Chapter 4Chocolate biscuits did not exist. But small fruit-laden plum cakes did, along with a caraway-seed morning cake, a solid cheddar, sturdy bread, and, possibly in honor of the Midwinter season, a small mountain of spiced molasses-soft gingerbread.
John pounced on the last of those offerings with sheer delight. “Spiced and festive. Does she know you at all? Or perhaps she does, and she’s trying to help.”
Sam had been into the townhouse’s kitchens often—Mrs. Crewe left him plates and notes, to which he dutifully responded—but tended to eat when hungry or aware he should, and then clean up, depart, and not consider sneaky hidden motivations regarding holiday festivity. “She knew I was out tonight, as far as supper…you didn’t want anything more substantial, did you? I could…”
He wasn’
