The Cocoa Conspiracy by Andrea Penrose Page A

“But I would not have thought them worth the risk of murder.”
    “I don’t think he was after the emeralds.” Arianna took the volume of engravings out from its hiding place. “I think he was after this.”

7
    From Lady Arianna’s Chocolate Notebooks
    Bittersweet Chocolate Ice Cream
    2 cups heavy cream
1 cup milk
½ cup sugar
⅛ teaspoon kosher salt
8 ounces dark chocolate (preferably 72 percent cacao),
roughly chopped
1 tablespoon whisky or rum
    1. In a saucepan over medium-low heat, simmer cream, milk, sugar and salt, stirring occasionally until sugar dissolves.
    2. In the bowl of a food processor, pulse chocolate until finely chopped. Add one cup hot cream mixture and process until smooth.
    3. Transfer to a large bowl. Slowly pour in remaining hot cream mixture and the whisky or rum, whisking constantly. Place bowl in refrigerator or set in an ice bath to chill.
    4. When cold, pour into the bowl of an ice cream machine and churn according to manufacturer’s directions. Transfer to a container and freeze until solid, at least 2 hours. Let sit at room temperature for 5 to 10 minutes before serving, or in refrigerator for 15 to 30 minutes.
    Yield: About a quart.

    “A book.” Saybrook took it from her and thumbed through the pages before adding, “Quite a lovely book, in fact. But delicious as it is to us, Theobroma cacao is not something that ought to attract the violent interest of others.”
    “It’s not the book, per se .” Arianna drew a deep, unhappy breath, knowing her revelations were about to entangle them in a new web of secrets and lies. Spiders and serpents. Sinister, silent predators.
    The thought of them made her skin crawl.
    “But I had better start at the beginning.” She quickly recounted what had happened in the bookstore, and the unexpected encounter with her assailant the previous evening.
    “You didn’t think an attack on your person was something I ought to know about?” he interrupted softly. “Or the fact that the man who assaulted my wife is present here?”
    “The book was meant to be a special birthday present, Sandro. Any mention of the incident would have spoiled the surprise,” she answered. “And besides, I thought Davilenko was simply one of those eccentric, obsessed book collectors that you mentioned to me. A boor and a bully, but not any real threat.” The papers seemed to hiss and crackle beneath her fingertips as she pulled them out from behind the marbled endpaper. Is it my imagination, or did a whiff of brimstone suddenly taint the air? “Until I found these hidden in the binding.”
    Saybrook stared at the folded sheets for a long moment before reluctantly holding out his hand. “I take it they are not recipes,” he muttered.
    “Not unless you are looking to cook up chaos.”
    One by one, he carefully unfolded them, his face remaining expressionless as he read over the contents. The only sign of emotion was a tiny tic in the muscle of his jaw. But even that was quickly controlled.
    Arianna waited for a reaction, but he simply reshuffled the sheets and appeared to begin a second round of study.
    Finally, when she could stand the silence no longer, she cleared her throat. “Well, what do you think?”
    The earl didn’t look up. “If you are asking whether I think my uncle is capable of betraying his country, the answer is no, I don’t.”
    “Nor do I,” she said tightly. “But someone with access to his confidential files is.”
    “Renard?” During their previous investigation, they had uncovered a rumor about an elusive French spy called Renard. The fox . If the whispers were true, he was a very cunning individual who moved within the highest circles of Society.
    “The name certainly leaps to mind when speaking of documents stolen from the inner sanctum of Whitehall.” She paused. “Do you think he actually exists? We had only a criminal’s word to go on, but . . .”
    “As a matter of fact, I do believe Renard is more than smoke and