to explain things simply. You know, of course, that in 1789, the French people rose up in revolution and beheaded King Louis XVI and his queen, Marie Antoinette, several years later, along with a great number of the old aristocracy. The Bourbon dynasty had ruled France since the 1500s, but now it was gone in a wink of steel. A democratic republic was declared, which frightened the rest of Europe, and so France was attacked by a coalition of its neighbors. For over two decades, the continent has been torn by conflict, and once Napoleon came to power in France and declared himself emperor, the wars escalated. Now that he has finally been defeated and exiled to the isle of Elba, there is a complicated jockeying for power, both within France and across the Continent.”

“I see,” she murmured. “Perhaps I should be taking notes.”

“It does get rather complicated,” said Saybrook. “The Royalists are those who remained loyal to the Bourbon dynasty, and are now happy that it has been restored to the throne of France. In general the émigrés—that is, the French who fled here to England to escape the Revolution—are Royalists. But the former supporters of Napoleon aren’t happy that the Bourbon dynasty has been returned to power. They would like to see a different form of government established, one where the people have more of a voice.”

He took a look around the room before going on. “That is just one of the many issues that will be decided at the upcoming Peace Conference in Vienna. Prince Talleyrand, the current Foreign Minister of France, will be leading the negotiations for his country. He is clever, cunning and a master of diplomacy. The other main powers at the Conference will be England, Russia and Austria. You will meet some of their representatives here tonight.”

“I shall endeavor to keep all of this straight,” said Arianna. “Though in truth, I find politics an ugly game.” Her gaze shifted to an extremely handsome gentleman who had just turned away from Beaulieu and Flambert in order to bow over their hostess’s hand.

“Who is Adonis?” she asked, finding it hard not to stare. Like a Greek god, the man possessed striking classical good looks—curling ringlets of golden hair framed chiseled cheekbones, a straight nose and a full-lipped, sensuous mouth.