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“And just what do you think you are doing?”
Blast.
Choking on a mouth full of bread, Aston whipped around and offered a lopsided smile.
Wearing a lacy, beribboned nightcap and housecoat in an alarming shade of pink, Mrs. Longsdon glared. Arms folded above her generous bosom, she tapped her slippered toe.
“Well, Aston?”
Somewhere in the eight years he’d lodged with her, she’d begun calling him Aston when they were alone. He’d never dared address her as Pearl—her given name, however.
He lifted a forefinger, silently asking for her indulgence as he gulped half a mug of warm ale to wash down the gob wedged in his throat.
Mrs. Longsdon wasn’t just asking why he was sneaking about before dawn and pilfering food. She wanted to know where he’d been. Not that it was any of her business. But as she had since she’d taken him in all those years ago, she worried after him. He’d replaced the sons she’d lost in her affections.
Finally swallowing the bread, he chuckled as he set the mug on the table beside the remainder of his hasty meal. “I vow, you scared a decade off of me.”
She remained mulishly silent; those terrifying eyebrows snapped together in disapproval.
Still weary after his few restless hours of sleep, he rested a hip on the kitchen table and sighed. “My uncle died two days ago. Well, actually, it was in the early morning hours yesterday.”
Swiftly, he told her the basics but left out any reference to his search for Chasity.
At once, Mrs. Longsdon’s stern expression softened into compassionate folds. “And I’ll bet you haven’t had a decent meal in all that while, have you now?”
That was her answer to everything. A hearty meal. A strong pot of steaming tea or coffee. A few biscuits, pastries, or flaky tarts. Aston had learned long ago, that was how Mrs. Longsdon showed love. By cooking and feeding those she cared for.
Tsking and tutting under her breath, she bustled around the kitchen, lighting the stove and putting coffee on.
“Sit down, Aston. I’m not letting you leave without a full belly, even if it means I have to tie you to that chair.”
Aston wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t actually have done so.
Her critical gaze traveled to the meat pies he’d snatched for Roi and himself. “Am I right in supposing those pies are for that hairy beast upstairs?”
Aston gave her a chagrined grin. “One is.”
“Hmph.” Mrs. Longsdon shook her head, and her mobcap slipped to the side a bit. “At least you take him with you, and he doesn’t disturb my lodgers.”
She slapped several pieces of ham onto a skillet along with a half dozen sausages. Soon, the comforting aromas of food and coffee filled the air.
“By the by,” she said, setting butter and strawberry preserves on the table. “I have a new lodger.”
“Oh?” Aston asked disinterestedly, his mind fixed on finding Chasity.
He’d start by visiting Balderbrook’s Institution for Genteel Ladies and speaking with the other groom. Afterward, he’d call at the Trentholms’ residence again. He’d gone there yesterday, but the austere butler denied Chasity had been there. Later, Aston would check the employment registries and then the hotels and other lodging houses.
Good God, there had to be hundreds in London. It would take him weeks, and he did not have weeks. It wasn’t safe for Chasity to roam London unescorted. All manner of atrocious things could happen to a young woman wandering the streets.
Aston would need assistance in finding her. Before he set out today, he’d pen brief notes to his co-investors currently in town and impose upon them to use their connections to assist with the search.
Mrs. Longsdon poured him a glass of cold milk. She plunked it on the table, causing a splash of milk to trickle down the outside of the glass. Shoving the milk in front of him, she ordered in her no-nonsense tone, “Drink it. The coffee’s not ready yet.”
Aston knew what battles to fight, and this wasn’t one of them.
“Aye, aye.” Chuckling, he saluted before obediently taking a healthy swig.
Mrs. Longsdon’s mouth twitched, but heaven forbid she actually permitted a full smile at his jest.
