Recipe for Treason by Andrea Penrose

for complaint.”
    “That doesn’t explain what you and your men were doing here tonight,” said Saybrook.
    “We had word that there was a disturbance around the university.” His flash of teeth was clearly not meant to be a smile. “Given that it’s a hornet’s nest of sedition, it was my duty to investigate.”
    “And yet, you are headquartered in Dundee. So unless the horses here in Scotland have sprouted wings, I fail to see how such news reached you—or how you were magically transported over such a distance.”
    The colonel shifted his stance, the gilded clink of his sword punctuating the scuff of his boots on the grass. “As a matter of fact, it was merely fortuitous coincidence that I was already here in St. Andrews. You see, I was coming to personally inform you of some unfortunate news. It is not within my power to deliver the prisoner whose release you requested.”
    “Then send to London for additional orders,” said the earl.
    “Alas, that won’t help.” A glint of gold-flecked malice seemed to spark in the colonel’s eyes. “The fellow was shot dead while trying to escape.”
    The only show of emotion from Saybrook was the tic of a tiny jaw muscle. He stood, still and silent as stone, for several moments before saying slowly, “Ill luck seems to strike people who cross your path.”
    A careless shrug. “I would have thought that you, as a former officer, would understand that the best way to defeat one’s enemies is to give no quarter on the field of battle.”
    “England is no longer at war, Stoughton.”
    “Not technically, perhaps. But from what I have heard, the diplomats and royalty gathered in Vienna care more about drinking, dancing and trading mistresses than they do about forging alliances or reordering borders. How long do you think peace will reign in Europe?”
    “It isn’t my duty to speculate on politics, either here or abroad. Nor is it yours,” replied Saybrook.
    A wink of starlight hung on the colonel’s sandy lashes as he narrowed his eyes. “Quite right—my duty lies in keeping the powder keg that is Scotland from exploding. So it would be exceedingly helpful if you were to tell me why you wished to have a student revolutionary released.”
    “Sorry, but if Grentham did not choose to enlighten you on that matter, then I see no reason to reveal the information.”
    The colonel tapped his gloved palms together several times in succession, as if seeking to ward off a chill. “Ah, but the trouble is, when one hand does not know what the other hand is doing, it can result in dangerous misunderstandings. As you see from tonight, it really is in the best interests of you and your companions to keep me informed of what is going on.” The taps grew a little louder. “By the by, was that your wife hiding beneath the masculine attire of breeches and boots?”
    “My wife?” answered the earl very deliberately. “Your eyes must be playing tricks on you.”
    “If I were you, I would be very careful about how you—and she—go on here in St. Andrews. It’s easy for those who are strangers here to stray into trouble.”
    “Thank you for the warning. My wife will certainly be on guard against any further mishaps. As will I.”
    Stoughton set a hand on the pommel of his sword. “A wise move.” He paused. “Though I daresay you are making a foolish mistake not to share information with me. It always pays to have an ally when one is in enemy territory.”
    “I work best alone,” replied the earl. “And as London entrusted me to handle this mission as I see fit, I shall continue to do so.” He fixed Stoughton with a level gaze. “If I change my mind, I shall let you know.”
    “We’re a far way from the civilized streets of London,” said the colonel softly. “Horse Guards won’t be sending the Oxford Blues galloping to your rescue if things go awry.”
    Saybrook’s laugh was hardly louder than the wind ruffling through the gorse. “As I said at our previous