“Be careful.” He pointed to the tips of her feet, peeking out from beneath her gown, covered in silk slippers. “There may still be shards of glass on the floor. I would not want you to injure yourself.”
“I am sure your staff has done a thorough job,” she said. He searched the floor in front of her as she went, his heart pounding with every step, expecting her to let out a high-pitched cry as a shard cut through her thin slippers. When nothing happened, he forced his attention back to the problem at hand.
The detective crouched by the window, one hand on his chin, the other holding a small notepad. “You say nothing was disturbed?” He peered out the window, where long branches scraped against the sides of the house in the buffeting wind. “Might it have been one of them branches that done the deed?”
“There was a branch, but the end was cleanly cut. There was also mud on the carpet inside, and evidence of a horse sitting for some time nearby,” Leo said, as Saffron surreptitiously used a corner of her gown to remove a streak of mud from the window frame. “I searched the woods but lost the track by the cliff. I suspect he had a ship docked nearby.”
The detective scribbled on the notepad. “Well, I’m not sure what we might do. Destruction of property, that’s a crime, but it will be blasted hard to catch the man, what with the storm. I would guess any evidence is long gone by now.”
Leo sighed. Although he had expected as much and had already moved his canvases to a secured room where only his most trusted servants could enter, he had the overwhelming urge to rush to the room and count the canvases and make sure there were none missing.
“What do you suggest, then?” he asked, doing his best to keep his tone even as Saffron wandered away to direct the newly arrived Mrs. Banting where to position more chairs, oblivious to the potential danger beneath her feet.
“You might hire some locals to keep guard,” the detective said. “This isn’t a case for Scotland Yard, my lord. Chances are, you spooked the thief right off and he won’t soon return.”
Leo had his doubts, but he understood there was little the law could do, even if he revealed the priceless pieces of art that had been present in the room on the night of the break-in. Better to take matters into his own hands.
“Thank you, Detective. We will consider your suggestions.”
He walked the man out, partially to ensure he didn’t wander around on his own, but also to remain occupied and unable to answer questions for some time longer. As expected, once the doors closed, his butler and housekeeper were at his side.
“Milord, the roast—”
“No room in the stables—”
He took a deep breath. Before he could settle their concerns, Saffron swept between them.
“Calm down, both of you,” she said. “Now, Mrs. Banting, you start. What problem is so serious that you must accost your master mere moments before the guests arrive?”
Sinclair and the housekeeper plied the woman with a deluge of problems. As he watched, bemused, she triaged a new main course for the dinner and arranged for a new paddock with a temporary stable to be built that same afternoon.
“Your skills are wasted,” he said once his servants had quit her side. “You would be a remarkable mistress of a household.”
The moment he’d said the words, even in jest, he regretted them. He had no intention of ever marrying. A dalliance was acceptable, but taking a wife would make him vulnerable. He could not risk feeling the kind of pain he’d felt after Sabrina’s death again.
Saffron’s jaw trembled. “Indeed.”
“If only there was a way to manage the lives of those around you without marriage,” Angelica said from the stairs. Dressed in a silver-and-lilac gown with an overdress of white, pleated flounces and silk rosettes, she descended to stand beside her sister. Her curls were piled atop her head and decorated with iridescent beads.
“Are you sure you are recovered?” Saffron asked, touching her sister’s cheek with her fingers.
“Stop fussing,” Angelica said. “I’m fine. Aunt Rosemary is fine. You can stop worrying about us.”
“If only that were possible,” Saffron said.
Hoping to forestall a fight, Leo bowed before Angelica. “You are radiant, Miss Summersby. Nearly as radiant as your sister.”
“You are too kind, Lord Briarwood,” Angelica said, waving her fan in front of her face. “I must admit that a maid supplied us. Most of our gowns were soiled in the crash.”
Well, that will not do.
“I will rectify that situation at once,” he said. “My coachman will accompany you to the nearest dressmaker at your convenience. You may use my account.” Angelica squealed.
“That wouldn’t be proper,” Saffron said, putting her hands on her hips. “You presume too much, Lord Briarwood.”
Hearing her use his title bothered him, even though he knew she had to use the proper form of address around others. He looked forward to making her moan his name. Assuming he got a chance. He would not blame her if the next time they were alone, she insisted on maintaining a proper distance.
“As we have already established,” he said, “I am entirely improper.”
