Read Online Recipe for Treason: A Lady Arianna Regency Mystery (Lady Arianna Hadley Mystery) by Andrea Penrose - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Andrea Penrose
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leaving a splattering of black blotches over the scattered quills and penknives. The drawers hung open, and the contents had been strewn helter-pelter on the floor.
“Any sign of Girton?” Henning stepped gingerly around the jumbled pile of papers and peered under the worktable, as if expecting to find a corpse hidden in the shadows.
“I’ll check the bedchamber,” volunteered Arianna.
“No, I’ll do it.” Saybrook drew his weapon. “You stay here with Baz and see what clues you can find.”
“I—I don’t understand,” stammered Connery. “What—”
A look from Henning speared him to silence.
“The worktable appears to have been swept clear of all implements,” observed Arianna as she slowly rounded the desk and ran a hand over the waxed wood. Frowning, she stared up at the ceiling, where a jagged hole, its edges black with soot, marred the whitewashed plaster.
Henning crouched down and thumbed through several of the books that had been pulled from the shelves. “It would seem the intruder came for something specific.”
He and Arianna locked eyes for a long moment before she looked away.
“Damn,” she repeated under her breath, stepping to the hearth. A flicker of orange showed that the embers still had a bit of life. She was just about to take up the poker and stir up a flame when a curl of singed leather within the ashes caught her eyes.
Shoving aside the fireguard, she dropped to her knees and fished a small notebook out from the coals.
“What’s that?” asked Henning, hurrying to her side.
Arianna swatted out the sparks, wincing as the heat burned her fingers. “I’m not sure yet.” A cursory peek beneath the cover revealed pages filled with a scrawled script. “Time enough later to examine it more closely.” She rose and carefully tucked it away in her pocket. “Come, let’s see what else we can find.”
They moved to the storage cabinets. “Why don’t you check through these, while I see if I can find a letter case. If there are any suspicious chemicals, I wouldn’t recognize them.”
“Hand me one of the glass-globed lamps. An open flame would be too dangerous—”
The clatter of Saybrook’s steps on the stairs cut off Henning’s reply.
“Half the clothing in the armoire is gone, and a valise seems to be missing from its peg,” announced the earl. “It looks as if our professor has made a hasty departure.” He turned to Connery. “Does he own any sort of conveyance—a cart, a carriage?”
“I . . . I don’t think so.”
Saybrook thought for an instant. “The laboratory! Where does he do his experiments at the university?”
“St. Salvatore’s College, in the wing closest to Butts Wynd.”
“Don’t just stand there, Connery. Lead the way!” He gave the professor a small shove. “And quickly!”
Shaking off his lingering shock, Henning’s friend finally roused himself to action. Boots skittering on the waxed wood, he bolted off down the corridor, the earl right on his heels.
“Hurry,” called Saybrook over his shoulder. “There may be a chance we can catch up with Girton.”
Giving thanks for her breeches, rather than the cursed encumbrance of flapping skirts, Arianna raced after them. She heard Henning swear and slam the cabinet doors shut. Then his footsteps were echoing somewhere in the gloom behind her.
She didn’t dare look back. The fog-swirled streets were as dark as Hades, and with precious few of the buildings showing even a flicker of light, she knew that falling behind would leave her hopelessly lost. Spurred on by the thought, she quickened her pace, even though the cold air was painfully sharp against her lungs and a stitch was stabbing at her side.
For a brief stretch Henning caught up, but she heard his breath turn wheezy and his steps begin to fade.
The surgeon knew the town, she reminded herself. He could find his own way, if need be.
After what felt like an eternity, Connery cut away from the slick cobblestones and
“Any sign of Girton?” Henning stepped gingerly around the jumbled pile of papers and peered under the worktable, as if expecting to find a corpse hidden in the shadows.
“I’ll check the bedchamber,” volunteered Arianna.
“No, I’ll do it.” Saybrook drew his weapon. “You stay here with Baz and see what clues you can find.”
“I—I don’t understand,” stammered Connery. “What—”
A look from Henning speared him to silence.
“The worktable appears to have been swept clear of all implements,” observed Arianna as she slowly rounded the desk and ran a hand over the waxed wood. Frowning, she stared up at the ceiling, where a jagged hole, its edges black with soot, marred the whitewashed plaster.
Henning crouched down and thumbed through several of the books that had been pulled from the shelves. “It would seem the intruder came for something specific.”
He and Arianna locked eyes for a long moment before she looked away.
“Damn,” she repeated under her breath, stepping to the hearth. A flicker of orange showed that the embers still had a bit of life. She was just about to take up the poker and stir up a flame when a curl of singed leather within the ashes caught her eyes.
Shoving aside the fireguard, she dropped to her knees and fished a small notebook out from the coals.
“What’s that?” asked Henning, hurrying to her side.
Arianna swatted out the sparks, wincing as the heat burned her fingers. “I’m not sure yet.” A cursory peek beneath the cover revealed pages filled with a scrawled script. “Time enough later to examine it more closely.” She rose and carefully tucked it away in her pocket. “Come, let’s see what else we can find.”
They moved to the storage cabinets. “Why don’t you check through these, while I see if I can find a letter case. If there are any suspicious chemicals, I wouldn’t recognize them.”
“Hand me one of the glass-globed lamps. An open flame would be too dangerous—”
The clatter of Saybrook’s steps on the stairs cut off Henning’s reply.
“Half the clothing in the armoire is gone, and a valise seems to be missing from its peg,” announced the earl. “It looks as if our professor has made a hasty departure.” He turned to Connery. “Does he own any sort of conveyance—a cart, a carriage?”
“I . . . I don’t think so.”
Saybrook thought for an instant. “The laboratory! Where does he do his experiments at the university?”
“St. Salvatore’s College, in the wing closest to Butts Wynd.”
“Don’t just stand there, Connery. Lead the way!” He gave the professor a small shove. “And quickly!”
Shaking off his lingering shock, Henning’s friend finally roused himself to action. Boots skittering on the waxed wood, he bolted off down the corridor, the earl right on his heels.
“Hurry,” called Saybrook over his shoulder. “There may be a chance we can catch up with Girton.”
Giving thanks for her breeches, rather than the cursed encumbrance of flapping skirts, Arianna raced after them. She heard Henning swear and slam the cabinet doors shut. Then his footsteps were echoing somewhere in the gloom behind her.
She didn’t dare look back. The fog-swirled streets were as dark as Hades, and with precious few of the buildings showing even a flicker of light, she knew that falling behind would leave her hopelessly lost. Spurred on by the thought, she quickened her pace, even though the cold air was painfully sharp against her lungs and a stitch was stabbing at her side.
For a brief stretch Henning caught up, but she heard his breath turn wheezy and his steps begin to fade.
The surgeon knew the town, she reminded herself. He could find his own way, if need be.
After what felt like an eternity, Connery cut away from the slick cobblestones and
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