A look of delight spread on Lady Belhaven’s face. “Oh, I do so love baby’s breath.” Then she frowned. “But you brought it. I thought I sent my grandson, Lance…or was it Benjamin. I do so get confused sometimes. Or did I send you?”
“No, Ma’am. You’re not confused. I had my orders.”
Rocky faded back into the hall. Orders or was he making up an excuse for being in the hot house? Monsieur V was clever. He’d likely figure out ways to give himself an alibi and bringing a sprig of flowers to Lady Belhaven gave him a reason to be in the hothouse. He could easily grab that while tampering with the leaves in case he needed a reason later on. And he knew he’d been seen by Rocky and Catt.
Stefan came out of the room and Rocky faded back into the dark end of the hallway. He’d done nothing suspicious. Did he know she was following him? Perhaps he was going out of his way to appear inconspicuous.
As he crossed the front hall toward the stairs, Rocky hung back, waiting for him to disappear before she trailed him. The moment his boot winked out of sight, she darted to the bottom of the staircase.
“Miss Rockwood.”
She cringed at the moniker. She hated being formally called by her name instead of her nickname. Squaring her shoulders, she turned to greet the butler, Lewis. The older man stepped forward from the shadows of the coat closet. She hadn’t realized that he’d been nearby.
“Mr. Welsh.” If he wanted to hold on to formality, so would she.
He raised one eyebrow, still dark though his brown hair was thick with gray at his temples. “A word, if you please.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to quell the urge to glance up the staircase after Stefan. Had he planned this, in order to make good on his escape?
Reluctantly, she approached Lewis, who led her into the corner where he’d been lingering in the shadows, unnoticed. They crossed his cheeks, making the planes look hard and obscuring some of the wrinkles.
Meeting her gaze, he said, “I know you’re new to the household, but I feel I must inform you of the rules. Lady Belhaven does not tolerate romantic entanglements among the staff of her household. In fact, it is grounds for dismissal.”
Since he resided in the hothouse alone for the moment, Catt shucked his tailcoat and rolled up his sleeves as he examined the plants nearest the oven. He and Rocky usually kept the most exotic plants, those whose natural habitats were hot, in this area. He bent as he ran his hands through the leaves and petals of the plants at the bottom of the shelving first, searching for pinholes. The work was methodical and humdrum. No wonder Rocky chattered.
The door to the hothouse opened to admit the click of heeled shoes and the swish of skirts. Stifling a sigh of relief, Catt took a breath to compose himself before he faced Rocky again. When he stood, however, he didn’t find his partner.
Eliza Dowden hunched over an iris plant, stripping off the leaves. What possible use could she have for that? She couldn’t cook with it; ingesting any part of that iris would cause gastrointestinal upset.
Frowning, he stepped into her path. “What are you doing?”
She jumped. Fear crossed her face as she turned to him, stuffing her hand behind her back. It was too late. He’d already seen.
“I just need a bit of garnish for the plates.”
“No, you don’t.” Well, perhaps she did, but that couldn’t be what she was about. She couldn’t be so daft as to use a poisonous flower, out of all the options in the hothouse.
He stepped closer. He’d never had cause to use his height to intimidate, seeing as he was so often with Giddy, but he steeled himself and tried now. Could Rocky be right, and Eliza was up to something on behalf of Monsieur V?
He cornered her. “I’ll have the truth now, or I’ll go straight to Lady Belhaven.”
Although Eliza was also tall, he still topped her by several inches. Her mouth quivered and she looked away from him. “Please don’t.” Her voice was a hush. She wasn’t quite as good at shielding her emotions behind an icy mask when she was off balance.
He stared her down, trying his best to imitate Morgan. If anyone could get a person to spill their secrets with nothing more than an eerie stare, it was the Duke of Tenwick.
Eliza met his gaze for only the briefest moment before she crumbled. Tears gathered in her eyes. He willed himself not to react. Despite the discomfort a woman in pain cultivated in him, he couldn’t afford to show mercy. Not when the woman in question might be a traitor to the Crown.
With a broken sob, she spilled her secret. “I put traces of iris in the food so Lady Belhaven will believe that my father is losing his touch. It’s time for him to retire, to give me the job of head cook, but he refuses. I do all the work, in any case! He’s so slow, there would never be any meals if he were left to cook alone. I deserve that position.”
Catt sighed. He rubbed his forehead. He didn’t care a whit about the machinations and jockeying going on inside the Belhaven household. His concern resided with Britain.
“Please,” she begged. “Don’t tell Lady Belhaven. She’ll turn us both out if she knew.”
“No more tampering with the food,” he said, his voice hard. After all, he ate it, too. He wasn’t certain if she only put the iris into Lady Belhaven’s food or if she also dosed the servants. He didn’t care to question the food he put into his mouth.
Her mouth turned mulish, but she didn’t say a word to contradict him. He held out his hand for the iris leaves, which she relinquished to him.
When he stepped aside, allowing her to pass, he warned, “Don’t let me catch you near the iris’s again.”
She hurried from the room without responding. Once she’d gone, he sighed and glanced up toward the frost-paned glass ceiling. Thin daylight drifted through the crusts of ice.
Was Eliza’s story true or had she made that up to cover for the fact that she was really in the hothouse to pierce a code into the leaves of one of the plants? And if it was true, why was her father remiss in his duties? Was it because he was busy spying for France?
Catt wouldn’t say a word. Not because he felt any loyalty but because if he did, it would upset the balance of the household and might drive Monsieur V underground. He couldn’t risk that.
Eliza hadn’t been piercing a code into the leaves. She’d been ripping them off, but her visit had brought up more questions, but at least now he had something to report to Rocky. Would she have something to share with him?
Rocky frowned. “Forgive me, but I’m not certain to what you’re referring.”
Lewis’s mouth turned down into a scowl. The crescent lines around his mouth deepened, exaggerated by the shadows. “You know exactly to what I’m referring. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you trailing after Stefan like a lovesick calf.”
That had not at all been what Rocky was doing. In fact, although Stefan was reasonably attractive, he didn’t appeal to her at all. He didn’t have that devil-may-care smile that emerged at inopportune moments. His hair didn’t fall onto his forehead and his cravat wasn’t perpetually askew. In fact, Stefan didn’t even wear a cravat.
“I am not remotely interested in Stefan.”
Lewis, unfortunately, didn’t seem to believe her. He narrowed his eyes, looking shrewd. When he leaned closer, she caught the faint whiff of brandy or port. “Don’t play daft with me. You must see the merit of the rule, given your past.”
Rocky fought to keep her innocent expression in place. “My past?” What the devil could he be talking about?
“With Mr. Catterson. It’s obvious that you two used to be lovers.”
That they used to be what?!
“We were never—”
Lewis glared her into silence. “Don’t deny it. It’s obvious you had a falling out after some lover’s quarrel or other. I don’t care for the details. Obviously, you can see how it would be disruptive to the household if the staff were to fall in and out of each other’s beds.”
This was…potentially the most ludicrous conversation to which Rocky
had ever contributed. Tenwick Abbey had no such rule. In fact, several of the staff were married. The duke preferred to keep families intact and the dowager actively encouraged romance in the house, especially now that three of her four sons were married.
Not that Rocky had ever indulged in that freedom herself. She preferred to focus on work, and the staff in the house kept well away from her. When not working, she often found herself in the orangery with Gideon and Catt, in any case.
The thought of her and Catt having been lovers…it was laughable, wasn’t it? Unfortunately, the memory of their near kiss surged in her mind and a small part of her wondered what might happen if they became lovers.
Certainly, it would entail all the misery and chaos that Lewis envisioned. She was mad for considering it for even a moment. If she and Catt couldn’t function adequately as friends, what made her believe there might be room in their relationship for something more intimate?
Not that she’d ever considered such a thing before, and she wouldn’t again. She had her work to focus on, now more than ever, since she was now a spy for Britain. There was a war to be fought and won. Rocky would do her part—without being distracted by a tall, handsome, often maddening man.
She bit the tip of her tongue as she forced herself to focus on the matter at hand. “I’ve never heard of such a rule being enforced,” she told Lewis. “You can’t tell me there aren’t any married couples in the house.”
His expression hardened. “There are not.”
“What of Eliza’s mother?” Father and daughter worked at the Belhaven residence, after all. It would be heartbreaking to force the family apart and the mother to find other employment.
“That is precisely why marriage among the staff is forbidden.”
Rocky frowned. “It is?” Since her arrival earlier that week, she hadn’t heard a single word about Eliza’s mother, not even her name. Who was she?
“Mrs. Dowden is dead. Although it was ruled an accident, I fear that Mr. Dowden was the man responsible and we certainly don’t need anything like that happening here again.”
Chapter 10
When Rocky stepped into the hothouse, something about her manner told Catt that all was not right. Maybe it was the way she held herself, stiff-backed and chin raised as if she faced down Napoleon himself. Perhaps it was the flash of trepidation in her eyes as she checked the corridor before shutting the door behind her. She looked as though she could use some good news.
Unfortunately, for all that he’d learned about Eliza, he couldn’t very well point to that as good news. All they’d done was rule her out as a suspect. They still had the rest of the household to actively pursue.
What had happened with Stefan? Had she found him—Monsieur V, that was? Catt took an instinctive step forward, raising his hands to shelter Rocky. When he realized what he was doing, he balled his fists and dropped them to his sides. They weren’t lovers. They were barely friends. Even if he wanted to offer her comfort, she wouldn’t accept it.
“What happened with Stefan?” he asked.
“Oh.” She looked surprised by the question. “I didn’t discover anything about him. But I may have unearthed something more troubling about someone else in the house.”
He didn’t say a word, waiting for her to collect herself. Belatedly, he realized that he still hadn’t donned his jacket. He rolled down his sleeves and righted his appearance. There. At least now she couldn’t pretend to be scandalized by his state of undress.
Not that she’d appeared to notice it at all. She dragged one of the stools in the room next to another and perched on one. Apparently, she meant for him to join her. Sitting, he braced his forearms on his thighs.
“What did you discover?” More importantly, had that person caught her doing so?
“Lewis told me that he suspects Mr. Dowden of killing his wife.”
That explained why there was no Mrs. Dowden loitering in the building. Catt sat for a moment, absorbing the information. “He suspects? There hasn’t been confirmation?”
Then again, if Mr. Dowden had been proven to kill his wife, Lady Belhaven wouldn’t continue to employ him. He would have been hauled off to prison.
“It was ruled an accident. Lewis didn’t give the details. When I tried to learn more, he responded to a call from Lady Belhaven.”
“But why would Lewis blurt that out to you. Seems out of place.”
Rocky shrugged. “He thought I was having a fling with Stefan and wanted me to know household romances were forbidden because of what happened to Mrs. Dowden.”
Catt raised a brow and she added. “Because I was following him trying to see what he was up to.”
“Okay, but still seems a bit drastic to blurt that out.”
Rocky chewed her bottom lip. “It does doesn’t it? Unless…”
“What?”
“Unless he was trying to throw me off track. Maybe Lewis is V and wants to cast suspicion on Mr. Dowden, so we don’t look at him.”
Catt pursed his lips. Could the cook be a murderer? He seemed like such a jolly man. It could be a front for something much more sinister. Were Catt and Rocky at risk, as well?
“Did Lewis mention any other mysterious deaths in the household?”
“No.”
Catt drummed his fingers on his leg as he thought.
Rocky, clearly impatient, jumped to the conclusion for him. “V could be Mr. Dowden. If he’s capable of killing his own wife, he’s more than capable of turning on his king and country.”
That, Catt believed wholeheartedly. Though they hadn’t yet proven that Mr. Dowden had done either of those things.
“If he is V, he’s not getting help from his daughter.”
Rocky frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“She was in here earlier to steal irises to put in the food.”
Rocky looked appalled. “But those will make you sick!”
He nodded. He knew that as well as she did. “She confessed that she hopes to make her father look incompetent so that he will be forced into retirement and she can take his place as lead cook.”
Rocky still looked uncomfortable. “Perhaps we should devise a means of taking our meals outside the household for the time being.”
“That would be suspicious. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves. At any rate, I’ve ensured that she won’t be continuing her scheme.”
Rocky met his gaze for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she studied him. Finally, she nodded. “Very well. But that doesn’t mean that Mr. Dowden isn’t working on his own.”
“You’re absolutely right.”
She seemed to relax a bit at his agreement. Now wasn’t the time to fall into an argument, not over something so dire.
“We’ll have to investigate further.”
Thrusting her shoulders back, she hopped off the stool. “Let’s find a cold lunch from the kitchen, shall we?”
Apparently, she meant to investigate right at that moment. Catt hesitated, staring at the room full of plants he had yet to check for evidence of tampering. Rocky, on the other hand, exited the hothouse without paying him another thought. He couldn’t let her face the cook alone. If Mr. Dowden had killed his wife and Rocky asked the wrong question, drawing suspicion to herself…
Catt didn’t want to contemplate her suffering the same fate. He jogged to catch up, reaching her side moments before she entered the adjacent kitchen.
Eliza, for the moment, had vacated the kitchen. Perhaps he’d frightened her more than he’d thought. Squaring his shoulders, he tried to imitate that same unnerving stare. He didn’t know how well he succeeded.
The cook had his back to the room as he hummed tunelessly under his breath and chopped vegetables. The scullery boy washed and skinned yet more root vegetables to prepare them for the same treatment.
As Rocky sauntered between the two men with a smile, the scullery boy seemed to pale three shades. He grabbed two handfuls of the vegetable skins and bolted out the back door in nothing more
than his shirt sleeves, presumably to add them to a compost heap that wouldn’t take effect until spring arrived.
Had Rocky frightened him? Catt slowly made his way across the room as she asked Mr. Dowden after a cold collation for their midday meal. The cook seemed more than happy to fetch something for her. Catt relaxed marginally when the man set down the wickedly sharp knife. The juices of the vegetables gleamed from the blade.
Catt lingered by the door, waiting for the scullery boy to return. Was there a reason he was avoiding Rocky? Perhaps if Catt befriended him, he might be able to find out.
As the boy re-entered the kitchen and found Catt loitering near the back door, he stopped short.
“Why don’t you close the door?” Catt said gently. “It’s quite frigid out there. You’ll catch a chill.”
Without saying a word, the boy did as he asked. “Is there something you need, sir?”
“I wouldn’t mind a moment, if you have time to chat.”
The boy danced on his feet, looking anxiously at the cook, who didn’t appear to be paying either of them any mind. “I have work to be about.”
Work that he did while under the cook’s eye. Did he know about the man’s past misdeeds? Could he be under Mr. Dowden’s thumb, forced to do the bidding of Monsieur V? He was far too young to be the man himself.
“I know all about work,” Catt said, trying to commiserate. “I’d much rather have a moment to myself to breathe. How is Mr. Dowden as a taskmaster?”
The boy shrugged but didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, he stared across the room at the cook. Or perhaps at Rocky. When she glanced in their direction, the boy quickly turned his back on her.
“He’s not bad. A better taskmaster than Lady Belhaven in the hothouse.”
“Ah,” Catt said. “You were her assistant then, I take it.”
“Not by choice, sir. I’ve no inkling of plants aside from the ones I like to eat. She said she needed my young eyes.”
Catt nodded. “It is thankless work, getting all those flowers ready for deliveries.”
Could the boy be working for Monsieur V after all? With Lady Belhaven admittedly unable to see as well as she used to, the boy could have been hiding the code this entire time and no one would have noticed. Although Catt’s gut swarmed at the thought, he tried to remain casual.
Charming the Spy (Scandals and Spies Book 4) Page 8
