Chapter Twenty-Two

S affron clutched Leo's arm as they navigated the ruts in the road.

"Are we not taking the carriage?" she asked.

Leo smiled. "I thought perhaps you would approve if we chose the scenic route. Although…" He gestured to the trio of muttering maids who followed them, picking their way through the muck. Saffron had enlisted them as impromptu chaperones, as they had been heading into town anyway. "They might not appreciate it as much."

As they got closer to what Saffron thought was a town, she spied a bramble of flowers. She walked closer, taking in their varied perfumes.

"This town is known for its gardens," Leo said. Then he took her hand and pulled her into the maze, leaving behind the giggles of the maids. They stopped in a small clearing, surrounded by clinging vines braided into patterns. She reached out and touched a petal, and a drop of water splattered in a puddle. The path led straight ahead, then branched to the left and right with tall hedges forming walls around them.

"It is so beautiful here," she said.

A dozen starlings settled onto a cherry tree nearby and chittered at them.

They must be used to being fed.

She pulled a bow of the tree down and released it, spraying small cherries to the ground. The birds fluttered away, then returned, falling on the fruit, and pecking them to pieces.

"Come," Leo said, taking her hand and placing it on his arm. "We're nearly there."

"The town?" she asked.

He nodded. "I thought this was a good opportunity for us to see if the injured man is awake."

"Oh," she said. "Yes. Of course."

They exited the maze and rejoined the maids to walk into town. There, he drew her through the crowd of merchants along the road and directly toward a particular vendor. An old woman sat in front of steaming buns, smiling a gap-toothed smile at them. He handed her a coin, and the woman passed over two white, steaming buns.

Saffron accepted one and held it in her cupped hands. It had a pillowy texture and a yeasty smell. She laughed in delight. "Saffron buns. How did you know I was named after these? My mother loved them."

"I didn't." Taking a bite out of his own bun, he gestured for her to continue walking through the streets. "But when I remembered that this town had a market, I thought you might enjoy it."

As she walked, the steady wash of waves hit the embankment, along with the crunch of wheels on gravel and the muted chatter of voices. She knew he was giving her a chance to change her mind, to avoid talking to the man who might be their thief.

"What are you going to do after the auction?" Leo asked suddenly.

She swallowed the last of her bun, which turned sour in her stomach at his question. "I was considering employment with Lady Allen as a lady's companion."

"There are better options."

She pulled her hand away from his arm and took a few steps in front of him, distancing herself from him and his impertinent questions.

"Let's walk by the shore," she said.

They walked arm and arm toward the bluffs. The seagulls squalled and dove as children threw bits of bread for them, white flashes against the blue sky. She stood behind a gaggle of children and watched them indulgently.

She could easily imagine they were her own, with her husband at her side.

But he didn't want her as his wife.

She could understand why. Society called her odd. What viscount would want a wife who barely tolerated crowds, who had attacks that rendered her unable to speak? She was, quite simply, unmarriageable.

"Are you ready?" Leo asked.

She swallowed heavily. "Yes."

*

The smell was the first thing to hit Saffron when they stopped at the closed door at the back of the church. Sour and astringent at the same time, with the foul undertone of rot. It made her gasp and clutch Leo's arm.

"You don't have to do this," Leo said, in a low voice. "I can question him."

Saffron blew out a breath. "No. I want to hear what he has to say myself."

The odor of decay was strong, but she had been through worse. The Thames itself was so rancid that passing over bridges was an exercise in self-control. Many of the city's poorer citizens had to wear cloth across their faces during the hottest days of the year.

That gave her an idea. "May I have your cravat?"

He frowned, touched his neck, then removed the long cloth and pressed it into her hands. She wrapped it around her nose and mouth, and the difference was immediate. The smell was still there, but duller, and drowned out by the rich scent of Leo's cologne.

"Better?" he asked, with a smile. The collar of his vest gaped without the cloth, making him look even more the rogue.

Rather than respond, she placed her hand on the doorknob and turned.

The door creaked open, shining light into the dark, cramped room that held a single bed, chair, and table. A white-garbed older woman was slumped in the chair, but as the light hit her face, she startled and rose to her feet.

"We wish to speak to the man," Leo said.

"I am his nurse," the woman said, stepping between them and the narrow bed. "He's back with fever. You might not get any sense out of him."

Such bravery.

Even with Leo's rumpled appearance, he was recognizable as a lord, if not as the viscount himself. Yet the woman still stood in their way, protective of her charge.

"We will not stay long," Saffron said.

The nurse twisted her hands together, then stepped away, giving them their first look at their suspect. She recognized him as the driver of their carriage, even though his skin was as pale as the grimy sheets beneath him, and his brown hair was plastered to his head. His eyes were closed, but as Leo stepped closer, they flew open.

"What d'ye want?" he croaked.

"You broke into Briarwood," Leo said. From his tone, it was clear he wasn't asking.

"Aye." The man coughed, spraying his sheets with a fine mist of red. "Shouldn't have taken that job. Skittish horse in a storm."

"Foolish, indeed," Leo said. "Who paid you?"

The man thrashed on the bed, his eyes rolling around in his head. "Scrawny, rough voice, looking loike a ha'penny from a fountain. Should've spat in his ale. Wasnae worth the boat."

Fountain? Boat?

"That's enough, my lord," the woman in white said. Her cheeks were flaming red, and she held a dripping rag in her hand.

Saffron felt the tension in Leo's arm and knew he was going to argue. She also saw the lines of worry on the nurse's face.

"We should return," Saffron said.

Leo patted her hand, all tension in his arm gone. "Of course."

They left the church and followed the road the way they had come, skipping the gardens and the market. They were walking past some trees when Leo threw up his arm in front of her. "Do you see those tracks?"

He leaned closer to the trees at the side of the road and moved some greenery aside with his hand. There was a clear imprint of horse hooves in the mud. He pushed his head through a tangle of branches to reveal the prints trailed away through a small path.

"What does it mean?" she asked.

They gingerly stepped through the mud, following the tracks until they reached the side of a river. He looked up and down the riverbed. "There was a boat docked here recently."

Just like the sick man said.

"Whoever it was, they are long gone," Leo said. "Let's return to the house. I'll send out volunteers to search for more clues, but I suspect our thief is still one step ahead of us."