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D aniel’s nonchalance faded in an instant. “Why?” he asked, tone sharp.

“Someone dosed the cook. I want to know whether it was out of concern for her health or something more sinister.”

Daniel took the cup and peered at the dregs inside, though he could scarcely see them in this light. “Why would someone want to poison the cook?”

“I don’t know, do I?” I demanded. “That is why I wish to be certain. Her ladyship—or whoever prepared the tea—perhaps wished to aid her to rest. My fancy might be wrong.”

“Your ideas usually aren’t wrong.” Daniel folded a handkerchief around the cup and tucked it into his pocket. “I will have this looked at right away and tell you the results tomorrow.” He put a hand on my arm. “I don’t like you in a house where people are dropping laudanum into teacups on a whim.”

“Do not worry—I am careful.” I decided I would not upset him with the fact that I’d discovered the doctored tea by drinking it myself. “Who on earth will you have test the substance late on the Saturday night before Easter?”

Daniel shrugged. “I know a number of men for whom one day is the same as another. Thanos, for instance, will break into a chemical lab at the Polytechnic if I ask him to.”

“He mustn’t get into any trouble,” I said quickly. “He was invited to Easter dinner with Lady Cynthia and the Bywaters, though I do not know if the invitation will extend to him coming to Lord Babcock’s meal. Rather unfair.” My annoyance at the situation resurged.

“I doubt he’ll mind.” Daniel flashed a smile. “His greatest disappointment would be not dining with Lady Cynthia, but he’ll mend.”

“It was highly inconvenient to all of us,” I growled. “But never mind. What’s done is done. I will prepare a fine dinner and then go home.”

“After you discover why the cook was given laudanum, of course.” Daniel’s eyes twinkled in the faint gaslight from the road.

I frowned at him. “Do go away if you will only tease me.”

Daniel laughed, which loosened me enough to smile back at him.

He ceased his laughter abruptly, stepped to me, and caught my mouth in a kiss.

I was too surprised to stop him, and truth to tell, I did not want to. I savored the warmth of it until Daniel eased back and regarded me with an unreadable look.

“Good night, Kat,” he said softly.

“Good night, Daniel.” I quickly turned and took my leave before I’d be tempted to stay.

I slept that night in a tiny room next to the butler’s pantry, which had obviously once been used for storing wine and other foodstuffs.

The wine bottles were gone, but their racks remained, a bunk shoved into the narrow space between them.

The nook was set up for when extra help was needed in the house, Mrs. Seabrook explained to me.

There was no room for Tess. Mary offered to let her bunk in with herself, Jane, and a downstairs maid, but Jane made her disapprobation known.

“I can barely sleep with you two kicking me,” Jane told Mary. “I don’t need a third pair of feet at me.”

“Tess can return to Mount Street for the night and walk back in the morning,” I intervened. “It is no great distance.”

That was true, but the night had grown dark, and Tess glanced nervously at the high windows. I helped her into her coat and guided her to the back door.

“Daniel is lurking,” I whispered to her. “He’ll see you home safe.”

Tess brightened at my words. “I’ll be here first thing,” she promised before she slipped out.

I hoped she’d treat herself to a good long rest, which was more than I’d obtain on the lumpy cot.

I was proved correct about the bed’s discomfort. I woke very early in the morning, out of sorts, but washed my face and hands, donned my clothes and apron, and entered the kitchen ready to work.

No one was stirring yet, and I got much done before the others, including Tess, arrived an hour later.

Mary and Jane were surprised that I had bread baking and hash frying for our breakfast, as well as the ham basted and ready for the oven.

Tess, used to my morning efficiency, simply hung up her hat and tied on her apron.

“Daniel has news for you,” Tess murmured to me when we had a moment alone.

“Is he outside?” I hoped so. A chat with Daniel would be a refreshing reprieve in an otherwise hectic morning.

Tess shook her head. “He says that nice Mr. Thanos is coming to dinner, and he’ll tell you.”

“Good.” I was disappointed I wouldn’t be able to rush up to the street and confer with Daniel, but I’d be glad to see Mr. Thanos. I was also happy he’d not be cheated out of his Easter dinner.

I had little time to ponder about what Mr. Thanos might have to say. After a quick repast, we cooked breakfast for those upstairs before continuing with the main meal of the day.

Breakfast for those above stairs meant plenty of fresh bread, toasted muffins with butter, a tureen of poached eggs, and some of the potato hash I’d made for the staff.

A tray with a small amount of all of this went up via Mrs. Seabrook to the lady of the house for breakfast in bed, while the rest of the family would help themselves from the dishes at the sideboard.

Mrs. Seabrook paused to study the tray I’d prepared for Lady Babcock. “It looks edible,” she said. She hadn’t yet sampled any breakfast, declaring it was her duty to serve her ladyship first.

“It’s delicious, Mrs. Seabrook,” Mary assured her. “At least the hash and the bread. Mrs. Holloway is a fine cook.”

Mrs. Seabrook glanced at Jane, who was less likely to gush at everything. “Best breakfast I’ve et in a good bit,” she said grudgingly.

Mrs. Seabrook lifted her brows but said nothing more as she continued out with the tray.

I set Jane to slicing potatoes Mary had diligently scrubbed, while Tess and I washed and tore apart the greens, which we’d keep crisp in water until they were served.

I slid the ham from the oven to add the carrots, onions, parsnips, and celery to the juices and set it all back in to continue roasting alongside the shank of mutton.

The quail, which would take less time to roast, I dressed and added to the oven.

As there were only six of them, these would have to be sliced apart to be shared as small servings.

The fish I’d ordered had been delivered, as fishermen, like domestics, were unable to take many holidays.

In addition to the ham, mutton, and quail, we’d have the first courses of oxtail soup and poached sole, then croquettes with a soubise sauce, which was a white sauce seasoned with cayenne and onions, to which I added a bit of bacon for a smoky flavor.

For the desserts, I set Mary to whipping cream—something uncomplicated for her—which I then sweetened with a touch of sugar. I sliced the strawberries myself to set on the cake that had survived the journey from Mount Street.

The pastries also needed to be iced, the ham basted, and stocks made into gravies and sauces. We bustled from table to oven to dresser and back, while Mary, once she’d whipped the cream to perfection, carried loads of pots and dishes to her sink in the scullery.

Mrs. Seabrook returned. “Her ladyship devoured her breakfast,” she declared. “First time in a long while.”

I was pleased she liked it. “How is Mrs. Morgan?” I’d sent a bit of hash and toasted muffin upstairs via Mary earlier, and she’d said the cook was awake though still weak.

“Too much to do this morning to look in on her,” Mrs. Seabrook snapped and marched out, though she slid the plate of food I’d prepared for her from the table as she went. We soon heard the slam of the door to the housekeeper’s parlor.

I was far too busy to look in on Mrs. Morgan myself, but I told Mary to nip upstairs and retrieve the tray. I’d put a hearty cup of tea, one without laudanum, on it, with instructions to Mary that the cook was not to drink or eat anything that I didn’t send her myself.

Mary returned while Tess was removing another fresh-baked loaf from the oven, the bread’s odor inviting.

“Cook et it all.” Mary showed me the tray with its empty plates. “She’s feeling a bit better, but I don’t think she’ll be down to help us today.”

That was just as well, I decided. Two strong-minded cooks in one kitchen simply got in each other’s way.

“She says she wants to have a chat with you soon,” Mary went on. “She’s worried about the dinner, I think.”

We were well into the most critical parts of the meal, everything needing to come together in a moment, so I could not rush upstairs and reassure Mrs. Morgan right now. I’d wait until the last course went upstairs, then I’d take her a piece of strawberry cake and tell her that all was well.

I was pleased that we’d begun moving like a well-oiled machine, differences put aside in the rush to finish the meal.

Even Jane ceased her antagonism and quietly chopped, stirred, and iced what I put in front of her.

Tess was invaluable with her knowledge of what needed to be tended first, which she’d learned in her years of working for me.

Mary, who left her sink from time to time to scurry halfway up the outside stairs, reported on the guests’ arrivals.

“There’s that pretty Lady Cynthia, with her aunt and uncle,” Mary announced when she descended. “I hear she wears trousers, but she’s in a frock like anyone else.” She sounded disappointed. “A black-haired man came with them. Maybe her sweetheart?”

Mr. Thanos, I thought in relief. Mrs. Bywater hadn’t, in the end, stopped him coming. Mr. Thanos got along well with almost everyone, so I didn’t worry about him much.

Other guests included a bishop in a purple waistcoat and dog collar, one of the Babcocks’ cousins, a few ladies and gentlemen who were friends of Lord Alfred and Lady Margaret, and Lady Babcock’s maiden aunt. A commoner, Mrs. Seabrook sniffed on her way through. Nobody.

Mr. and Mrs. Bywater were commoners as well, I reflected, but they were blood related to a daughter of an earl, so perhaps they were spared Mrs. Seabrook’s complete disdain.

I’d already heard Mrs. Seabrook refer to Mrs. Bywater as Lady Babcock’s silly friend , which meant she didn’t think much of her, in any case.

Mrs. Seabrook said that the guests would converse in the drawing room with whatever drinks Lord Babcock served them, then they’d move to the dining room.

In the kitchen, we hurriedly put the soup into the dumbwaiter, and I cranked it upstairs to where Armitage, who’d slid into a frock coat and hurried up a quarter of an hour ago, would be poised to retrieve it.

The fish went up soon after, and then the ham came out of the oven in all its glory.

I refused to let the others help me transfer it to the large platter that would be its final resting place. I settled the platter on a tray then added roasted potatoes, spring cherries in aspic, and a pot of the jelly sauce that would accompany it all.

I carried the tray carefully to the dumbwaiter, while Tess, Mary, and Jane watched proudly. I had just slid the ham and its trimmings into the dumbwaiter’s box and shut its door when Mrs. Seabrook hastened into the kitchen.

“Put it all away,” Mrs. Seabrook commanded. “The dinner is off.”

I froze with my fingers around the dumbwaiter’s door handle, certain I hadn’t heard her aright. Tess and Jane fell equally silent behind me. The outburst, when it came, was from Mary.

“What d’ya mean it’s off?” she screeched. “We worked ever so hard. I scrubbed all them tatties!”

I heard Mrs. Seabrook’s swift movement and swung around in time to seize her upraised arm before she could strike Mary, who flinched away from her.

“What has happened?” I demanded, releasing the indignant Mrs. Seabrook. At least she let her hand fall and did not try again to hit Mary. “A family does not dismiss an entire meal on a whim, especially not on a feast day. Is someone ill?”

Mrs. Seabrook drew herself up. “Lord Alfred has died,” she told me in a hard voice.

The four of us stared at her in shock. Mrs. Seabrook’s eyes were red-rimmed, and her breath came fast.

Died? I repeated to myself. Lord Alfred, the marquess’s heir, was a young man, as Mary had informed us.

Mary gasped in stunned dismay. “His young lordship? Can’t be. You’ve made a mistake.”

Mrs. Seabrook rounded on her as though she’d box Mary’s ears, but fortunately, she did no such thing. “It is not a mistake, you stupid girl. He is dead, and his lordship has canceled the meal.”

“Poor man.” Tess was the only one of us jarred out of our amazement to express sympathy. “Was he sickly? Or frail? Sometimes people just fall over, like, no matter how young.”

“He weren’t frail.” Mary scoffed. “His young lordship is robust and hearty. Rides every morning, don’t he? So handsome, always with a kind word for me. It must have been the fish.” Her voice broke, and she buried her face in her apron and began to weep.

“It was not the fish,” I said immediately. Cooks were prone to be the first blamed when someone grew peaky over their supper. “It was delivered fresh, and I checked it thoroughly. It was sweet as can be. I taste every dish before it’s plated, and I am right as rain.”

“He never ate the fish, you silly woman,” Mrs. Seabrook snapped.

“He was wandering about the hall as they all went into dine, telling me his stomach was a bit achy and that the others should begin without him. I was clearing up in the drawing room when I heard the front door open, but no one was announced. When I came out to see who the footman had admitted, I found the door wide open and Lord Alfred dead on the floor.”

Mrs. Seabrook drew a sharp breath, as though the impact of finding him was just coming to her. She needed a strong cup of tea, though I was too dazed to pour her one at the moment.

Mary continued to sob, but Jane was utterly still, her face draining of color until it was nearly green.

“Did his heart give out?” Tess asked gently. “I had a cousin who swore he was only dyspeptic one day, but he died that evening, sleeping in a chair by the fire.”

“I doubt it,” Mrs. Seabrook retorted. “He was stabbed, wasn’t he? A tramp, who’d been skulking about outside all night, came right into our house and struck him with a knife. Now, take away all this food, Mrs. Holloway. We won’t be needing it.”