Page 31 of His Perfect Bride
As the woman tossed down the trowel, a shaft of moonlight revealed unruly red hair underneath a lacy maid’s cap instead of Juliet’s blond hair. This woman was also much slighter and waiflike compared to Juliet.
The maid knelt and tugged something out of the earth. She rested the item on her lap, then glanced around the yard, as though making sure no one else was there.
Sage held her breath as the maid’s gaze passed over the brush that concealed her. Did she sense Sage’s presence?
After peering around one more time, the woman dug into her apron pocket and removed something. In the darkness, Sage couldn’t distinguish what it was, but with as furtive as the woman was being, Sage had the sinking feeling that the Firths’ maid was up to no good. What if she was stealing from the family? It would be entirely possible, since they were at the dinner party and wouldn’t be home to witness one of their maids taking valuables.
The woman opened the box on her lap, deposited something inside, then closed it. She tucked the box back into the earth and began to scoop the dirt over it. She worked quickly, and when finished, she stood and stomped on the spot with her boots to pack the earth down. Then she scattered dried leaves and other brush across the dirt to conceal it. Finally, she stowed the trowel in a corner of a nearby raised flower bed before she hastened away.
Sage stared in the direction the woman had disappeared. She couldn’t jump to the worst conclusion and assume the maid was stealing. There was likely some logical explanation for what the woman was doing out in the garden late in the evening when her employers were away. What if she’d merely decided to store her earnings in the corner of the gardens? Or what if she had purchased something in town that she wanted to keep safe?
Yes, Sage needed to return to the house and do the mending. One of Augusta’s hems needed shortening. A button on a blouse had come loose. And a silk stocking had a hole in one of the toes.
Expelling a breath, she backed up several steps. The best thing would be to pretend she’d never seen anything. After all, if she hadn’t been in the backyard taking a break, she wouldn’t have noticed the maid and the questionable activities.
Sage took another step backward, then halted. The problem was, she had seen it all. If she walked away and ignored what she’d just witnessed—a possible theft—then wouldn’t she be guilty too?
Perhaps she ought to at least investigate what was inside the box. From what she’d been able to tell, the maid hadn’t taken the time to lock it, so Sage could easily dig it up and take a peek at the contents. If there was nothing of any consequence, then she could go on her way with a clean conscience.
She stood silently for a few more moments before creeping along the line of shrubs until she reached the back corner and found the gate that Juliet had used when they’d had their meeting. It was unlocked and squeaked only a little as Sage let herself through.
She located the trowel and within minutes uncovered the box. From the feel of the fine wood, she guessed it was a cedar cigar box like the one that sat in Jackson’s chamber. She lifted the lid and squinted to see inside.
There were only a few small items.
She bent closer and touched the largest one. It appeared to be a brooch with a raised cameo and a smooth jeweled edge. The second item was thin and seemed to be a hairpin with a cluster of pearls on one end. The third felt like a perfume button bracelet, similar to one Augusta wore from time to time.
The redheaded maid had definitely stolen the items. There was no other plausible explanation for the stash of jewels. The woman hadn’t earned them or bought them. Sage didn’t have to even see them clearly to know they were likely valuable heirlooms, except perhaps the perfume button bracelet.
Should she attempt to confront the maid and demand that she return them to the Firths? Even if Sage did that, what would stop the maid from stealing again and hiding more jewels in another place that Sage wouldn’t know about?
Maybe she ought to interrupt the party, take the jewels directly to the Firths and let them know how she’d discovered the valuables. They could then confront the redheaded maid and bring about retribution.
Or perhaps she ought to wait until the party was over and then call on the Firths at their house privately in the morning before she left to visit Willow. After all of the planning for the gathering tonight, Augusta deserved to have everything be perfect without news of a theft to dampen the festivities.
Besides, there was no rush. The Firths’ maid likely wouldn’t return to the spot of her buried treasure tonight. If she did, Sage would make it appear as though no one had been there.
Quickly, she scooped up the three pieces of jewelry and stuffed them into her apron pocket. She put several small rocks inside the cigar box. Then she replaced the container where she’d found it, burying and concealing it just the way the maid had. She even put the trowel back in the corner of the flower bed.
When she was certain everything looked the way she’d found it, she returned to her coffee and Danish on the stone where she’d left them and then made her way back to the house. Her heart was pounding hard and her hands shaking. No matter the trouble she might be bringing upon herself, she had done the right thing. She was sure of it.
Eleven
One thing was increasingly clear to Jackson—he was rapidly becoming obsessed with Sage.
He’d only been able to sleep for a few hours last night since he’d been too restless from the dinner party and had wanted to be with her, and now as he paced the floor of his study, he still couldn’t stop thinking about her, even though he’d tried working to get his mind on to something else.
He’d been enamored by her beauty from the very first time he’d seen her. But the more he’d gotten to know the strong yet compassionate woman she was inside, the more he liked her.
Then she’d given him the haircut and shave. After that, thoughts of her filled every waking and sleeping moment—thoughts of her fingers in his hair, on his neck, and against his scalp. Her fingertips gliding along his jaw, over his cheek, and so near to his lips.
The touching had all been innocent for her, but each stroke and caress had stirred the heat inside him until he’d become a boiling cauldron.
With a growl, he halted at his window, the morning light finally peeking through the draperies.
While the party hadn’t been easy for him, the evening had proceeded more smoothly than he’d expected. Augusta had done her best to keep conversations from heading in the direction of his failed bridge project, and he’d only had to answer a couple of queries about his work. He’d done as Augusta had suggested beforehand and kept his answers succinct before changing the subject.
In reality, the dinner had been long overdue. He’d needed to mingle with society and push past the heavy guilt that had been chaining him and making him a prisoner since the accident.
