“Why do you wear the black?” Angelica asked. “Did someone you know die?”
“My sister.” His tone had a brittle edge.
“We lost our brother, too,” Angelica said. “He left us to go traveling and they found his body washed up on the shore. Aunt Rosemary says it is his fault that we must marry for money and not for love.”
Hearing her sister speak of their bleak future in such a fashion twisted Saffron’s heart. She pulled away from the viscount to place a hand on her sister’s arm. “I don’t think the viscount wishes to hear about our troubles.”
As the man smothered a laugh, Saffron noticed a painting behind her sister’s head. Something about it called out to her and she stepped closer, taking in the scene of a ship. The hull was primarily black, with a line of white near the top and a hint of red beneath the waves. A bearded figure graced the front of the ship, holding a round shield in one arm and a sword in the other, facing forward as if charging into battle.
It can’t be.
A man stood on the deck, wearing brown, cotton overalls. One hand was on his hip, and the other buried in his mass of chestnut curls.
“Sister, no!” Angelica cried.
She jerked her hand back. Without realizing it, she’d touched her fingers to the canvas. “Look at this,” she said. “Do you see it?”
Her sister crowded in beside her, but Saffron kept her gaze on the man on the deck of the ship, afraid if she looked away, he would disappear, as he had vanished from their lives nearly three years prior. She hadn’t believed he was dead until a body was found wearing her brother’s clothes.
“Ravenmore,” Briarwood said, uttering the word like a curse.
The back of Saffron’s neck prickled. She’d been so focused on the painting, she hadn’t noticed him moving to stand behind her. If she took a step back, she would bump into his chest. Would he be as warm and solid as he looked? She ached to find out but didn’t dare move.
Angelica peered at a metal plaque mounted on the wall beneath the painting. “He’s right. It says, ‘Ravenmore.’ What does it mean?”
Saffron didn’t respond, having noticed the slanted, silver print near the corner of the canvas.
It’s only a few days old.
The world slanted on its axis as several years’ worth of grief churned inside her chest.
One thought rang clear in her mind.
She had to find the artist and ask how he had painted a picture of a ghost.
Chapter Two
Leopold Mayweather, ViscountBriarwood, lurked at the fringes of Lady Jarvis’s ballroom, clutching a half-full glass of the bitterest lemonade he’d ever tasted. At his side was a plant set on a white marble column. The long, green leaves draped over the edge and waved in the breeze made by passing, tray-laden servants.
He focused on Saffron, standing in the shadow of a velvet curtain outside the refreshment room. She reminded him so much of Sabrina, with the same hair, black as a raven’s wing, and the same defiant eyes. When she’d pulled back her sister’s hair, tenderness written across her features, he’d felt a spark of something deep in his soul.
“Hello there,” a cheerful voice said.
He turned to see the grinning face of his cousin. Simon Mayweather was dressed as fashionably as any of the other young dandies in a dark-burgundy jacket with a plum-colored waistcoat over a patterned silver vest and burgundy trousers. His dark hair was held back with a ragged strap of leather and his cravat was lopsided, as if he’d rolled out of bed moments before dressing.
Knowing Simon, that’s exactly what happened.
Simon clinked his glass against Leo’s. “As cheerful as ever, Briarwood.”
Leo grunted. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”
Servants dodged around Simon, who sipped his drink. “I did not expect you would ever leave that old house.”
Leo put a hand on his cousin’s arm and pushed him out of the flow of foot traffic. “What do you mean?”
“You’re stuck in the past,” Simon said, exchanging his empty glass for a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing servant. “After the accident, I was certain you would never leave. I thought I might see an article about you in the newspaper one day, that they’d found you dead in that tomb of a house. But enough of that. What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know,” Leo said honestly. “I didn’t intend to stay this long.”
