Andrea Penrose - The Cocoa Conspiracy

5. Add the flour mixture and mix very briefly, only until incorporated.

6. Divide the dough into 3 equal portions and flatten each portion to a ½-inch thick disk on a sheet of plastic wrap. Seal the plastic wrap around each portion of the dough and refrigerate for at least 4 hours, or preferably overnight. (The sealed dough can be refrigerated for 2–3 days if necessary.)

7. Remove one portion of dough at a time from the refrigerator so that the dough stays cold while you are working with it. With a floured, cloth-covered rolling pin, roll the well-chilled dough out thinly (¼-inch or less) on a generously floured pastry cloth. Cut out shapes with cookie cutters.

8. Arrange on a parchment-lined baking sheet, decorate with clear sanding sugar if desired, and bake at 375º for 6–8 minutes. Watch closely to prevent cookies from overbrowning. It is difficult to tell when these cookies are done because color is not a cue.

9. Remove from the oven and cool on wire racks.

10. When completely cool, store in airtight cookie tins in a cool, dry location .

“Slàinte mhath. ” The brandy in Henning’s glass cast a swirl of fire-gold patterns over his rugged face. “I was beginning to get a bit worried about you two,” he said as Saybrook and Arianna entered the parlor. “Pour yourselves a drink and let us toast to dodging disaster.”

“Amen to that,” said the earl. He chose port.

To Arianna’s eye, its dark ruby richness was uncomfortably close to the color of blood, but the sweetness was soothing on her tongue.

“Slàinte mhath, ” she repeated, moving to the hearth and warming her hands over the dancing flames. A wrapper of finespun merino wool had replaced her purloined finery, and between the soft fabric and the flickering fire, the lingering chill was finally dispelled from her bones.

Saybrook sunk into the armchair facing the surgeon. “Much as I appreciate your peculiar sense of humor, Baz, I would appreciate it if you would stubble the clever remarks.” A grunt rumbled in his throat as he shifted his long legs. “And cut to the bloody chase, now that Arianna is here.”

“I’ve missed you too, laddie,” drawled Henning, lifting his glass in ironic salute.

The earl responded with a rude suggestion.

“And you, Lady S.” His tone turned a touch more serious. “You are a feast for sore eyes. Indeed, it warms me from my cockles to my toes to see you standing in one piece.”

She returned his smile. “It’s good to see you too, Mr. Henning. Ignore Sandro’s snarls. You know he’s always in a foul temper when he’s hungry. I’ll fetch a plate of chocolates from the kitchen to sweeten his mood.”

“I don’t want chocolate,” growled the earl. “I want information.”

“And you shall have it, just as soon as I return with some sustenance,” said Arianna. She had come to understand that his barbed exchanges with Henning were part of some arcane masculine ritual of friendship. By the time she came back with the confections, the needling would be done and they could get down to business. “Besides, I am famished, and you know that I think better on a full stomach.”

“Given your ideas of late, perhaps I should be quaking in my boots,” retorted her husband.

“Ha! You may have to eat those words.”

A short while later, the sultana-and-almond-filled chocolates consumed, the glasses refilled, Henning sat back and cleared his throat. “Well, now, it seems we are to have another one of our councils of war. Shall I start it off? Sandro has been pestering me for hours to explain why I am here.”

The earl gave an impatient little wave.

“Don’t rush me,” retorted the surgeon. “It’s a long and complicated story. But I shall try to keep it short.”

“Do,” growled the earl.

“As you know, I headed north to Scotland on the same day you left for Vienna. When I arrived in Edinburgh, my nephew was still missing, so . . .” He shifted uncomfortably. “I haven’t spoken much to you about this, but I’ve kept up ties with a group of old friends who espouse the idea of independence from England. The Crown brands their ideas sedition, while I . . . I support many of their aims, even if I don’t agree with some of their more radical efforts to achieve them.”

“ Dio Madre , you need not explain yourself to us,” said Saybrook. “I guessed as much, and respect your choices.”

“Auch, I know that, laddie, and am grateful. But this is about more than me and my personal feelings.” He blew out his cheeks. “Suffice it to say, I’m trusted enough in the underworld of Scottish patriots that people are willing to talk.” The air leaked out slowly. “And what I heard made my hair stand on end.”

Saybrook was staring down at his glass, a habit that hid his dark eyes.

“We know that Whitehall has long suspected that the French have had agents in both Scotland and Ireland, looking to encourage unrest—and perhaps even rebellion,” continued Henning. “And of course they are right. Money has been funneling in from the Continent for years. Most of it has been spent to buy loyalty from the locals, who in turn use it to support their families.” He looked up, the harsh shadows accentuating the lines that furrowed his face. “Poverty is rampant, for many of the English lords treat their Scottish tenants as a lower form of life than their hounds or horses. That’s why I’ve turned a blind eye on what was going on.”

“But with the war over and Napoleon exiled on Elba, it seems that the threat should be over,” said Arianna.

“You’re right, lassie. The threat should be over,” replied Henning. “But the more I delved beneath the surface, the more it became apparent that friends and foes were not what they seemed—which is why we have been chasing the wrong scent in our hunt for Renard.”

“Let me guess,” said Saybrook slowly. “You’re about to tell us that conceited coxcomb, Comte Rochemont is, in truth, a cunning conspirator who has spent years betraying both the Royalist cause and Britain, correct?”

“Correct,” confirmed Henning. “For nearly a decade, the duplicitous bastard has been running a network of agents provocateurs for Napoleon in Scotland. I was away on the Peninsula for some of those years, and then living in London. So I’ve kept at arm’s length from the activities, and never knew the identities of the men in charge. Had I paid greater attention to what was going on in the North, I would have also learned that Rochemont wielded an iron hand within his fancy French velvet glove.”

“That would explain Rochemont’s many so-called hunting trips across the border,” mused Saybrook. “Under the guise of a frivolous sportsman, he was overseeing his network.”

Henning made a face. “Aye. And it seems he ran a clever operation. Recruits were flattered and stroked. Those who showed intelligence and idealism were brought up through the ranks and assigned ways to weaken England. All very comradely, right?” The sardonic laugh couldn’t quite cover the pain in his voice.

Arianna felt her throat constrict.

“Except those who disagreed with the methods or tried to resign were beaten into line by Rochemont’s henchmen,” Henning went on. “Or they simply disappeared.”

“I am sorry about your nephew, but you cannot blame yourself, Baz,” said Saybrook softly. “You have read history—from the very first, rulers and demagogues have always found it easy to seduce young men with fire in their bellies.”

“I should have had my eyes and ears open. Then I would have been able to counsel Angus,” said Henning bleakly.