His hand closed over hers, but it was too late. She’d already got the door open, and with a quick wrench, she toppled into the warm, close Pomeroy House kitchen.
Arrayed around a low wooden table sat the four people who made up, as far as Ruby could tell, the rest of the staff at Pomeroy House.
The chef, Theophilus Wall, had his wife in his lap and four or five hounds at his feet. His broad arm was wrapped around Eugénie’s waist, and his chin was pressed to the top of her head.
Gerry and Lamentation—Ruby had not yet learned their surnames, though she knew by now that Gerry was the silent one with the ponytail and Lamentation the effusive one with the blond ringlets—lounged in wooden armchairs, dice in hand and boots entangled on the ground.
A pot bubbled on the hob, and when the aroma struck her nose, Ruby felt her knees wobble.
Whatever was in that pot was, easily, the most delicious thing she had ever smelled.
“Ah,” said Wall. He lifted his arm from Eugénie’s waist, and she slowly slithered out of his grasp. “Cap. I see you’ve done bathing.”
Lamentation dropped his dice, which bounced wildly across the table, and leapt to his feet. “Lady Ruby! What a... what a pleasant...” His eyes darted from Ruby to Captain Archer to the pot on the hob, and a look of guilty alarm passed across his face.
Ha!she thought triumphantly. She’d known it. Theywerekeeping the real food for themselves. For some inexplicable reason, the Pomeroy House staff had this delicious supper in the kitchen, and they did not want Ruby, Alice, and Tamsin to know about it.
There was no way Ruby could bring herself to pilfer walnuts from the larder now. Not now that she knew about the most ambrosial soup—stew?—in the entire world. Not when it was almost within her grasp.
Perhaps she could grab the pot and run. Perhaps she could—
“Lady Ruby was taking some exercise on the grounds,” Captain Archer said from behind her. To her extreme relief, he’d put on a shirt while she’d been drooling over stew. “We happened to encounter each other outside.”
“Entirely coincidental,” she chirped. Somehow she’d moved farther from Captain Archer and closer to the stew. “My, that smells delicious!”
“Do you think so?” Captain Archer prowled nearer. “I’ll tell the stable master you approve. It’s mash for the horses.”
Mash for the—
Surely not. There was no way she was literally slavering over a meal meant for equines. She hoped.
Captain Archer leaned in and smiled. His dimples flashed.
In response, Ruby narrowed her eyes. “Mash, is it? I visited the stables just a few days ago and did not notice any cattle.”
“They must have been out with the grooms.” He’d shaved regularly since the day of their arrival, but his whiskers grew quickly. She could see the black stubble on his jaw. “Taking deliveries. Carrying messages for House di Sangro. That sort of thing.”
“I see.” Ruby glanced down at the pot, which was full to the brim with tiny macaroni and fresh spring peas and cubes of bacon, all swimming in a creamy béchamel.
It wasnotmash. It looked like a pot filled with edible heaven, and she was not letting it go without a fight.
“If this is meant for the horses, perhaps I can deliver it myself.” She looked up and met Captain Archer’s brilliant blue eyes. “I do live to serve House di Sangro.”
There. Let the man weasel his way out of that.
He made a little humming sound, which seemed to vibrate somewhere in her belly. “As do I—and that includes, of course, the princess’s court ladies. I could not let you put yourself out. The grooms will take the mash when they settle the animals for the night.”
“Ah,” she said. “The grooms. To be sure. I should like to meet them, now that you mention it.” She glanced over at the table and its two remaining empty chairs. “Why don’t I wait upon their arrival?”
He drew even nearer. The sea-wind scent of him made her head spin, though perhaps that was an effect of her very gradual starvation over the previous twelve days. “Of course you should meet them. Perhaps tomorrow. They’ve gone all the way to Penzance today, and you might be waiting some hours.”
She tried not to grind her teeth. Hewasa weasel, and a scoundrel besides. “I adore waiting,” she said balefully, and plopped herself down into one of the spindly chairs.
She didnotadore waiting. But she was not leaving this room without the macaroni.
“Ah,” Archer said. “Certainly.” He looked at the assembled staff, and whatever they read in his face made them all scramble to their feet. And then, lazily, like some great predatory cat, he lowered himself into the chair beside her and extended his booted feet. He put his hands behind his head. “I shall wait here with you until the grooms arrive.”
His trousers were damp from his bath, and they clung to his thighs. Ruby looked resolutely away.
