Sweet Revenge by Andrea Penrose Page B

The trouble was, the earl had seen her as a woman, and whatever his other faults, he was not a man who would be fooled twice by any disguise.
    No, if she wanted to pursue her quarry, she would have to improvise. And after careful consideration, a plan had started to take shape. . . .
    Another tap on the oak interrupted her thoughts, but this time it was Saybrook, not a servant, who entered.
    “I see you have broken your fast.” His expression conveyed an edge of irony as he surveyed the heaping platters.
    “There is more than enough to share,” said Arianna.
    The earl pulled up a chair. A night had done little to improve his appearance. He had shaved, and brushed his long locks into some semblance of order, but the burnished blackness only accentuated the sickly pallor of his gaunt face.
    Bloody hell, she hoped he wasn’t about to expire. She needed him alive, at least for a little longer .
    “I’m not hungry,” he murmured.
    “No wonder you look like you should be knocking on death’s door, not mine.” Arianna forked a piece of pineapple onto her plate. “By the by, isn’t it highly improper for you to be visiting me in my bedchamber? My reputation would be in tatters if word got out.” She met his grim gaze and grinned. “As would yours, milord.”
    “I think we can dispense with formalities, Miss Smith,” said Saybrook dryly. “Our secret should be safe enough. For now, that is. However—”
    “However, we must decide how to deal with this situation,” she interrupted. “I agree, sir. I have been thinking . . . and I have a proposition.”
    The earl crossed one booted foot over the other. “Indeed?”
    “Yes, and I shall cut to the chase, sir,” said Arianna, deciding that coyness was a waste of time. “You need me. I have seen and heard certain things at Lady Spencer’s establishment that may be of utmost importance in unraveling your mystery. So I’ll help you—but only on certain conditions.”
    “Which are?”
    “I’ll tell you all I know, and I’ll help you pursue certain leads—as to how is a detail that I will get to in a moment.”
    His face remained expressionless.
    “But in return,” she went on, “you must allow me the freedom to follow up on my own concerns. I assure you, they do not conflict with yours.” Arianna paused for a fraction, giving him time to digest what she had said. “That is my offer. Take it or leave it.”
    “But you won’t reveal what those concerns of yours are?”
    She shook her head.
    “You don’t trust me?”
    “Good God, no,” she replied. “I’ve learned not to trust anyone .” She slanted a challenging look at him. “Why should I? You aren’t going to claim that you trust me, are you?”
    “Good God, no,” he said with a sardonic smile.
    “There, you see,” she said. “We are capable of establishing a certain level of honesty with each other. Within such a framework, we could be of use to each other.”
    “Perhaps.” Saybrook folded his arms across his chest. “But since you are asking me to hang my cods over the fire, so to speak, I would appreciate a little more assurance that they will not end up burned to a crisp.”
    She swallowed a bite of creamed kippers before replying, “That’s a fair request.” Pouring herself another cup of chocolate she added a grating of nutmeg. “By the by, your cook is not half bad. Cilantro and guindilla verde peppers add a piquant flavor to the shirred eggs.”
    “I will pass on your compliments,” he said. “But much as I enjoy discussing cuisine, I would prefer that we stick to the subject.
    “Very well.” Arianna buttered a thick slice of toast, and then added a dollop of strawberry preserves. “Lady Spencer liked to talk, and I encouraged it. I would prepare a serving of my special hot chocolate on most afternoons, along with a plate of her favorite almond pastries. And while she ate and drank, I asked questions about her circle of friends.”
    “Why?”
    “I’ve told you, my