Robert pulled open a cabinet near the door, peering in.
“What ya wantin’?”
“Something for breakfast. Coffee?”
Cook wiped her hands on her apron. “Close that up. Ain’t nothin’ in there for ya. Ya know better than to come down here prowlin’ through stuff for food that’s already been eat. It’s almost time for luncheon.” But, even as she fussed, Cook pulled a rough wooden tray from a narrow storage shelf near the stove and plopped it on the table. “I got some sweets left and a fresh loaf.” She opened a low box on the counter and added four jam-covered pastries to the tray.
“That would be wonderful. Perfection to start the day. I am salivating just considering the taste.”
“Do ya talk like that to the fancy lady ya been courtin’?”
He grinned. “Some of the time.”
“No wonder she’s swooning o’er ya.” She pulled a linen cloth from a still-warm loaf of bread, sliced the loaf in half and added it to the tray. That was followed by a small bowl of butter, a knife, and a small pot of coffee, which she filled from a larger pot on the stove.
“I do the best I can.”
“Does she know about—” Cook pointed at the ceiling as she pulled two thick mugs from another cabinet and added them to the tray.
Robert stilled, watching her, knowing that—like Eloise—Cook would not play games with him. She was also one of the few people in the city who already knew that Lord Robert Ashton spent his nights as Robbie Green.The planted seed.“About...”
Cook’s mouth tightened and she narrowed her eyes at him, as if she were a governess displeased with a petulant and disobedient child. “Ya young friend.”
“Ah.”
“Ah, my ruddy ass. What do ya think ya doing?”
He leaned one hip against the table. “What have you heard?”
She crossed her arms. “Never mind what I’ve heard. What are ya up about with that?” She nodded up toward the ceiling again. “’Cause I know ya ain’t like that?”
“Like what?”
She pursed her lips. “Ya ain’t about boys. I known ya too long.”
Plant a seed.He looked up at the ceiling. “I am trying to help a friend. We are searching for a young man. A younger brother. He disappeared Saturday night after wandering into Covent Garden. We need people to think that we are...”
Cook continued to stare at him, lips pursed, for a few minutes. Then she uncrossed her arms and draped a linen cloth over the tray. “Ya being a fool.”
“Possibly.”
“Definitely. I seen too many men not be able to come back from somethin’ like this.”
“I have to try. You will get the word out?”
Cook picked up the tray and handed it to him. “Aye. What’s his name? The brother.”
“Lord Timothy Surrey.”
She froze, then her eyes grew wide. “You mean the boy what vanished from Campion’s the night before old Bill was shot? The one ever’one knowsRobbieis looking for?”
Robert stared at her, then set down the tray. “Now youmusttell me what you have heard.”
“The whole Garden is buzzin’ with that. You don’t think it gets out this way? Are youtryin’to show ya ass to the world? There’s a constable been tearing up and down, asking questions, saying the boy is some earl’s heir. They say the only reason he ain’t hit Campion’s yet is because of Bill’s murder but will soon. Even heard that his sister has been pushin’—” She stopped, her eyes narrowing again as she leaned toward him. “If that boy is an earl’s heir, then he ain’t got no older brother.”
“I do not believe I said he did.”
“You are the devil incarnate.”
