The nurse twisted her hands together, then stepped away, giving them their first look at their suspect. She recognized him as the driver of their carriage, even though his skin was as pale as the grimy sheets beneath him, and his brown hair was plastered to his head. His eyes were closed, but as Leo stepped closer, they flew open.
“What d’ye want?” he croaked.
“You broke into Briarwood,” Leo said. From his tone, it was clear he wasn’t asking.
“Aye.” The man coughed, spraying his sheets with a fine mist of red. “Shouldn’t have taken that job. Skittish horse in a storm.”
“Foolish, indeed,” Leo said. “Who paid you?”
The man thrashed on the bed, his eyes rolling around in his head. “Scrawny, rough voice, looking loike a ha’penny from a fountain. Should’ve spat in his ale. Wasnae worth the boat.”
Fountain? Boat?
“That’s enough, my lord,” the woman in white said. Her cheeks were flaming red, and she held a dripping rag in her hand.
Saffron felt the tension in Leo’s arm and knew he was going to argue. She also saw the lines of worry on the nurse’s face.
“We should return,” Saffron said.
Leo patted her hand, all tension in his arm gone. “Of course.”
They left the church and followed the road the way they had come, skipping the gardens and the market. They were walking past some trees when Leo threw up his arm in front of her. “Do you see those tracks?”
He leaned closer to the trees at the side of the road and moved some greenery aside with his hand. There was a clear imprint of horse hooves in the mud. He pushed his head through a tangle of branches to reveal the prints trailed away through a small path.
“What does it mean?” she asked.
They gingerly stepped through the mud, following the tracks until they reached the side of a river. He looked up and down the riverbed. “There was a boat docked here recently.”
Just like the sick man said.
“Whoever it was, they are long gone,” Leo said. “Let’s return to the house. I’ll send out volunteers to search for more clues, but I suspect our thief is still one step ahead of us.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Saffron crouched infront of a steamer trunk and flipped open the lid. She bent over the edge, up to her elbows in slippery fabric, and pushed the material around, tugging a section free to inspect it before moving on.
She knew she was procrastinating, throwing herself into activity to avoid thinking about how she had failed. Her sister and aunt were right. The painting was a coincidence. Now she had to decide her own future and if it would include Leo.
“Where are you?” she muttered, tapping her closed fists against the rim of the trunk. She reached all the way to the bottom on one side, then the other before giving up and hefting the contents into her arms and onto the floor.
Leo had communicated his intentions clearly, and on several occasions, but she still wanted more. She had no one to blame but herself.
She dug through the mountain of fabric until she found one of the evening gowns Lily had repaired. She shook out the fabric, then laid the dress on the bed, smoothing out a wrinkle.
There was no longer a reason to help Leo, but she’d given her word. She remembered the man, thrashing about in his bed, spittle flying from his lips. Had they waited too long, and the fever had damaged his mind?
She found a pair of slippers and placed them at the foot of the bed, then picked up a needle and thread from her drawer andset to work repairing a new hole in Angelica’s last pair of white gloves, one of the few items they had not ordered replacements for. Her stitches were small and precise, borne of long practice.
A ha’penny from a fountain. That’s what the man had said.
What does a ha’penny look like, after it’s been sitting at the bottom of a fountain for a few years?
“You know, there are maids here who could do this,” Angelica said, interrupting her thoughts.
Saffron smiled at her sister. “I don’t mind. And anyway, soon, I won’t get to do this anymore and I will miss selecting your evening wear.”
Angelica tugged off the skirt and bodice of her gown and dropped them into a pile. “Everyone treats you like a servant.”
