Page 64 of Immortal Rose

“Willie told me, but I thought surely not . . .” Reddy circled us, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he conducted his inspection. “I must say, the gray hair really brings out the dreadful pallor of your skin, Fox.”

“How I live for your flattery.” Foxcourt plucked the thin frames from his face with a scowl. “Why is it you always seem to turn up when there’s food to be had? You’re worse than a street cat.”

“Because he knows where to find the best meal on this side of the Narrow Sea,” came the cook’s voice, lilting with the remnants of a distinctly Gallian accent. “And that there will always be a seat for him.”

Foxcourt gave a rare, genuine smile, shocking me nearly senseless as he bowed in greeting. “You look well this evening, Mrs. Silver. As I don’t believe you’ve had the opportunity to become acquainted, may I introduce—”

As flummoxed as I’d been by the earl’s deferential greeting to his servant, I was left utterly speechless as the cook turned to me with an exuberant “At last!”

Her white lace-edged cap framed one of the most devastatingly beautiful faces I had ever laid eyes upon. Every feature, from her doe-like eyes to her straight, pretty nose to her bow-shaped lips, was in perfect balance, and though it was clear she was well into middle age, her brown skin remained lineless, save for the crinkles of pleasure as she smiled.

“Oh, my dear, what a pleasure it is to meet you—how lovely!”

I was just able to drop my satchel and set the Treasury down on the nearby table before I was swept up into her embrace. Behind her, Theo’s eyes bulged in alarm as Mrs. Silver grasped my hands and leaned down to kiss the air on either side of my cheeks, in the Continental style.

Her essence was unlike anything I’d ever encountered before, alluring and terrifying all at once. She smelled of silent midnights, moon-blooming flowers, and the deep, dark earth from which things were born and others buried. Thyme, mint, parsley, and countless other herbs flavored it. Nightshade, too.

Nightshade most of all.

Behind her, the open cabinet and its shadowed bottles loomed. How strange it was not to feel in danger, even as every instinct in me was prickling with awareness that something was not right.

“I—yes, how do you do?” I managed. “I’ve been hoping to meet you and thank you for all of the delicious meals you’ve provided.”

Mrs. Silver placed a hand over her heart in an utterly Gallian pose. “Oh, what a dear you are, but I fear the pastries this morning may have been a touch over-browned—”

“They were as flawless as always,” Foxcourt said dryly. “Modesty may be the only thing that doesn’t suit you, madam.”

She clucked her tongue at him, eyeing him with a surprising amount of censure. Foxcourt seemed surprised by it, too, his lips parting.

“And this exhaustion does not suit you, mon chou,” she told him, with a thread of ice running through the words. “Though perhaps you deserve it?”

Admittedly, my grasp on Gallian was shaky at best, but had she really just called him—the Earl of bloody Foxcourt—my cabbage?

Foxcourt blinked, clearly taken aback by Reddy’s sympathetic look. Obviously, I’d missed something.

“Ah,” he said after a moment.

Mrs. Silver whirled back toward the stove with a sharp noise of disapproval as Reddy tried to sneak another taste of the soup. “If you want more you must stay and eat like a civilized young man,” she told him, shooing him away from the pot.

“If only I could,” he said mournfully. “Would you see me out in the streets, staggering and delirious with hunger as I conduct my business? I know your heart isn’t so cruel, Mrs. Silver.”

She stared at him a moment longer, her lips pursed as she fought her smile. Finally, the cook let out a soft harrumph and told him, “I shall make something for you that you can carry as you scurry about, then.”

Reddy gave her his most beatific smile. “You are a goddess, Mrs. Silver.”

“And you are incorrigible,” Foxcourt said.

“I’m incorrigible?” Reddy scoffed, nodding toward Theo. “I’m not the one who seems to have picked up Foxcourt’s unfortunate habit of bringing home strays. What’s the plan for this one, then?”

“He’ll be washed, fed, and become your hall boy,” Foxcourt said, drawing Theo forward by his shoulders. “I hope you don’t mind another mouth to feed, Mrs. Silver.”

She smiled. “I would be glad to.”

“My—” Reddy seemed flabbergasted by this. “I’ve no need of help. I have old Aimes and Mrs. Porter.”

“Aimes sleeps most of the day and Mrs. Porter brings you food only once a week,” Foxcourt said. “You need to build a household, and Theo needs work that doesn’t involve him being suffocated within a flue or tragically falling from a roof.”

Reddy’s eyes narrowed. “You cannot appeal to my compassionate heart because I don’t possess one.”