The duke shook his head. “The walls of both my house in London and my country estate are completely filled, thanks to Mr. Morgan. I would need to buy another property to find spaceto hang anything else.” The duke laughed, then smiled at them, inviting them to join in on the joke.
Saffron laughed prettily, then dove back in, sensing she was close to a clue. “Mr. Morgan, you mean he’s an art procurer?”
“Well, I—” The duke grabbed anhors d’oeuvrefrom a passing servant and took a bite. His jaw seemed to move with incredible slowness.
“What my companion is not saying is that I am interested in procuring some pieces myself,” Lady Allen said. “We would be most pleased if you could provide a reference.”
The duke swallowed, then nodded. “If that is your aim, I can suggest Mr. Morgan for the job. I had a few select pieces I fancied, and Mr. Morgan fulfilled his duty. Now, if you will excuse me, ladies, I have a dance partner to engage.” The duke stepped away from them and strode quickly away.
“Wonderful work, my dear,” Lady Allen said. “I can see I am no longer needed. Enjoy yourself, and I expect to hear every detail of what you learn tonight.”
Her mischievous smile spoke of what she had planned. As much as Saffron respected the woman, she had no desire to learn whose bed she would warm. That Leo was still in the ballroom had nothing to do with her sense of relief.
Indeed, Saffron mused, aside from the Morgans and Canterbury, her fellow guests had treated her far better than she’d ever been. Not once had she been asked to fetch a refreshment or bumped into with a snide apology. No angry debutante had spilled wine on her dress or made fun of her gown. The experience was so thrilling that when Mr. Whitewood asked her to dance, she agreed. The older man treated her with a fatherly air and answered all her questions with a gentle smile. She quickly ruled him out as a suspect because his joints creaked and moaned as he dipped her, and there was a faint cloudiness to his eyes. The man was in no shape to be riding a horse throughthe night, nor perching on a stool for hours on end, peering closely at a canvas.
When the music ended, the baron led her back to her aunt, who was watching Angelica like a hawk.
“Have you seen the Duke of Canterbury?” Rosemary asked, clutching her fan in both hands. “I had hoped Angelica might snare his attention with her new gown.”
A powerful urge to confess what had happened in the study filled Saffron, but she pushed it away. The middle of a ballroom was not the place for such a discussion.
If she will even believe it.
“I heard him mention visiting the stables,” Saffron said instead. She scanned the room, searching for a golden head. Where was Leo? She had caught only fleeting glances of him all night. She had to find him and tell him what she’d learned.
Was he avoiding her? Did he regret what had happened between them?
The room spun. Rosemary was still talking, but Saffron did not hear the words. She licked her suddenly dry lips. The prickling had returned with a vengeance, traveling down her neck and making the muscles in her back spasm.
“Settle down,” Rosemary hissed. “You are squirming like a child at her first Sunday Mass.”
That must be it. He wants nothing to do with me.
It shouldn’t have been such a crushing blow. He was a member of the House of Lords, a disreputable rake desired by any woman with a pulse. She was an outcast, brandedstrangeby society, hidden in the shadows of her much more beautiful sister.
She had to do something before she fell apart and brought Canterbury’s fury down upon them.
“My throat is parched,” she said. “Please excuse me.”
Chapter Seventeen
Saffron fled heraunt’s side and made her way around the room, sticking close to the walls. Her ankles pulsed with pain, her neck ached, and there was a ringing in her ears that wouldn’t go away. Every flash of a blond head had her pulse racing.
Then Simon Mayweather caught her as she paused at the refreshment table.
“Stroll with me, Miss Summersby?” he asked, holding out an arm. “You look like you need a break.”
She accepted, and as they walked away, asked, “How did you know?”
He chuckled. “You nearly stamped your partner’s foot in the last set.”
The orchestra started up, but he did not lead her onto the dance floor, to her relief. She didn’t want to risk being partnered with Canterbury or, worse, Leo. What would she say to him? That he had burrowed his way so deep into her heart that she could not bear the thought of him courting another? They had never spoken of commitments. It was her own fault for expecting more of him than he could give.
Simon squeezed her hand. “I am surprised I got you before my cousin. Haven’t a clue where our host has gotten himself off to. You’d think he’d be in the middle of this.”
Saffron steered him toward the doors to the terrace. “The better for you, Mr. Mayweather. I assume you wish to discuss Angelica?”
As expected, the conversation shifted easily to her sister.
