“You were supposed to protect me,” she whispered. “You promised you would come with me, brother.”
He reached for her, but a heavy-set man wearing a long, black coat shoved a cudgel in front of his face. “Take ’e number,” the man said, gesturing to the strip of leather tied to his sister’s legs. The number seventy-five was scratched on the surface. “Them at the big tent will give ’e a form. Bring the form back to take the gel.”
He tried to push the cudgel away, but two others grabbed his arms and pulled him back, then dropped him and crossed their arms.
“Fine,” he said. He carefully untied the scrap of fabric then stumbled away, past others who were sobbing into each other’s arms or shouting and fighting. He reported to the main retrieving area and was given a letter of permission, which he accepted and returned to give to the undertaker. With no cart, he simply picked up his sister’s limp body in his arms and walked through the crowds.
*
When Saffron awoke,it was to find Leo snoring beside her. His hair was splayed over his pillow, and every few seconds, he thrashed his head from side to side. She reached for his temple but then pulled back. She wanted to comfort him, but she couldn’t stay. She carefully slipped out of his bed and crept through the halls until she returned to her room.
She had only enough time after to change into sleeping garments and muss up her bedsheets before Lily arrived to help her dress for the day.
As Lily prepared her gown, she wondered if Leo was still asleep, and what he would say the next time he saw her. She supposed she was his mistress, a role she’d never expected to fill. The very idea filled her with a shivering kind of excitement. All her life, she had been trained in the duties of a wife, but being a mistress was something new.
She shook her head. There were more important issues at hand and convincing Angelica not to marry the Duke of Canterbury was paramount. That meant speaking to Ravenmore as soon as she could.
A knock interrupted her thoughts, and when Lily opened the door, Rosemary entered.
“Not dressed yet?” her aunt asked archly.
Saffron was certain her aunt could read her guilty conscience all over her face, but she forced a smile. “I did not want to get out of bed this morning.”
Rosemary raised one eyebrow but otherwise did not comment. Then she strode forward and sat on the bed. “I came to speak to you about Angelica. I believe we should encourage a short engagement. She could be married by month’s end.”
Saffron thumped down on the bed beside her aunt. Although a fire roared in the room, she felt as cold as if she were neck-deep in a snow drift. She imagined Angelica walking down a church aisle, a chain around her ankle. “Give me a chance to change her mind,” she said. “Lady Allen has offered me a position as a companion—”
Rosemary silenced her with a slice of her hand. “That’s enough. You can pursue employment if you choose, but I won’t allow you to interfere with your sister’s future.” She paused, then added, “Angelica will be a duchess. Is that truly so bad?”
Saffron closed her eyes, and a tear slipped down her cheek. “He will crush her spirit.”
Rosemary sighed. “You underestimate your sister.”
She wanted to scream, but what good would it do? Angelica shared her stubbornness. In her view, marrying a cold, heartless man was the lesser of two evils. The other being a life of poverty for them all.
“I’ll leave you to consider things,” Rosemary said. As the older woman left the room, Saffron dashed away her tears. Her aunt had given in, but she would not surrender.
There was still one skirmish remaining before the war was decided. She paced the room three times before settling by the window. She felt restless, like she was on the cusp of an important discovery that was just out of reach.
As she stared at the grounds, two figures walked into view. The first was Mr. Morgan, easily identifiable by his size and the handkerchief clutched in one hand. The second was a nervous-looking man in a shabby, green suit.
Who is that?
She’d seen the man before, but she couldn’t remember where. His wardrobe occupied that awkward gap that was neither plain or consistent enough to mark him as a servant, nor elaborate enough to indicate his status as a guest.
She peered closer, until her nose was pressed against the glass. The two men were talking, but the glass was too thick to make out the words. Mr. Morgan was gesturing wildly with his hands, including the one that held the handkerchief. The other man pulled a sheaf of papers from his pocket and thrust them at Mr. Morgan.
Mr. Percy.
Leo’s solicitor, who had given up his own invitation so Saffron and her family could attend.
What’s he doing here?
She rushed for the door, intent on sneaking down to listen to their conversation, but by the time she reached where they had been, both men were already gone.
Chapter Twenty-One
Saffron rushed upthe stairs and then down the hall until she found Leo in his office.
