“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 hadsecured 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.
