Chapter Twenty-Three

S affron crouched in front of a steamer trunk and flipped open the lid. She bent over the edge, up to her elbows in slippery fabric, and pushed the material around, tugging a section free to inspect it before moving on.

She knew she was procrastinating, throwing herself into activity to avoid thinking about how she had failed. Her sister and aunt were right. The painting was a coincidence. Now she had to decide her own future and if it would include Leo.

"Where are you?" she muttered, tapping her closed fists against the rim of the trunk. She reached all the way to the bottom on one side, then the other before giving up and hefting the contents into her arms and onto the floor.

Leo had communicated his intentions clearly, and on several occasions, but she still wanted more. She had no one to blame but herself.

She dug through the mountain of fabric until she found one of the evening gowns Lily had repaired. She shook out the fabric, then laid the dress on the bed, smoothing out a wrinkle.

There was no longer a reason to help Leo, but she'd given her word. She remembered the man, thrashing about in his bed, spittle flying from his lips. Had they waited too long, and the fever had damaged his mind?

She found a pair of slippers and placed them at the foot of the bed, then picked up a needle and thread from her drawer and set to work repairing a new hole in Angelica's last pair of white gloves, one of the few items they had not ordered replacements for. Her stitches were small and precise, borne of long practice.

A ha'penny from a fountain. That's what the man had said.

What does a ha'penny look like, after it's been sitting at the bottom of a fountain for a few years?

"You know, there are maids here who could do this," Angelica said, interrupting her thoughts.

Saffron smiled at her sister. "I don't mind. And anyway, soon, I won't get to do this anymore and I will miss selecting your evening wear."

Angelica tugged off the skirt and bodice of her gown and dropped them into a pile. "Everyone treats you like a servant."

She collected her sister's discarded clothing, folded it, and set it aside. "I chose this life, sister. No one forced me to do anything."

"It's just not right. Neither of us has a dowry, and yet you are treated differently. It makes me so mad." Angelica kicked off her slippers with such force, they flew across the room and hit the wall.

Saffron put her hands on her sister's shoulders. "The world is not always fair. I've accepted my lot in this life."

Angelica crossed her arms and pouted, but Saffron continued to style her hair and put her together for the night's festivities. She could have asked Lily or another of the maids, but she enjoyed doing it, on occasion. When she finished, she helped her sister into her gown as Angelica smoothed her hands over her bodice, her face full of wonder. Saffron couldn't blame her. The dress was radiant.

The sapphire-hued gown had puffed sleeves and a low neckline. The pale-blue silk underdress was of the finest material she had ever felt, and beneath were a full three layers of petticoats. The skirt was gathered in pleats around the waist and fell to the floor in alternating flounces such that made her look like she was standing in a spray of seafoam.

"It needs one more thing," Saffron said, reaching into her pocket to withdraw a small box. When she opened it, Angelica gasped.

"Mother's brooch?" Angelica said, a note of awe in her voice. "Are you sure? You are the eldest. You should be the one to wear it."

"Nonsense." She affixed the delicate ornament to her sister's dress, marveling at how the quivering brooch reflected the candlelight. It was made of diamonds and sapphires formed with silver wire into a bouquet, set on delicate springs so with every breath, the jewels quivered, catching the light and sparkling.

"All eyes will be on you tonight," she said, placing the last pin. Their father had bought the brooch at great expense during his courtship of his future wife. Angelica had coveted it for years, but Saffron had insisted they save it for a special occasion.

Tonight is that occasion.

"They won't know what to do with you." She pulled the ribbons of her sister's bodice tight enough to support the weight of the gown, but not so tight she would have difficulty breathing.

"It should be you in the spotlight, not me," Angelica whispered. Saffron pulled the ribbons tighter, and her sister fell silent, aside from an occasional muttered curse.

"Keep your distance from the gaslights," she said. She selected an ivory comb carved into the shape of a butterfly from the vanity and slotted it into her sister's hair until it sat like a tiara.

Angelica wrinkled her nose. "I have no wish to light up like a candle." She rose and stood in front of the full-length mirror beside the vanity. She made a small twirl, sending the brooch on her bodice into movement. "Oh, sister. I feel like a princess."

Saffron pulled her sister into her arms, mindful of the care she'd put into her garb, and kissed the top of her head. "You are a princess." She paused. "Mr. Mayweather will be in awe."

Angelica's expression shuttered. "His opinion is of no consequence. I am betrothed."

"You don't have to do this," Saffron said. "Lady Allen has offered me a position. Mr. Mayweather might not be wealthy, but I know you care for him."

Angelica sighed. "You don't understand. I'm doing this for all of us. We will never have to worry about money again."

"But Lord Canterbury will—"

Angelica twisted out of her grip. "I will hear nothing more about His Grace."

As Angelica left, Saffron looked out the window at the dark-red sky. A storm was brewing.

"Deep thoughts?" Rosemary asked, entering the room and settling onto the bed. "Tell me what worries you. I have some experience in matters of the heart."

Saffron stared at her reflection in the mirror. Rosemary was right. Her skin was washed out and there were large bags around her eyes that even Lily had not been able to hide.

"I'm in love with Lord Briarwood," she said. Saying the words clicked something into place in her heart, as if by saying them, she confirmed the reality of her situation. "I love how much he cares. I love how sensitive he is beneath the gruff exterior. I love how safe I feel in his arms." She dashed away her tears. "But he won't marry me."

Rosemary touched a finger to her cheek. "You've always been sensitive, ever since you were a girl." Rosemary's expression softened. "Marriage was not at all what I expected. I loved my first husband, in my own way. I'd never felt that way for a man before. He wanted a little wife he could stash away in the country and raise a brood of children to ensure his legacy. When time passed and I did not become with child, we were both devastated. But I do not regret my choice, no matter what heartbreak it has brought me."

Saffron ached for her aunt, who had suffered so much. She wanted to offer comfort, but before she could, Rosemary returned to her normal, icy demeanor. "What is your plan, then? You have a plan for everything."

She flushed. "Lady Allen showed me there's another way."

Rosemary chuckled. "I can see why you are torn. Lady Allen is a beautiful woman. I knew her husband. He was not a man I would have chosen for either you or your sister." She breathed a long sigh. "I know you do not approve of His Grace. But I believe in your sister. If anyone can bring the man to heel, it is Angelica." Her aunt wrapped her in a hug. "You are not my daughter, but some days I wish you were. I see the pain in you, and I wish I could take it away. Follow your heart, my dear."

Saffron sniffed. "Thank you." She pulled back and inspected her aunt's expression, seeing a mixture of sadness and guilt. The latter made her pause. "There's something else, isn't there, aunt?"

Rosemary stood. "It is time for you to know the truth. I pray God will forgive me for how long I've kept this from you." She withdrew through the adjoining room and returned holding a red, varnished box with the outline of a silver fox inlaid in the lid.

Basil's old letterbox.

Saffron accepted the small box and placed it in her lap. "Where did you find it?"

"I've had it all along. Please understand, I only wanted to protect you."

Saffron tilted open the lid and took out a stack of letters wrapped in a golden ribbon. Swallowing her apprehension, she unwound the ribbon and opened the first of the letters.

Sister,

It is difficult to find the space to write in my small compartment on the train, but I know you would wish to hear from me, so I borrowed a traveling writing desk from a fellow Englishman. My winnings are small, but I hope they are enough to help.

I will be home for Christmas. I cannot wait to see you and Angelica.

Basil

The date was only a few weeks after his departure. She flipped to the last letter in the stack, tearing it open with trembling fingers.

Sister,

I have been a fool.

I should never have left you, even though I feared the responsibilities of my title. I've returned to London but cannot bear the shame of facing you all. Please allow me a few days to compose myself, and then I will again take up the mantle of our family title.

There is a small bit of good news. I have met the most amazing woman. She is a painter, and a talented one. When I have summoned my strength, I will bring her to meet you.

Basil

She sobbed, holding the letter to her chest.

"Where is he?" she demanded of her aunt.

"He's dead," Rosemary said, dabbing her cheeks with a handkerchief. "The letters stopped after his body was found."

Saffron placed the letters back in the box and replaced the lid. "You lied to me." She held back the brimming anger that threatened to boil over and consume her.

Rosemary twisted her handkerchief. "Yes."

"Why would you hide this from us?"

"I am well familiar with the kind of man who cannot keep his promises," Rosemary said, standing. "Basil would never have returned. If you believe otherwise, you're still a child."

"Get out," Saffron said, dashing her tears away. "Leave me alone."

She had been betrayed after all, and not only by Basil.