Chapter Eight

L eo stood in front of a mirror in the small dressing room attached to his bedchamber and tugged his cravat from his neck. He dropped it onto a growing pile of colorful fabric, then kicked the pile into a corner.

His butler stood behind him. "Are you certain you wish to dress yourself, my lord?"

"Do you have to ask me that every time?" Leo asked.

Sinclair's eyebrows rose. "You do not have a valet, my lord."

"Then I'll hire one. As soon as the auction is over. For now, I do not wish to be disturbed."

The butler's lips thinned, but he nodded, then left.

Is this what it is like to be a viscount? Leo stared at his reflection in the scuffed mirror hanging from the wall, and another cravat that didn't match the waistcoat he wore. To have not a moment for yourself?

When he'd inherited the title, he'd issued instructions that any matters pertaining to the viscountcy continue as they had. He'd been so mired in grief that it had seemed a sensible decision. But with a parade of guests about to descend upon a house that was, by all reports, in a serious state of neglect, he wondered if he'd made a mistake.

The only rooms you ever cared about were your bedroom and studio.

His mind flickered back to Saffron, and he wondered how she had gotten on. The last time he'd seen her, she had worn an expression of betrayal as she'd been shuffled away by the housekeeper. He remembered what it felt like to hold her, steal her lips. It had taken every ounce of his self-control not to tumble her onto the bare floors of the cottage.

He couldn't wait to do it again.

A knock came at his door. He sighed and chose a cravat at random, hastily knotting it before opening the door. Sinclair stood in the hallway, clutching a key in both hands.

"I instructed you not to disturb me," Leo said. "Although I suppose it is too late now. What is the problem?"

"You must come at once. The-The woman, Miss Summersby, she—" Sinclair, normally stolid and unflappable, stuttered. "You must come at once."

It had been a long time since he'd seen anything get under Sinclair's skin, and it made him unaccountably amused, and even more curious about what Saffron had done to earn such a reaction.

He followed his butler out the door as the man continued to babble about Miss Summersby's unspecified, unacceptable behavior. By the time they'd stopped at the entrance to his office, he half-expected to find her laid out in the nude on the settee.

Not unless this is a dream.

"Please, my lord, rectify this before your guests arrive," Sinclair said, pointing to the closed doors. "It is unseemly. For a lady to indulge in such matters."

Leo leaned closer. He could make out muffled voices coming from within. When he touched a hand to the door, it was warm.

"I hardly know what to expect," he said, fingering the deep grooves on the door. "What could one woman do that would cause you such distress?"

Sinclair huffed, then turned on his heel and stormed away.

Pushing aside his amusement, he opened the door and peeked inside. Saffron was seated at his desk, bent over an open book. Long strands of black hair hung limply by her cheek.

He closed the door as softly as he could, then stepped into the shadow of a wardrobe.

His eyes burned as he watched her. She wore one of Sabrina's old gowns, which was a surprise, as he hadn't known there were any left in the house. It was a significant improvement from the gray dresses she had worn before. The emerald hues made her look every bit the lady of the house.

Her color was better, too. Given her slender physique, he had worried the rain might have left her drained.

"What would you say for luncheon, then, madam?"

His housekeeper sat on a stool before the roaring hearth, clutching a small, leatherbound notebook in her hand and a pencil in the other. As Saffron spoke, Mrs. Banting frantically scribbled.

Saffron tapped her fingers on the desk. "A light fare for the ladies. Bread and cold meats."

His housekeeper's hand flew as she jotted down notes, her feet kicking back and forth.

"Do you have a seating plan for dinner?" Saffron asked. Then she sniffed. "No, of course not. Well, I believe there was something…" She shuffled through the papers on his desk, then selected a sheet and raised it in her hands. "Ah, here it is." She bent over a piece of paper and sketched something out. "It is best to keep the quieter guests spread out between those who are more social. In that way, we can ensure a better experience for all."

She patted the ink on her parchment dry with some setting powder and then passed it over to his housekeeper, who gripped it as if it were a ten-pound note. In less than an hour, Saffron had secured the trust of one of the most important members of his household.

Wasn't that interesting?

"It seems as if you have everything under control here," he said.

Saffron jumped out of the chair at the sound of his voice. Her hands flew to her face, tucking the stray strands of hair behind her ears. He wished she hadn't. She looked adorably distracted and rumpled. His loins stirred at the thought of her splayed beneath him on his bed, her dark hair an inky blot on his white linens.

"I'm terribly sorry," she said, pushing her chair back from behind his desk so quickly, it squealed on the floor. "You appeared to need someone to handle the logistics, and I was free."

"I appreciate the help," he said. "Share with me your magic so I may continue the excellent work you have done. Surely, you are my fairy godmother come to grant my wishes before the ball begins."

She slapped a hand over her lips to hide her grin. A flush spilled over her cheeks, and his eyes dropped to the cream lace at her bust.

He would buy her pearls, he decided. A string of pearls to wrap around her neck and trail down into her décolletage. Then he would follow the path of those pearls with his lips and tongue.

As if reading his thoughts, she spun around. All the better. He gazed at her back, imagining the curves that lay beneath her many layers of clothing. The lobes of her rear fit perfectly in his hands, and she was tall enough that when he held her close, her head tucked just beneath his chin.

She clasped Mrs. Banting's hands. "If you require further help, please know that you can call on me."

His housekeeper adjusted her spectacles on her nose, repeated her thanks, then made for the door.

"If you don't mind me saying so, milord," she said to Leo, holding her precious notebook to her chest. "Hold on to that one. She has a right smart head on her shoulders. If she has not yet been taken, swoop her up."

"Mrs. Banting!" Saffron said, her tone scandalized. The housekeeper giggled as she scurried out of the room, leaving them alone and unchaperoned. The air between them seemed to spark with electricity.

Saffron rubbed her hands together, then ripped them apart and walked over to the desk. She lifted some papers that hung over the edge, then set them down in a pile. "If that is all—"

"Wait," he said. He'd assumed that his staff had everything they needed to prepare for the event, but Mrs. Bantings's transparent happiness shamed him. He had ordered them to do whatever was necessary to ready the house for the auction without considering how much work that might entail.

How long have they been covering for my lack of action?

Even more worrisome, what else had he forgotten? If he wanted to find the person who was stealing Sabrina's paintings, it was in his best interest to ensure the auction went smoothly. He could not investigate if he was busy dealing with one disaster after another, and here was a solution packaged neatly before him.

"I have a proposition for you," he said, finally.

"W-What?" She stumbled back a step, holding out her arms as if to ward him off.

He splayed a hand over his face to muffle a groan. "Not like that."

"What is it, then?" she asked sharply.

He had intended to approach the matter more delicately, but her stiff posture made him fear she might flee, so he blurted out the words, "Someone tried to steal the Ravenmore."

She gasped. "What? When did this happen?"

"Shortly before I met you in the storm. I tried to follow but lost the trail."

In a way, he was thankful for the thief. If the crash had not woken him, he might not have met her in the forest. He did not want to imagine what fate she might have met otherwise.

She chewed her bottom lip. "Could it have been the driver who abandoned us by the crossing?"

That would explain the evidence he'd seen of a horse outside his window. "Perhaps." The man could've intended to use the Summersby family as an excuse to approach the house and then used the carriage to transport the painting back to whoever had hired him.

Her shoulders slumped. "Then I brought a thief to your door."

The guilt in her voice bothered him. "You were not the one who invited them here. I am certain one of my guests is behind the attempt."

As she considered his words, he felt as if his nerves were stretched taut. He could manage without her, he was sure, but a part of him wanted to keep her close.

She sighed. "What do you need me to do?"

A powerful sense of relief washed over him. "I can trail the men, but I need someone to watch the women while I do so. I could use your help. Discreetly, of course."

Surprise flashed across her face. "Then we are agreed. I will help you find your thief, and I will assist you in organizing this auction. But I have a condition of my own."

He remembered their encounter in Percy's office. It was easy to guess her goal. "You want to talk to Ravenmore?"

Saffron smiled. "Precisely."

He buried his hands in his hair. Was it worth it? As long as his sister's paintings remained in museums, Sabrina's legacy was secure. No one would forget the anonymous painter who had taken the London art scene by storm. Then there was the fact that Saffron had her own motives. Ones she refused to reveal. Left to her own, her attempts to uncover Ravenmore might hinder his plans. She would be furious when he told her the truth, but he would deal with that when the time came. Life was much easier when one focused only on the present.

"I accept your terms," Leo said. "After the auction, I will introduce you to Ravenmore. I will tell my butler, Sinclair, to give you access to everything you need. In exchange, I need you to tell me why this is so important." He stepped closer. "Why are you so damned determined to talk to Ravenmore?"