Free Recipe for Treason: A Lady Arianna Regency Mystery (Lady Arianna Hadley Mystery) by Andrea Penrose Page B

ring of torchlight, the flames lit the gold braid and medal adorning his scarlet tunic. “You are intruding on military business that does not concern you.”
    “The devil it doesn’t,” he replied, brushing past Colonel Stoughton’s upraised arm without slowing a step. “You’ve just shot my colleague.”
    “Indeed?” Stoughton’s face betrayed not a flicker of emotion. “Perhaps you would care to explain why he was skulking around the town with a firearm at this hour.”
    The earl ignored the question. Dropping down beside Arianna, he placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “How bad is it?” he murmured.
    Taking care not to look up, she replied in a low whisper. “A bullet to the shoulder. I think I’ve staunched the bleeding, but I can’t tell whether any bones are broken. It needs proper care as soon as possible.”
    “The first order of treatment is a flask full of whisky,” rasped Henning. His voice was weak but steady.
    “And you shall have it,” replied Saybrook. “Where shall we take you to be sewn up, Baz?”
    A cough. “Murray. On Hope Street.”
    “Make a stretcher with your coats and muskets,” he snapped at the soldiers. “And be bloody quick about it.”
    “I’ll go along with them,” said Arianna. He saw that she had had the presence of mind to hide her weapon. “To ensure that he is settled safely there.”
    Their eyes met for an instant. “Yes, a wise idea,” he said softly.
    “You are not the one giving orders here, Mr. Castellano.” Stoughton approached with a leisurely stride.
    “Call it a strong suggestion, Colonel,” said the earl, not looking up from his friend. “I am sure that you and your government would not wish for an innocent man to perish because of this unfortunate incident. It might provoke trouble.”
    Stoughton hesitated for a half moment, then gave a brusque wave at his sergeant. “Take the man to the surgeon.” A pause. “Post a guard there to ensure there are no further mishaps.” To Saybrook, he added, “I shall, of course, wish to speak with your man in the morning.”
    The earl rose and stepped away, allowing the soldiers to ready Henning for the short trip. After pressing the pad of cloth torn from Henning’s shirttails a little tighter to his wound, Arianna did the same, though she was careful to edge back out of the light. Her heavy cloak hid her shape, and she kept her head down so that the broad-brimmed hat blocked a view of her face.
    They did not speak.
    Henning remained stoically silent as the soldiers shifted him onto the makeshift stretcher. With a torchbearer leading the way, they trooped off into the night, Arianna at the surgeon’s side, her hand protectively on his wounded shoulder.
    Saybrook waited until the skirl of smoky light melted into the fog before turning to the colonel. “If you wish to do something useful, you will send the rest of your men to the laboratory on the first floor of the far tower. There’s another body there to be carried away—though that one has no need for medical attention.”
    A glimmer of gold flickered as the colonel smoothed the braided cuff of his glove. After a long moment, deliberately drawn out, he barked an order to his remaining men.
    “Now, perhaps you would be kind enough to explain what you and you friends were doing here, Mr. Castellano,” said Stoughton, sarcasm shading the last few words.
    “I think it’s you who owe an explanation for your presence,” countered the earl. “And for the fact that your men fired on an unidentified individual without provocation. Do you make a habit of shooting first and asking questions later? If so, it’s no wonder the Scots wish to throw off the yoke of English rule.”
    “My, my, you sound as if you sympathize with the rabble,” sneered Stoughton. “Force is needed to keep these Highland brutes in order. London has sent me here to ensure there will be no trouble from the north, and I do what is necessary to see that they have no cause