The housekeeper’s lips thinned. “Lord Briarwood has made it clear that no guests should be allowed access to the items for the auction.” She twisted her hands together at her waist. “Is there anything else you require?”
She could prowl the corridors, but what would it accomplish? Her time would be better spent making herself useful.
“Yes,” she said. “You need help. I can provide it.”
The housekeeper blanched. “Begging your pardon, but it would not be proper.”
Saffron smoothed her hands along the bodice of her gown. “You would be doing me a kindness. The only family I have ever known is out there.” She waved her hand toward the window. “I find myself thinking of them incessantly, which pains my heart.”
The housekeeper seemed to struggle with something for a moment before her shoulders dropped. “A lady, cooking and cleaning? No, madam, I won’t allow it. But there is something…”
“Whatever it is, I can help,” Saffron said, more confidently than she felt.
Mrs. Banting nodded. “Well, you are right. I am in desperate need, madam. There is much to be done, and I am in a fluster on how to get it complete in time.”
Finally. Something I can do that’s not sitting around.
She was well acquainted with work, and it would force her mind to focus on something productive. She straightened. “You might as well avail yourself of my help while you can. When my aunt and sister arrive, I won’t be able to assist you. What do you need?”
Chapter Eight
Leo stood infront 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.
