The Cocoa Conspiracy Read Online Free

vinegar.”
    “Is your leg hurting you?” she asked.
    Saybrook had suffered a serious saber wound during the Battle of Salamanca. Invalided out of the army, he had been a morose, opium-addicted specter of his former self when first they had met. It was Mellon who had suggested that his nephew rekindle some interest in life by helping the Ministry of State Security investigate the attempted poisoning of the Prince Regent—though she suspected that he had quickly come to regret it.
    The best laid plans of mice and men . . . Arianna repressed a rueful smile. She had been the prime suspect, but luckily for her, Saybrook was one of those rare individuals who valued truth over expediency. Smelling a rat, he had refused to rush to judgment. Together, they had formed a wary alliance to pursue a common enemy; no matter that at first, they each had far different reasons and far different notions of justice.
    Mistrust had slowly softened into respect, and then . . .
    Her husband shifted and stood up. “It’s not my leg,” he quipped. “It’s the prospect of a fancy house party that’s a pain in the arse.” Moving to the sideboard, he spun the molinillo in the chocolate pot and poured himself a fresh cup. “As you see, my limp is gone—and I shall soon be losing my manly figure as well if you and Bianca keep stuffing me with sweets.”
    “She thinks you are still far too thin.”
    “Ha! Between the two of you, I fear I will grow as fat as Prinny and have to wear a corset.”
    Arianna rolled her eyes. His long, lithe frame had fleshed out considerably since their initial encounter, but it was all lean muscle and whipcord sinew. “I should think twice about that, if I were you. Corsets are horribly uncomfortable. And they creak.”
    “Ah, well, the sound would simply be another quirk added to my list of eccentricities.”
    “In that, we are two peas in a pod.” She made note of yet another errand to be done and then looked up. “Is there any other reason you are in such an oddly maudlin mood?”
    The dark fringe of his lashes hid his eyes. “Is it that obvious ?”
    “Only to me.”
    Saybrook shuffled to the bank of leaded windows and stared out over the gardens for several moments before answering. “A letter arrived from my sister Antonia this morning.”
    “Has something happened?” she asked quickly. “Is she unwell? Unhappy?”
    “On the contrary, she sounds quite cheerful.” He, on the other hand, did not. “She is enjoying her tour of the Lake District with Miss Arnold, and is looking forward to the new school term.”
    “You must not feel guilty. For the moment, this arrangement is probably the best for her.”
    “I know, I know,” he muttered. “And yet it seems cowardly to let her believe I am merely a distant relative, who takes a casual interest in her well-being.” It was only a year ago, on the death of the old earl, that Saybrook had discovered he had a younger sister. “Damn my father for never explaining the situation to me. Whatever was he thinking, to leave such important matters unspoken?”
    “He undoubtedly thought he had time to do so,” answered Arianna. “He did not expect to fall from his horse during a fox hunt.”
    Saybrook replied with an exasperated oath. “Having lost both his first wife and second wife—or lover—to sudden illness, he, of all people, should have understood how quixotic life can be.” His mouth thinned to a grim line. “If he was indeed married to Antonia’s mother, why did he keep the relationship a secret, and hide her away in a school after her mother’s death, instead of acknowledging her as his legitimate daughter?”
    “We can only speculate as to his motives,” said Arianna softly. “I imagine that at first he was worried about how English society would react. Your mother was of noble birth, and still she was not accepted by many in the ton . Antonia’s mother was a commoner, and according to the notes you found among his papers, the