Page 72 of Drowned in the Pleasure of a Devilish Baron
Leonard raised his voice, addressing all of the workers. “Did anyone happen to catch what language the foreign men here yesterday were speaking?”
A chorus of voices rose, shouting every language possibility under the sun. Leonard rose a hand. “Can anyone make a guess based on some sort of experience? Anyone who has heard the language spoken or can repeat what they said?”
They all fell silent. “And you did not hire these men?” he asked Hawthorn.
“Absolutely not, My Lord.”
“Why would they leave the coat behind,” Felix mused. “If they were taking pains to do something illegal?”
Edwards lifted the sleeve once more, and they all saw the ragged, burnt ends, and that it was half the length of its twin. “I believe that perhaps his coat caught fire. See the burnt ends here? Perhaps this was the coat of the fire-starter, and it rose up his arm, so he ripped the coat off.” He looked up at the two gentlemen. “So the man you are looking for, he is likely to have a severely burnt arm.”
* * *
True to her word, Mrs. Rose had the gown completed and sent over by lunchtime. Lady Marlow was aflutter with nerves and anticipation. For her part, Sarah spent the day fighting fatigue. She had waited half the night at the window, hoping that Felix would appear, before finally drifting into a light and troubled sleep a few hours before dawn. Every sound had jolted her awake, afraid that it was him and she would miss him.
Now, she was deeply dreading the evening ahead, biting back yawns, and wondering what kept Felix away. He had said if he could, he would come, so she knew that whatever had not allowed him to come was important. It gave her hope that he was on to something, and was working toward their future together.
When Rebecca sat her in front of her mirror to do her hair for the evening, she was taken aback by how pale and drawn her face appeared. Rebecca remained quiet as she teased Sarah’s hair into an elaborate bun, crafting braids to pull up into it and stringing false pearls into the center knot.
“Is this all right, Miss?” Rebecca handed her a small mirror so she could look at the back.
“You’ve outdone yourself, Rebecca,” she said. And it was true. The hairstyle was deceptively simple, but intricate and eye catching, drawing attention to her long neck. The pearls shone in the light, and she knew that in the evening light they would shine even brighter. It was beautifully done.
“If you don’t mind my saying, Miss, perhaps I could use a bit of rouge to brighten your cheeks?” Rebecca asked tactfully.
Sarah looked at her pallid skin in the mirror and nodded. Rebecca swept rouge lightly across her cheeks, giving her the appearance of a delicate pink blush. Then it was time to dress. Mrs. Rose had done a wonderful job. The finished product hung from the door of her wardrobe.
“It will be a bit tight,” Rebecca said apologetically.
Sarah turned so that she could tighten her stays. “That’s fine. I can’t imagine I will be eating much this evening anyway.”
Rebecca pulled the lacing tighter and tighter, forcing Sarah to hold her breath to finally get it to tie where it needed. She carefully let the breath out when it was done, breathing shallowly as Rebecca helped her step into the gown. It fit snugly, tight across her middle even with the tightened stays, and tight across her chest as well, letting the barest hint of her breasts rise above the top.
“You look wonderful, Miss.” Rebecca fussed with the skirt and the back, settling the sleeves evenly across her shoulders. “There. Magnificent.”
Sarah nodded without feeling and turned back to the window. Now that she was ready for this evening, there was nothing to do but wait. She felt like a piece of meat, dressed for dinner. But there was nothing she could do about it—not for now.
“Miss…” Rebecca said hesitantly. “Are you all right? If you’d like to talk, I could listen.”
“No thank you,” Sarah said without looking at her. For though Rebecca was her lady’s maid, a position that often inspired confidence and the ability to speak freely, what could she say? Every word would likely be passed directly onto her mother. No, better to take no risks and suffer silently. She heard Rebecca leave the room behind her.
She wished to write to Juliet, to check the stables and see if a response from her had come, but she had been too closely watched today, and her mother had forbidden her from stepping outside in case she colored in the sun before the evening’s dinner. So instead, she stood at the window and looked out, praying that this evening, Felix would come.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Felix and Leonard were meeting with the constable to discuss the fire and tell him what they had learned thus far. They had stayed in London the night before to continue investigating all that they could in regards to the fires. As much as he hated not being able to visit Sarah, he knew that he was on the trail of something important, and every moment counted.
The constable had suggested meeting at a pub not far from where the fire had happened, so that they could all eat. It was sure to be a long day for Felix and Leonard, so they agreed.
The man was easy enough to pick out, even in the crowded pub. The parish constable was a massive man, red-faced and bulbous. Apparently Leonard had spoken with him before.
“Clifford,” he greeted, taking a seat at the table.
“Lord Cunningham.”
Felix and Leonard ordered beer and venison joints. The constable took a drink of his own beer and got down to business. “How can I help, My Lord?”
“You already know about the fire that wiped out my wares,” Leonard said.
