A particular shade of lavender called out to her, and she picked up a length and held it in her hands. It was soft on her fingers and shimmered in the flickering gaslight.
“That would be lovely on you,” Rosemary said.
“It’s so soft.” She imagined herself in a gown made of the light material. Then she wondered what Leo would say if she walked down the stairs wearing a gown of such a beautiful fabric. She dropped the sample and clenched her hands into fists to keep from picking anything else up. The last thing she should think about was the man who had kissed her so ravenously in his study, who had branded her with the heat of his fingers and brought her pleasure she’d never imagined possible.
I cannot wait to see him again.
“Ladies.Bienvenue, welcome!” a melodious voice called. It was the modiste, dressed in a moss-colored dress. She sweptinto the room, a wide smile on her face. Her jet-black hair was bundled beneath a tight bonnet, and her bodice had several pockets jammed with pens and papers.
Saffron spent the next hour lifting her arms and puffing out her chest and sucking in while assistants took measurements. It was one of the few things she had not missed about their lost wealth, especially when the modiste took one look at her hands and tutted.
“Such calluses,chérie. It is not the fashion.”
She bit down on the retort that flew to her lips. Telling the woman about her long hours sewing would not gain her anything. She kept silent until the woman moved on to shower Angelica with compliments.
Her sister wore the pinned-together panels of a dress. Even with the dress in a rough state, her sister was gorgeous. Saffron imagined her twirling around on the dance floor accompanied by some marquess or baron.
Or maybe Simon Mayweather.
The man was not entirely unsuitable and he had not shown any sign of cruelty. Her bigger concern was that Mr. Mayweather’s intentions might not have been honorable. He might have shared Leo’s disdain for marriage. At least Canterbury was transparent about his aim: a wife.
“Beggin’ my pardon, miss,” the dressmaker’s assistant crouched in front of her said. “Did you be hearing the storm?”
No, because I had my arms wrapped around the viscount’s neck.
“I did not,” she said, dutifully lifting her foot so the assistant could measure her inner thigh. “Why, was there an accident?”
She had heard of such things happening. Lightning struck where it would and spread from cottage to cottage without thought for the occupants.
The assistant blanched before ducking her head. Although she had not responded, Saffron suspected she had been right.
Then Rosemary approached, holding a bolt of fabric in her arms, and the assistant stopped talking.
“Light colors do not suit you, my dear,” her aunt said, spreading out the fabric in her arms. “What do you think of this?”
Saffron had to admit her aunt was right. The bright colors Angelica preferred made her look washed out. But the cerulean satin selected by her aunt highlighted her dark hair and eyes.
“Oui!” the modiste exclaimed. “You shall have a gown. And matching slippers, perhaps?”
Saffron shifted uncomfortably. How many gowns was Leo going to pay for?
“Do not look so dour,” Rosemary scolded. “The viscount is a wealthy man. He can afford to outfit an entire Season of debutantes. This is but a trifling expense for a lord, I assure you.”
Saffron flexed her thighs, aching from standing in one place for so long, and watched her aunt confer with the modiste. With every additional item Rosemary requested, the woman’s Parisian accent thickened, until she was spouting full sentences in French.
Saffron hoped Leo wouldn’t regret opening an account for them.
*
“I’m afraid it’sthe truth,” Sinclair said, flipping through a small notebook in his hands. “I confirmed with your solicitor. He confirmed that the funds are missing.”
Leo thumped his elbows down on top of the sturdy desk in his office and buried his hands in his hair. Beneath the desk, he stamped his feet on the floor in time with the lilting musicfiltering through the window. Most of his guests were in the garden, enjoying the break in the clouds. Instead of joining them, he was attempting to unsnarl yet another mess.
That is an excuse, and you know it.
He could have delegated someone else to search through the financial records of the estate or waited until after the auction was over. But he knew if he joined the festivities, he would come face to face with Saffron, and he didn’t know how he would handle it.
You had the woman beneath you. You’ve all but ruined her.
