Chapter 6 #3
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 was not mash. 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. He was a weasel, and a scoundrel besides. “I adore waiting,” she said balefully, and plopped herself down into one of the spindly chairs.
She did not adore 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.
She knew what he was doing. She could see right through him. If he remained at her side, she could neither dive into the pot of macaroni nor steal it for Alice and Tamsin. He was smiling at her, the great smug lout.
Perhaps she could pretend a fondness for horse mash. How would he react if she stood up, crossed the room, and locked eyes with him while she slowly consumed an entire pot of food ostensibly for equines?
“While we wait,” Archer said, “perhaps you can tell me more about Princess Serafina. I’ve never met her.”
That was convenient, as neither had Ruby.
The room had emptied while they spoke, but before Ruby could summon some half-remembered details about the princess, Lamentation caromed back. He gave the general impression of springs all over—his curls fluttered as he bounced up and down on his heels.
“Cap,” he gasped, “we need you.”
Archer looked from Lamentation to Ruby to the macaroni. “I wouldn’t like to leave Lady Ruby alone.”
Visions of bacon danced in her head. “Oh no,” she said, “please. Do go on. Your footman needs assistance. I shall be fine here.”
“I must insist—”
Lamentation cast an agonized glance at them both. “We really need you. Lady Ruby can return to her companions.”
“Yes, of course.” Ruby waved a hand at the door. “I’ll follow just behind you. Don’t mind me.”
Archer cupped her elbow. “Perhaps Lady Ruby can come with us.”
“That would not be wise,” Lamentation said in a strangled voice.
Ruby plucked her elbow from Captain Archer’s warm, callused grip. “Why not?”
“Because . . .” Lamentation looked helplessly around the room. “Because . . . we’ve been attacked.”
“Attacked?” Archer echoed. His whole body tensed, even though Ruby was fairly certain he knew as well as she did that Lamentation was lying through his teeth.
“Yes!” Lamentation exclaimed. “Attacked. By the Scourge of St. Petroc’s!”