Page 40 of Companion to the Count
He raised a hand to cup her cheek. “You.”
In that moment, he had her in thrall. She would’ve believed anything he said, agreed to any request he made. Her skin prickled where his palm touched her. She didn’t know if she had the strength to step away, no matter how her brain screamed at her that what she was doing was wrong.
The realization broke her from the spell, and she jerked her face out of his reach.
“I do not wish to play your games,” she said, forcing as much venom into her words as possible. “I agreed to assist you with the auction and in finding the thief. That does not include having you monitor my every move.”
Leo quickly tucked his arms behind his back. “Of course. I did not—” He cleared his throat. “What I meant to say was, there are discrepancies in the latest receipt from the grocer. I would value your input as to the cause of the error.”
The man was clever. She would give him that. He had already figured out her weakness. The allure of a problem to focus on, to ground her and force her imagination back to Earth, was too much to resist.
Chapter Fourteen
Saffron sat cross-leggedin the middle of Leo’s office on a beautiful, multicolored rug imported from India, cradling a fuzzy ball of purring warmth in her hands. A breeze entered through the open window and swirled around the room, ruffling the papers on his desk.
The white-haired maid, Mary, had followed them up from the entryway and slumped on a chair near the open window. The act did not fool Saffron. She caught the woman looking through her eyelashes twice, and her snoring was suspiciously regular.
What am I doing here?she thought, not for the first time.I should be searching for Ravenmore, or tracking down the thief, or keeping an eye on Angelica, or…Her eyes drifted to Leo, at his desk, one hand buried in his hair, a scowl across his face.
As promised, she had reviewed the receipt from the grocer and had quickly pointed out that the numbers quoted did not match the supplies she had seen in the pantry.
“Is there not a person in the country who is not trying to fleece me?” Leo asked, sliding the papers in front of him aside. “Thank you for your insight. I shudder to think how long it might have taken me to realize the problem without your help.”
His praise warmed her cheeks and elicited a fluttering sensation in her chest. How many men would have accepted her help in a similar position, much less recognize the value of her opinion?
The Duke of Canterbury would not, of that I am certain.
“I believe it is time for a break,” Leo said. “I see you have become fast friends with my painting companion.”
She rubbed her nose against the kitten’s gray fur and ignored the taunt. “She’s adorable. What’s her name?”
He chuckled. “I have not yet named her. I was thinking Cinder, because the footman who found her said she was curled up next to the remains of the kitchen fire.”
She cupped her hands around the ball of fur and deposited it in her lap. The ball unfurled and stretched out both arms, claws extended. Large, yellow eyes peered up at her.
“Ow.” She gently disengaged a claw from her wrist and moved both hands away before the kitten decided she was fair game as a playmate. It reminded her of how Leo treated her, although his claws were not so sharp.
Spoiled, Cinder jumped from her lap and waddled away, toward a string twitching across the floor beneath Leo’s desk.
“She will be a mighty hunter,” he said, pulling the string away as Cinder pounced. The kitten skidded across the wooden floor, tumbled onto her back, and was up again in a flash as if nothing had happened.
Saffron clapped a hand over her mouth but couldn’t stop her giggle. Leo began laughing shortly after, and soon both were clutching their stomachs while Cinder chased a beetle on the floor, oblivious.
“Oh, she’s lovely,” she said, wiping away her tears. “I must tell Angelica. She will be in raptures. She loves animals.”
He scooped up Cinder with one hand and deposited the kitten in a wicker basket filled with a soft blanket. The kitten made a sharp mew, as if annoyed at the restriction to her freedom.
“You know there’s probably more,” Saffron said, sobering at the thought. “There is rarely a single kitten in a litter.”
Leo rose from his desk and extended his arm. “Shall we hunt?”
She giggled as she took his arm, the other holding the quivering basket. The kitten made sounds more akin to a wildcat. Mary rose from her chair, unbidden, and followed them down the rear stairs to the kitchen. There, Saffron explained their quest to the cook, who was engaged in hanging what she called “specter traps” from the rafters.
“Search all ye want,” the cook said. “I could use more cats. They keep the mice at bay, even the wicked, black ones. I hardly have time to be watching them with a party to cook for and so little help.”
And so, the hunt began. Saffron enjoyed herself so much, she ignored the small voice in the back of her head that insisted she tell Leo to return to his guests, that there were more important things for her to be doing.
I can’t remember the last time I had fun, she thought as she kneeled on her hands and knees beneath the large, oaken table in the servants’ dining room, listening for soft meowing. The room smelled like garlic and onions from the stew boiling away on the stove. Her stomach growled. Her knees were sore, and she was sure Lily would curse her when she saw the state of her lovely gown.
