Angelica grabbed on to Saffron’s arm. “Oh, please, sister, please sayyes. It has been so long since we had new gowns.”
He kept silent as the sisters argued, hoping that Saffron would realize his offer was practical, as much as it was his own secret desire to see her dressed in finer clothes. If she was going to help him in his search over the coming days, he needed her able to blend in. If she wore another gown like the one she’d worn at Lady Jarvis’s ball, she would attract too much attention.
“If Aunt Rosemary agrees,” Saffron said at last.
“I will ask her,” Angelica said. She turned and rushed back up the stairs.
As Leo laughed, a loud boom sounded through the hall for the third time.
A footman hurried from the sitting room to pull the door open. A woman in an indigo day dress stepped over the threshold, her hand on the arm of a large man with a bulging stomach. The difference between the two was striking. The woman’s brightly painted lips and low-cut bodice suited a woman half her age, whereas the man, with his mottled complexion and deep-set eyes, seemed like he might drop dead at any moment.
Three servants dressed in dark-brown livery hovered around the couple, holding overlapping umbrellas to keep the rain fromtouching their masters. On entering the hall, they bustled away, dragging the soaking wet umbrellas with them.
Saffron stood behind Leo, and as much as he wanted her by his side, he respected her choice.
“Mr. and Mrs. Morgan,” Leo said, forcing a smile. “Welcome.”
Mr. Morgan frowned. “Lord Briarwood. Didn’t expect you to be the one to greet us.”
Leo was growing rather tired of having to explain the state of his house. He was looking forward to the conclusion of the auction when he could return to his solitude.
“My butler is occupied with a more pressing matter,” he said.
Mrs. Morgan inclined her head, making the peacock feathers in her bonnet bounce.
“Girls, present yourselves to Lord Briarwood,” Mr. Morgan said before coughing into a handkerchief.
Two young ladies scurried forward, dressed in nearly identical bell-shaped gowns that differed only in shade.
“Miss Morgan,” Leo said to the girl in lilac, bowing over her hand.
She gasped. “Lord Briarwood, you know my name?”
“Of course, and your sister.” He clasped the hand of the girl in peach and bowed. “Miss Beatrice Morgan.”
The girls tilted their dark blond heads together and giggled. Both were young, beautiful, and heiresses in their own right.
“Oh!” Mrs. Banting said, as she rushed into the room. “I apologize, my lord.”
As she took charge of showing his guests to their rooms, Leo watched Mrs. Morgan order her daughters about. Mr. Morgan kept shooting glances down the hall. Could the Morgans have come to steal the Ravenmore? With two young daughters, he didn’t think they had the time or privacy.
“Too young for you,” Simon said, appearing at his shoulder without warning, making Leo jump.
“You’re like a damn ghost,” Leo said. “Must you sneak around like that?”
Simon shrugged. “Perhaps rather than my stealth, you might say it was you who had your mind in the clouds.” He glanced around, then smiled at Saffron. “Hello, Miss Summersby. Will your sister be joining us this evening?”
“I could not keep her away if I tried,” Saffron said.
Then the door creaked, and Simon turned. “Ah, my favorite of your guests has arrived.”
A tall, raven-haired woman strolled through the front doors wearing a sleek, crimson gown with a low neckline and cinched waist. Lady Olivia Heather, the Countess Dowager of Allen. He had not spoken to her in months, but she was as beautiful as the day they had met, shortly after the death of her husband, the Earl of Allen.
Simon stepped forward to greet her. “Lady Allen. As lovely as always.”
The woman’s rouged lips curved into a smile as she accepted Simon’s greeting. “Mr. Mayweather. I look forward to renewing our association.”
Leo heard Saffron gasp and reached out to take her hand before she could retreat, pinning him to her side.
