Page 90 of Immortal Rose

“You’ve never been?” he asked, surprised.

“I’ve never had the means or reason to,” I said. It had always simply been another advantage the Patricians had over the rest of us. Mama had wanted to leave Linden, for the country or for another city, but marrying, and then illness, had trapped us here.

“I’m afraid to say the air is clearer and quite endurable, even with the presence of farm animals,” he said.

“And?” I countered. “I have never shied from a challenge.”

Even if that challenge was breathing bleak, reeking air. I’d learn to hold my breath for an hour before I ever let it defeat me.

“Yes,” he said, his eyes softening in a way I didn’t understand. “I know.”

Feeling a flutter of something unwelcome in my chest, I returned my attention to the plate between us, rolling a blueberry beneath my finger. “Thank you for my mother’s portrait.”

Now it was his turn to be absorbed in studying the food. He shifted, and I could have sworn the tips of his ears went a touch pink.

“Of course,” he told the cheese, a bit gruffly. “It’s yours, or soon to be, anyway.”

Ah. “Well . . . thank you regardless.”

Foxcourt nodded, drawing in a soft breath. It was a moment before he looked up and met my curious gaze. My finger stilled against the blueberry.

“Tell me if something is the matter,” he said roughly. “I cannot help you otherwise.”

“I do not need your help,” I reminded him, surprised by how soft the words were as they escaped.

His bare hand rose toward me, crossing that distance between us. He hardly seemed conscious of it.

“Yes,” Foxcourt murmured, shocking me into stillness as his thumb, calloused and warm, gently brushed a crumb from the corner of my lips. “But you’ll have it regardless.”

Unspent breath burned in my chest, and I found myself leaning forward into that touch rather than away from him. His eyes were still fixed on the point where his thumb rested, his other fingers curling petal soft around my jaw.

The door to the back garden creaked open, and we flew back from the worktable as quickly as if someone had tossed a lit firework onto it.

Reddy’s eyes landed on the abandoned plate of food with unerring accuracy. “Oh, thank God. I’m famished.”

Foxcourt cleared his throat, moving to refill our water glasses. “Good evening to you as well.”

Reddy was dressed in his usual fine attire, including a topper and greatcoat, as if he was on his way somewhere more important or returning home from it.

Mid-bite of bread, he gave a little bow in my direction. “Glad to see you up and about, Lockwood. You had the household worried.” His eyes lit suddenly, as if something had sparked. “Say, if you’re feeling well—”

“No,” Foxcourt said flatly, handing my water glass back to me. “Absolutely not.”

“What?” I asked.

“We need a third,” Reddy argued. “The Roach never showed at the meet—”

“He didn’t?” Foxcourt interrupted. “That’s not like him.”

“There were a number of police about, it might have sent him scurrying,” Reddy said, with a dismissive wave. “Regardless, I told Carrington that I’d be making an introduction, ergo I need someone to introduce. And being the clever lad I am”—he popped a blueberry into his mouth—“I never specified if that someone was a man or woman. Lord So-and-So of Nowhereshire can just as easily be the widow Lady So-and-So seeking to move some of her dearly departed husband’s contraband from one coast to another.”

“No,” Foxcourt repeated firmly.

“Fox wants to search the ship and cargo Glenmoor has smuggled in for evidence that the duke’s aligned with Gallia,” Reddy explained to me, propping a hip against the table and momentarily blocking Foxcourt’s exasperated face from view. “I’ve arranged a meeting with the ship captain as a distraction, but also to inquire about anyone importing or moving fairy relics, including flowers and the like.”

My heart leapt at the prospect. I turned back toward the earl. “Is that why you’re dressed to heave a cough?”

“Rob a house,” Reddy helpfully clarified for Foxcourt. “Didn’t you say that Lockwood can tell when someone’s lying? Wouldn’t that be a rather invaluable skill to have while prodding the old sea dog for answers?”