Chapter Twenty-Seven

W here the devil is she?

By the time Leo completed his third rotation of the estate, he was certain something was wrong. Saffron had worked so hard to arrange the event. It was unlike her not to be bustling about. He'd even had to unsnarl two minor emergencies on his own, which further spiked his concerns.

Finally, he set out for her room again, taking the steps two at a time. When he arrived, the door was open, and Mrs. Banting was inside, talking to a fiery-haired maid.

"Where is she?" he barked, storming into the room.

"We aren't sure," Mrs. Banting replied. "I was just speaking to the maid assigned to assist her. Lily—"

"She would'nae let me see the note!" Lily cried. "I tried to tell her it was a bad idea, but she—" She broke off, lower lip trembling. Mrs. Banting patted her on the shoulder. "It is not your fault. A more stubborn girl I've never met. I doubt even I—"

Leo held up a hand. "Stop. Fill me in from the beginning. What note?"

The story tumbled out of the maid in pieces, with Mrs. Banting filling in when Lily broke into sobs.

"The footman came early, and then she called me. I tried to convince her, but she wouldn't budge."

Mrs. Banting squeezed the girl's shoulder. "Lily outfitted her with riding gear and a cloak, then came straight to me when she finished. I spoke to the footman, but he'd never seen the person who delivered it before. She took a gray mare and headed out. That's all we know."

Leo restrained himself from throttling the woman. It wasn't her fault that the situation was eerily familiar to the morning he'd woken up to learn Sabrina had gone on the cursed boat without him.

Not this time. I won't fail her the way I failed Sabrina.

He'd grown, changed. He wouldn't rush out on a horse, thick in denial, determined to solve the problem on his own. There were other people who cared about Saffron, and he would leverage every single one of them.

"Find Miss Summersby's sister and aunt," he said to Lily. "Maybe she told one of them where she was going." Then he faced Mrs. Banting. "Assemble as many servants as you can to climb to the top floor and look out the windows. If she's within eyesight, someone might see her."

*

Saffron walked along the shore, arms limp at her sides. She thought about going through the garden, trailing her fingers over the delicate buds. Instead, she made for the river where the small boats floated, the soft swish of water hitting their halls, the chains and bells jangling.

Thoughts flickered through her mind, too fast for her to track. Everything she'd feared had come true. Basil was dead. Angelica would marry the duke. Rosemary was content to rent a small room, supported by the small pension left by her late husband.

Where does that leave me?

She could stay the path. Put the thought of her brother and her sister behind her, and join Lady Allen as a companion, free to pursue her own interests, including being Leo's mistress.

Is that really what you want?

For the first time in longer than she could remember, Saffron considered herself as others saw her.

Strange. Fidgety. Unmarriageable.

But that wasn't right. She'd facilitated an important event despite a near stream of disruptions. She'd earned the trust of Leo's household staff. She'd explored her passions with a willing man and fallen in love.

With so many successes under her belt, why should she care what society thought of her?

A heavy weight seemed to slip from her shoulders, and she spun around, ready to return to the auction. She would remain at Leo's side, married or not.

That was when she saw the ship.

It sat in the bay, a silver chain draped over the edge, anchoring it. There was something about it that was so familiar, and as she rose and approached, her brows rose.

It was black, with a line of white near the top and a hint of red beneath the waves. Her heart stuttered. The figurehead was a man with a curling beard holding a round shield in one arm and a sword in the other, facing forward as if charging into battle.

It was the boat from the painting.

She picked up her pace, her heart pounding in her ears. Was it possible that the dowager was wrong, that Basil had survived the wreck?

She halted at the edge of the waterfront before she accidentally tumbled in and drowned. She had to be sure it was the same boat. She searched for a dinghy that she could use, while thinking she was mad for even considering such a thing. She didn't know whose boat it was. She had no proof that it had anything to do with her brother. But something inside her insisted she needed to get on the boat.

She followed the waterline, her eyes scouting the rocky shore, looking for a dinghy someone had left behind. Instead, she found a fisherman loading his tools into a small boat close to shore.

"Sir!" Saffron cried.

The man turned toward her, tilting his hat back from his head. "Aye, lady?"

Before she could answer, arms closed around her from behind, crushing her back against a heaving chest.

"There you are," Leo said, breathlessly. "Thank God."

Her earlier concerns forgotten, Saffron struggled out of his arms, then pointed to the boat. "Look! It's the same as the painting. How is that possible? Your mother said it crashed."

"It's just a ship, Saffron. Many of them look similar."

Why couldn't he understand? Even if it wasn't the same boat, she had to know. If she didn't find out, it would haunt her dreams, the possibility that Basil had been there, and she'd dismissed it.

Leo cupped her cheeks in his hands, then touched their foreheads together. "This is important to you?"

"Yes." Her voice sounded small and far away.

"Then it's important to me."

He released her, handed over a handful of heavy golden coins to the fisherman, then swooped down and picked her up in one smooth motion.

She squirmed in his grip. "W-What are you doing?"

Leo shuffled her in his arms then began walking toward the boat. His boots sank deep in the sludge with a loud, sucking sound.

Saffron's cheeks heated. She flexed her feet in her thin slippers. "Oh."

"You would never have made it," Leo said as he struggled through the deep mud. "Not without ruining that dress."

She crossed her arms. "I don't care about the dress."

"Nevertheless, gather it up before it gets wet. I don't want you to get sick."

She clutched the heavy fabric to her chest, but by the time he deposited her on the boat, she was filthy, with leaves sticking to her hair and dress, her hem completely soaked. She took a moment to rip off the bottom of her gown, muttering an apology for Lily for her treatment of the fine material, and then put it at the bottom of the boat.

As Leo took up the oars, she kept her eyes on the ship. It loomed over her like the Tower of London, casting a shadow on everything beneath it. The birds chirped, the waves lapped against the shore, and the trees creaked in the wind. She could smell the damp, rotten wood, and the salty sea air.

"I admit the resemblance is uncanny," Leo said as the small craft thumped against the side of the hull. "What is it doing here?"

"Let's board and see." Saffron knew she was being impulsive, but the excitement of their find simmered in her blood, making her jittery.

Leo tried to dissuade her, but she could tell from the way his eyes kept darting to the side that he was as curious as her.

"Help me up." She turned to the boat and placed her hands on the cold hull. There was no rope or ladder, but a life raft hung over the side above her head. With Leo's hands supporting her hips, she grabbed on to a trailing rope and hauled herself onto the deck, falling into it, her hands burning from the strain.

She didn't wait for Leo and ducked around beams holding the sails, walking to below decks, hoping to find some proof that it was the same one she had seen in Ravenmore's painting.

The boat rocked gently as she walked, and she had to clutch at ropes to keep from falling. Leo called her name, but she couldn't stop. Not when she was so close.

"Basil! Basil, are you here?"

She checked the first door in the hall but found nothing other than crew quarters strung up with hammocks and smelling like they needed desperately to be cleaned. Waving her hand in front of her face, she firmly closed the doors and continued. The largest door at the end of the hall was a wooden affair intricately carved with sailing imagery of waves and mermaids. She opened it and found mounds of white cloth that smelled strongly of oil.

She grasped the edge of one of the slick clothes and tugged it off.

There was no doubt. It was a Ravenmore. As she wiped the oil from her hand, she recognized Ravenmore's distinctive style. She sorted through the paintings. All were Ravenmore's.

Her heart sank. The ship had nothing to do with her brother. She pushed away her disappointment and focused on the significance of her discovery.

How did they get here?

She pressed her thumb into the scalloped edge of a frame. The wood was soft.

These are the originals.

Was the thief going from museum to museum, stealing artwork? If that were true, she would have heard about it in the paper. Unless, of course, the paintings had been replaced with forgeries.

She returned abovedeck and saw for the first time that black clouds loomed on the horizon.

Leo was beside the life raft, his head swiveling around, his hair loose and flying in the wind. When he spotted her, he grasped her upper arms in a gentle grip. "God, Saffron! Don't do that again." He made to pull her close, but she held out her arms to stop him.

"They're all here, Leo. All the Ravenmore paintings. Come see." She took his hand and drew him back to the room, then stood back as he inspected the canvases. Finally, he stood, his lips thin.

"I think we've discovered how our thief intends to escape."

"What do we do?" Saffron asked. They couldn't bring all the paintings back to land, not on the dinghy, and the ship was too big to bring to shore. How long did they have before the thief returned?

We can't do this alone.

"We need help," Leo said, in an uncanny echo of her thoughts. He slicked back his wet hair. "The constable. The village is a short row away. We can be across and back before the thief returns, God willing."

They returned to the deck and peered over the edge, where the dinghy floated. There was no ladder or other way to shimmy down.

"There must be a rope on this ship somewhere," Leo said. Then he glared at her. "Promise me you will not move from this spot until I return."

She promised, and she was still waiting, leaning against the railing, the howling wind drowning out the sound of the waves, when a clunk of heavy boots on the deck made her turn.

A tall man walked toward her, dressed in a green suit with bronze buttons and smiling with malice.

"You!" Saffron exclaimed, incredulous.

Mr. Percy, Leo's solicitor, made an exaggerated bow, then pulled a pistol out from behind his back and held it at his side.

A ha'penny from a fountain. Tarnished bronze. The exact color of Percy's suit. That's what the sick man meant.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Percy gestured toward the side of the boat with his pistol. He had closed the distance between them so that there was nowhere for her to escape.

Leo, where are you?

She hoped he was close by, waiting for a chance to attack Percy. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, casting her eyes carefully over her surroundings, searching for a weapon, or a glimpse of Leo.

"Searching for your lover?" Percy laughed, a nasty sound. "Don't bother."

"What have you done with him?" Saffron asked.

Percy whistled, then mimed a splash.

Oh, God, no.

She lunged forward, hands reaching for the pistol, but Percy was too quick. He struck her across the cheek with the weapon, sending her staggering to the deck. A hot rush of blood streamed out of her nose, and she clamped her hand to the tender side of her face.

"Don't do this!" she cried.

"Get up," Percy commanded.

Saffron struggled to her feet, one hand on the railing, the other on her nose. When she glanced up, Percy had backed away and lowered the pistol to his side.

"Damn woman," Percy said with a snarl. "If it weren't for you and your dogged interest in the Ravenmores, I could have convinced Briarwood to give up this auction nonsense. This is all your fault."

It wasn't true, of course, because Leo had caught on to the swapped paintings before she had met him. Perhaps Percy had settled on her as the source of his problems because he'd wanted a way to re-assert control over his failing plan. Regardless, she wasn't about to argue with a man holding a pistol.

"You should've died in that carriage," Percy said.

The accident.

"You gave me your invitation," she said, wiping blood from her cheek. The clues were piecing together in her mind to form a disturbing whole. There was only one road to Briarwood Manor. The perfect place for a trap.

"Enough talking," he said, gesturing with his other hand to the railing. "Over the side. I insist."

Saffron blindly reached for the rope holding the lifeboat while keeping her assailant in her field of vision. It took a few tries, but eventually, she caught hold.

She looked over the side of the boat and had only a second to secure herself before an ashy smell alerted her to the smoke trickling out of the entrance to the lower deck.

Fire. The ship is on fire.

"Damn you, woman, get off this ship," Percy said angrily. Then he sniffed, and his face paled. "Smoke. The paintings!" He whipped around and dashed for the doorway. Before he could reach it, Leo dove out of the shadows and tackled him.

A shot rang out, and Saffron screamed.