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Lucy leaned into him. “We are hunting an assassin, Master Wendel, one who struck again yesterday with ratsbane.”
His eyes opened wide. “The queen?” he whispered.
“Is well,” she said. “It was detected before anything could befall her.”
“Thank the good Lord,” he murmured.
“Did anyone buy ratsbane recently?”
“Aye,” he said, and Greer moved closer.
“Did they say what was the purpose?” Greer asked.
The man narrowed his eyes. “Well, no one said, ‘Wrap me up some ratsbane so I can poison the queen.’” He looked at Lucy and then up at the ceiling, thinking, and Greer and Lucy were unfortunately afforded a fine view of the wild hairs growing in his nostrils.
“The man asked for a small amount. I thought he might have mice.”
“Did he give ye a name?” Greer asked.
“Nay, but I knew him.” He nodded to Lucy. “He wore richer clothes like a gentleman, with a cap and everything, but he was that butler of yours, Lady Lucy.”
“Simmons?” she whispered.
“Aye. He’s come here off and on for years for your mother. Well… before.”
“Thank you, Master Wendel,” Lucy said and set a coin on his counter, which the man quickly tucked away.
“He also bought rose-scented soap,” Wendell added. “And something with spice that he said he planned to use on furniture to stop dogs from chewing it.”
With Pip and Percy working their puppy teeth out, that certainly sounded like Simmons. Greer escorted Lucy out of the shop where she walked around the corner to rest against the rail over the water.
“Simmons was buying poison?” she said, her words numb.
“Are there mice at Cranfield House?”
She shook her head, her face slack. “Never.”
He offered her his arm and then dropped it when he realized how it would look for him leading a lad along like a courtly lady. “He could be only wanting to poison Nick’s cocks,” Greer said. That would be horrible for Lucy, too, but at least it wouldn’t make her trusted housekeeper a traitor.
“We need to ask him,” she said, striding forward. The gentle sway of her hips was obvious even in her trousers.
No words passed between them as they made their way across the city to St. Martin’s Lane. They circled behind Cranfield House, stopping when they heard a voice.
Greer leaned up against Lucy to look over her head around the corner. The warmth of her against him made his chest squeeze.Bloody hell.Why couldn’t he focus? All he wanted to do was take Lucy back to Norfolk’s house and hold her close until everything between them was good and easy again.
“Sit and stay,” Simmons said where he stood with Pip and Percy in the snow.
“They are doing wonderfully,” Catherine said. “We must give them a sweet.”
“Sweets aren’t healthy for dogs,” Alyce said next to her.
Nick hopped down the plank leading up to the chicken coop with such gusto that the two pups broke rank and ran to play with him. Simmons frowned, his hands on his hips. “This is training time, young man,” Simmons called.
Nick ran back where Pip and Percy had stood. “Sit,” he ordered.
“Now make the sit signal,” Simmons said, his voice even like a tutor instructing his pupil on an arithmetic equation.
Nick tipped his pinched fingers up. “Sit.” The two dogs sat in unison. Catherine hopped up and down, clapping, making the dogs rise again.
