A Botanist's Guide to Parties and Poisons (Saffron Everleigh Mystery #1)(6)

Saffron stepped back into the hallway but took her time returning to the din of the drawing room. She slowly made her way down the hall paneled with dark, polished wood and paintings that likely individually cost her annual salary. She rounded a corner and gasped, the sound turning to a laugh when she realized the man she’d nearly run into was Mr. Ashton, who seemed to be about to drain his glass into the bedraggled potted palm next to him.

“No, no, it’s clearly seen a lot of parties with bad sherry,” Saffron said with a smile. She removed the drink from his hand, placing it on the sideboard tucked behind the rescued palm. “Much better! No plants harmed.”

Mr. Ashton, who’d looked just as startled as she had when she’d rounded the corner, smiled. Before he could reply, a doorway beyond opened, and the high voice of a woman began speaking. Saffron had no desire to churn up more rumors about herself by being caught in a lonely stretch of dim hallway with someone, but the woman’s voice was drawing closer. She stepped further into the corner. Without a word, Mr. Ashton moved next to her, their backs to the paneled wall. She looked up at him, ready to make it clear that this was not an opportunity to make advances, even if he had acted gallantly earlier, but he looked just as uncomfortable as she felt.

The rustling of a gown told Saffron the woman had stopped just beyond where she and Mr. Ashton stood.

“What about him?” a cool voice asked.

The high voice whispered, “How do you put up with it! He’s gone off with Cedric’s daughter on the balcony. I saw them from the window.”

Mr. Ashton glanced down at her, his eyes questioning. “Should we go?” he seemed to ask.

“Has he now? Charming selection,” drawled another woman.

Saffron shook her head. Leaving now would only cause more problems, however much she didn’t want to be overhearing this conversation. This was clearly in reference to Dr. Henry and Miss Ermine. The cold voice must belong to Dr. Henry’s wife. Saffron eased herself deeper into the corner, where she’d be obscured by the potted palm. Mr. Ashton followed suit, the silk of her glove brushing against his hand as he drew closer.

“Why don’t you talk to him again, Cynthia, dear?” A sympathetic tone colored the high voice.

“What’s the point? Everyone knows what sort of man he is, and he’ll be gone soon anyway.”

“Yes, dear, but they know that you let him carry on. Surely it stings, even if—”

“Stings? Maybe before the first dozen women were paraded past me. I’ve little cause for concern.”

A few muffled footsteps, and a dark-haired head emerged from the hallway. Luckily, she faced away from their hiding place. Mr. Ashton did his best to shrink, but it only brought him closer to Saffron. She glanced up at him in question. He grimaced apologetically.

“Perhaps they’re just discussing the funding. You know, my husband said Mr. Ermine—”

“Yes, dear Lawrence made sure the funding came through.” The voice was as cold as ice.

The high voice came tentatively from around the corner. “Have you spoken to your solicitor? You mentioned something a few months ago …”

Saffron’s eyes widened in surprise, but then she recalled that this was a private conversation. She hoped Mr. Ashton hadn’t noticed her interest. That was certainly not the way to make a good impression. But then, they were shoulder to shoulder, both hiding. He wasn’t doing any better than she was.

There was a quiet, humorless laugh. “I haven’t decided if I will. The man will be out of the way quite soon. And I’m not exactly suffering in solitude.”

With that, the two women came fully into view as they cross the wide hallway. Lady Agatha hurried after Mrs. Henry. The dark-haired woman’s gown swished languidly as she went. For all her biting words, she seemed unruffled. The two women disappeared down the hallway without a backward glance.

Saffron released a relieved breath.

Mr. Ashton cleared his throat, and began, “I apologize. That was—”

A cheer from the drawing room made them both jump. Saffron gave him an uncertain smile. “We’d better return.”

He nodded and followed her down the hallway and back into the party. The drawing room was too bright for her eyes, and she squinted as a glass of champagne was pressed into her hands.

Mrs. Henry made her way to where her husband stood next to Sir Edward and Lady Agatha, looking dutifully pleased. Dr. Henry had eyes only for the champagne. Slightly behind Dr. Henry stood the man whom Mr. Ashton had spoken to at dinner, who looked drolly on at the proceedings.

Sir Edward raised his glass and called, “To our extraordinary team of adventurers, we wish you the best of luck on your voyage. May you achieve greatness!”

Dr. Henry tipped his glass to Sir Edward.

“Here, here!” chorused the crowd, lifting their glasses. Everyone sipped.

Saffron took a small sip of the bubbly wine and eyed the man behind Dr. Henry, who was now in close conversation with Mrs. Henry. “Who is that man talking to Mrs. Henry? The one you spoke to at dinner.”

Mr. Ashton was looking at something beyond her as he replied, “Richard Blake. He coordinated the funding for the expedition, reaching out to donors.”

Saffron was about to ask if she needed to protect another plant from the contents of his champagne glass, but when she turned to him, he’d already disappeared into the crowd. Slightly put out, she resolved to thank her hosts, retrieve her coat, and leave.