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“He ate some of our food?” Evie was confused. “And then what happened?”
“He dropped dead!”
The cook was not making any sense. “Please, call on the doctor,” Evie said to her butler and then turned back to the cook. “Mrs…” she faltered. To her shame, she realized she hadn’t even learned her name. She’d lived in this house for over a fortnight, and she didn’t know her servants. What a wreck she’d been. “Would you mind coming with me?”
The cook nodded, and they proceeded out of the room. They settled into one of the drawing rooms.
“I apologize,” Evie said. “I haven’t even learned your name. I know I have not been the perfect mistress, but I’ve been grieving.” She tried to compose herself, but her voice was still shaking.
“Mrs. Farley,” the cook answered.
“Mrs. Farley, can you tell me what happened in the kitchen?”
“We have a rule,” she said, eyeing Evie warily. “We have our own food. We don’t eat what we cook for our masters.”
“Right, but how did the footman die?”
“He ate your fish.”
Evie stilled, barely breathing. “And then just died?”
“Yes.”
Evie shot up from the chair. “Have you seen my husband?”
“No, Your Grace.” The cook’s eyes ran nervously about the room. Evie was certain she thought her deranged. But it didn’t matter now. She needed to find her husband. Evie ran out of the room without another word. She ordered the footman not to let the cook out of his sight and hurried toward her room, to change, when the front door burst open, and Julie ran into the hall.
“Thank God, you are home!” she yelled. “Gabriel is headed for a duel!”
