Page 162 of Immortal Rose

Chapter Thirty-Two

“How does one rob the Butcher of Linden?”

Reddy looked up from where he had been taking a long sip of his coffee. “Easy. They don’t.”

The gloom-drenched morning room felt like a mirror to my mood. To my surprise, only Reddy and young Theo awaited me at the breakfast table.

Reddy stood and gave a slightly ironic bow. Seeing Theo had remained seated, he hooked a foot around his chair and dragged it back, then lifted the boy to his feet by the scruff. “We rise when ladies arrive and depart. You might also try a ‘Good morning, my lady’ for good measure.”

“M’lady?” Theo interrupted, leveling me with a look of searing accusation. “Yer one of ’em now?”

“Temporarily,” I said, a bit too defensively given I was speaking to a child. “Don’t think I won’t give you a good basting if it comes to it.”

The boy let out a harrumph. “But yer a lady.”

“A notorious one,” I reminded him. “Haven’t you heard? I poison kings and bewitch husbands. The home secretary himself threatened to arrest me, you know.”

Theo seemed begrudgingly impressed.

Scrubbed up, with his brown hair trimmed, the boy looked almost healthy. He wore a miniature, nearly identical version of Reddy’s attire—a maroon jacket, yellow patterned silk waistcoat, and pale breeches.

“He’s been promoted from hall boy to minion,” Reddy explained at my questioning look, reclaiming his seat. “Now what’s this about robbing Greystone?”

Theo’s brows rose with interest, his cheeks stuffed with crumpets like a squirrel hoarding acorns as he looked between us.

I gave Reddy a speaking glance. By the innocence of his expression, he already knew everything.

“Here’s a quaint idea,” Reddy began, pouring himself more coffee. “Why don’t you try simply asking him for it back?”

“I think we both know that is not how Greystone operates,” I said. “He’s said to live at the gaming hell he owns. Is there a way to slip inside, perhaps posing as deliverymen, or—”

“He holds meetings in the study of his private apartments all day,” Reddy said. “If he has the nectar, it would be there. Hypothetically, if I were to encourage your participation in this—which I am certainly not, if Fox asks—your best bet is to wait until the evening, when he leaves to walk the gaming floors. In fact, I heard he’s intending to host a fete there in honor of midsummer tonight.”

“Oh?” I asked, pouring myself a cup of tea. “And, hypothetically, how would one secure entrance to it?”

Reddy glanced at his fob. “I suspect you’ll see for yourself, in just a few moments.”

“Foxcourt?” I guessed, glancing to his empty seat.

“No, he’s engaged in other sordid business this morning.” Reddy picked up the copy of The Linden Times, passing it to me. If I hadn’t already been seated, I would have fallen over. There was a single story on the front page.

Duke of Glenmoor to Wed Princess Eleanor

“No,” I whispered. God, poor Eleanor. She must have been terrified. “How is this even possible? Is the King even—?”

Theo looked up, intrigued, and I barely caught the word lucid in time to hold it back. It was the tenth day. If the hallucinations hadn’t begun, they likely would by evening. It no longer felt safe to hope that the King’s Blend would grant us additional time. We had to maneuver with the assumption the King had two days left. At most.

“I don’t know how he did it,” Reddy said, sensing the direction of my thoughts. “Glenmoor gloated about securing consent yesterday, but given the King’s condition, we were awaiting word from Vernon on the matter. Fox has gone to confirm that there’s been a legal Instrument of Consent issued.”

“Binged out of ’ere the moment he saw the papers,” Theo supplied helpfully. “Was in a right terror of a mood.”

Reddy gave him a narrow look before continuing. “The document would have to have been witnessed by the Privy Council—but, of course, the groom himself is a member.”

Of course he was. I buttered a piece of toast, fuming.

“You should have told me of this yesterday,” I chided.

“I thought Fox would,” Reddy said. “But knowing your views on marriage, he likely didn’t want to distress you—and, well, he’s been rather distracted as of late.”