Recipe for Treason Read Online Free Page A

murder is a weapon he uses with impunity if it suits his purposes.” A scowl pinched his face. “In truth, the whole bloody circle of officials privy to this mission are a bunch of arrogant aristocrats who think themselves gods among mortal men.”
    “I trust you do not include Charles on your list of suspects,” said Saybrook softly. His uncle, Charles Mellon, was a senior diplomat in the Foreign Office, and it was because of him that the earl had first become involved in investigating murder and treachery within the inner sanctum of Whitehall.
    “I don’t know who to trust anymore,” muttered Henning.
    Oh, hell, thought Arianna.
    Friends, family, country . . . Loyalties were going to be tangled and tested in unimaginable ways by this mission. The special bond between the surgeon and her husband had been forged in the fire of the brutal Peninsular War. But were the ties of blood and Scottish heritage tugging at their camaraderie?
    “I know this endeavor is fraught with emotion for you, Baz,” said Saybrook. “But don’t let your heart overpower your head. We must use cold logic in order to vanquish all our enemies—and like you, I’m aware that there may be more than one lurking out there.”
    For an instant, Henning’s expression turned even darker. But then his bony face relaxed into a throaty laugh. “We Scots don’t have hearts, merely chips o’ Highland flint, liberally watered with whisky. However, you are right—we’re a clannish people, and I’ve let my blood rise to boil on account of the threat to my sister’s son. I shall try to temper my personal feelings.”
    “I know that this stirs political as well as personal conflicts for you,” replied the earl. “If there were a way to avoid your involvement—”
    “Well, there isn’t. Not with Grentham using my nephew as a pawn in his dirty games,” snapped Henning. “Without my help, you haven’t a snowball’s chance in Hell of getting any information out of the locals in St. Andrews. They aren’t, to put it mildly, very chatty with strangers.”
    He drew a deep breath and let it out in a long hiss. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be biting your head off, but my nerves are stretched tight as a bowstring right now. My sister is sick with worry over Angus, what with the lad being incarcerated at Inverness prison. The Sassenach jailers there are notorious for their mistreatment of Scottish prisoners.”
    Sassenach. Henning had unconsciously used the Gaelic term for “English,” noted Arianna. It was not a flattering moniker.
    “We understand,” she said.
    Saybrook shifted against the leather squabs. “I was not going to say anything until we arrived in Edinburgh, but I had one last meeting with Grentham before we left London, and I managed to wrest a concession from him regarding your nephew. As you know, the original agreement was that he is to go free only after Renard is apprehended. However, the minister agreed that your nephew will be released as soon as we reach St. Andrews.” The earl’s lips curled in a faintly mocking smile. “Grentham called it a good-faith gesture that we will not renege on our promise to capture the traitor.”
    Henning spit on the floorboards. “The bastard is all heart, isn’t he?”
    “Grentham doesn’t need such an organ to pump blood through his veins,” quipped Arianna, trying to lighten the mood. “A hunk of coal is all that he requires to blow smoke and brimstone through his body.”
    As she had hoped, Henning chuckled. “Aye, no wonder the air around him always stinks of sulfur.”
    “Enough jabs at Grentham,” counseled Saybrook. “Let us save all our punches for whatever enemies lie ahead. This attack was likely just the first exchange of blows. I’m sure our strength will be sorely tested in the coming days.”
    “True enough.” The glint of amusement died in Henning’s eyes. “Don’t think I’m ungrateful, laddie. I know the high-and-mighty minister does not give his favors for