Perfect in My Sight (12 page)

Sarah was vaguely aware that he had to pry her fingers loose from his nightshirt.

And then he was gone and she fell at once into a dreamless slumber.

CHAPTER
12

Her eyes were blue.

And she wasn’t blind.

The second revelation had come close on the heels of the first.

Drugged though she appeared to be, when she had turned to look at him, begging him
to let her sleep... he had been struck first with the vivid clarity of her eyes—blue
like the pale blue of a cloudless summer sky.

And then he had been stunned to find her eyes beseeching him.

Damn, he’d had no choice but to let her sleep, knowing she was hardly in any condition
to answer his questions. But she was bloody well going to!

And soon.

Then again, he wasn’t entirely certain how to handle this. Sarah Hopkins was here
for a reason. She’d gone through so much effort for some goal. Peter wanted to know
what the hell it was.

Who was she?

What the devil was she after?

Could he afford to let her play her little game?

Could he afford not to?

He thought over his options: She was hardly going to come clean and tell him if he
asked outright. No, his best recourse was to let her go on, to let her play her little
charade, and to watch her.

There had been something about her from the very first, something he had not been
able to place, but even despite this incident, he would have figured it out before
long. He lived with his blind son, for Christ’s sake, knew his every mannerism by
heart. Sarah Hopkins—if that was indeed her real name—couldn’t have fooled him much
longer. Dark spectacles alone were not enough to convince a man with his experience.

He thought back to the morning... during Christopher’s lessons... She had smiled when
his son had smiled. Peter hadn’t missed her reaction, though at that instant he hadn’t
been certain what it was about her mirrored response that had troubled him. Now he
knew. And then this afternoon at the park... her reference to the flowers... that
they were beautiful. That had struck him as odd as well.

And now that he understood.

Everything made sense.

Almost everything...

He couldn’t fathom who the hell she might be—a mole for the reporters? for the police?
after all this time? He doubted it. Whoever she was, she was good—just not good enough.

And he was going to give her just enough room in her noose to hang herself.

“Mellie, I swear you are a godsend!”

“As soon as I heard, and knew all was well, I went back to your home and gathered
a few items.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said.

“I also took the liberty of purchasing another pair of spectacles for you,” Mel continued.
“They wouldn’t let me in the room to retrieve anything.” She reached into her coat
and withdrew a pair of spectacles that were nearly identical to the ones Sarah had
been wearing. She placed them upon Sarah’s face. “I swear to God, you are the only
woman I know who can carry those spectacles off as though it were the very fashion.”

“You are such a sweet fibber!” Sarah laughed weakly. “Whatever would I do without
you?”

“Shush!” Mel said, her expression one of horror. “Quit saying such things!”

Sarah gave her a concerned glance. “They didn’t follow you, did they?”

“Whyever would they? Have you given them reason to suspect you?”

Sarah shook her head. “Not that I am aware.”

“Well, then... why would they even consider sending someone to follow your aide, whom
they have no interest in at all? Besides, they are much too busy with cleaning up
after the fire to concern themselves even with you, it seems. You have been sleeping
undisturbed for some time, and I have been with you at least an hour without the first
head popping in to check on you.”

She still felt groggy and out of sorts, almost as though she could go back to bed
and sleep for a thousand years. “I suppose I needed the rest,” Sarah replied, frowning.
“Mel?”

Mel’s brows lifted. “Yes, dear?”

“I think someone drugged me last night.”

Mel’s brows collided. “Drugged!”

Sarah hesitated to say, and yet the evidence was pounding away in her head. “Well...
I didn’t bring a candle into my room last night. Did you?”

Mel shook her head. “I don’t believe I am following you, Sarah.”

Sarah tried to focus, to think more clearly. “Did you come into my room after I fell
asleep and leave a candle there?”

“Of course not!” Mel exclaimed. “I mean... I might have come. I thought about it,
even—and had I found you asleep, yes, I might have left again. But I didn’t, Sarah,
and had I done so, I certainly would never have abandoned a lit candle.”

“Mel... I have not used any light at all in that room for fear that I would be discovered,
and yet I awoke once and there was a lit candle by the window. I saw it, but was entirely
too sleepy to understand what it meant. I remember, too, waking and feeling as though
someone had been in my room, and yet when I’d opened my eyes, the room had been empty,
and once again I had been too tired to pursue it. I fell asleep again without giving
either detail a second thought.”

Mel frowned down at her. “You must have been terribly exhausted.”

Sarah sat up a little straighter and tossed the covers from her. “I was. Still am.
And that is hardly like me, you know.”

“No, it’s not,” Mel agreed.

“I feel like a slug.”

Mel’s expression was one of concern now. “All right, Sarah... let us think about this.
What did you eat last night?”

“I skipped dinner,” Sarah answered at once. “I was so preoccupied and tired already
that I could scarcely bear the thought of joining them. I just couldn’t undergo their
scrutiny over an entire evening meal—felt I’d borne enough of it for one day already.”

Mel cocked her head, her face screwing in confusion. “So you ate nothing at all? How
could they possibly have drugged you, then?” she reasoned.

Sarah sat up a little straighter, her hand going to her head. “Well... but I ordered
dinner brought to my room,” she explained. “I didn’t eat much from it, just a bite
or two of my bread... but I did drink my tea.”

Mel’s lips twisted as she speculated. “The tea, then,” she said. “Who brought it,
Sarah?”

“How the devil should I know, Mellie? You know the servants better than I. Some woman.
Caitlin, maybe?”

Mel raised a brow at that, and Sarah felt at once contrite for her snappish tone.

“I’m sorry,” she relented, “I am simply a bit confused.”

“I understand, Sarah. But it just doesn’t make sense to me at all. Peter Holland hired
you to tutor his son. Why in blazes would he wish you out of the way so soon? You
only just got here. What possible reason could he have to resort to such measures
as drugging you and roasting you alive? It just doesn’t make sense to me.” She continued
to shake her head.

Sarah had to agree. “No, it doesn’t.” Her brows knit as she contemplated the puzzle.

There was silence between them, both deliberating possible motives.

“Unless he’s mad,” Sarah announced, frustrated by the turn of events. “A madman who
lures innocent women to his home and murders them.” She frowned. “I’ll bet he hides
the bodies in his wine cellar,” she added viciously, and knew at once that it was
a ridiculous notion.

She couldn’t imagine that the man who had dragged her from the inferno of her room
and then held her so lovingly on the street was any sort of villain at all.

It was dangerous to soften toward him, Sarah reminded herself. Hers and Mel’s lives
might well depend upon her remaining strong. But he was somehow tearing away her armor,
leaving her with doubts and more questions than answers.

Mel tilted her head a little in reproach. “I hardly think he is a madman. He might
be a greedy dastard, and perhaps even a murderer as well, but mad... I do not think
so. In fact, he seems quite deliberate to me.”

Sarah’s brow furrowed. “Well, neither do I. But these thoughts do enter my head. Particularly
this morning. Perhaps he knows who I am. Are you certain you were not followed?”

“Absolutely,” Mel replied, without reservation. “I was very careful. No one even knew
I had gone, until I’d returned.”

Sarah was quiet a long moment, digesting the information. “But someone doesn’t want
us here, Mel- lie.”

Mel nodded. “I agree.”

Sarah shivered, recalling the blaze in her room. This morning it had held a certain
dream quality that was terrifying in itself. God, what if she hadn’t awakened? What
if she had not smelled the smoke?

“The question is who?”

“That I don’t know,” Sarah replied, “but I’ve a feeling we’ve not heard the last from
them.”

Mel sucked in a breath at that. “I’ve that notion, too.”

Sarah reached out to pat her friend’s hand. She laid her own gently down upon it.
“Mellie ... you needn’t stay, you realize. If you wish to go, I shall understand.
I do not wish to put you at risk.”

Mel turned her hand to grasp Sarah’s. She squeezed it gently. “And if I go, will you
go with me?”

Sarah shook her head without even considering it. “Even more than before, I’ve no
choice. I cannot go, Mellie. That is Mary’s child I would abandon, and I will not
do so—not now when I am finally in a position to help him. I owe it to them.”

“But are you in a position to help him?” Mel asked, forcing her to reconsider. “Are
you truly?”

Sarah shrugged stubbornly. “I don’t know, but I do know this ... last night I held
that child in my arms and rocked him to sleep while he cried. I comforted him when
he whimpered in fear, and promised him all would be well. I will not walk away from
him now, Mel. I will not!”

“Then neither shall I,” Mel declared. “We shall do this together. You need me, Sarah.
And I’m staying!”

Sarah was hardly in a position to argue. Had it not been for Mel, she would be left
now with no clothes, no spectacles, nothing at all. It was Mel who had thought far
enough ahead to replace those items for her, and it was Mel who gave her the courage
to continue. Sarah squeezed her friend’s hand in return, and smiled up at her gratefully.

“I know you don’t like me to say so... but I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“For better or worse, we’re in this together,” Mel said, and smiled down at her, her
eyes twinkling. “In payment I shall only require your firstborn child.”

“Imagine that!” Sarah said, and laughed softly. “And what if I shall never have a
firstborn child?”

Mel’s brows lifted. “What if?”

Sarah’s cheeks heated.

“Hmmm,” Mel said. “Only a week ago you would have sworn to me that I was out of luck
entirely.” She narrowed her gaze, studying Sarah. “What has happened since then?”

Sarah glowered up at her. “Not a blasted thing!” she denied vehemently. And then glanced
about the room, taking in her surroundings for the first time. “God! I realize this
may be a silly question, but... where the devil am I?”

Mel pursed her lips. “Pulled out of the fire and cast into the frying pan,” she answered
cryptically, and then explained, “In the master’s suite, Sarah.” 

CHAPTER
13

It was unfortunate that it had taken a fire to get her into this room, but Sarah decided
every bruise and
burn
was worth it.

While the room adjoining the nursery had held very little of Mary, this one hoarded
a wealth of
her
memories. Sarah moved from piece to precious piece, recognizing some, exploring others.
It was only when she came to a small portrait that stood upon a dressing table that
she understood the depths of Mary
’
s anger toward her. It had once been a sketch of the two of them together, their backs
to each other, both looking at the artist. In the portrait, only Mary
’
s half was visible; the other half that had been Sarah, was gone, cut away. Why had
Mary displayed only half of the portrait? or had Peter? Sarah lifted up the picture
and sat upon the bed, clutching it in her hands, contemplating once more the folly
of their estrangement.

How was she to know, when she
’
d stood her ground in protest over Mary
’s marriage and had re
fused to return, that she would never again see her cousin alive? Such silliness it
all seemed now. She
’d been wrong to do so—h
ad thought she might make a difference in Mary
’
s decision. But when she looked back at it now, her motives were less noble and all
the more clear.

She had thought she
’
d protested for Mary
’s good, but the truth was.
.. Sarah had been afraid to be alone. She
’
d made up her own mind that she didn
’
t wish to marry and had counted upon her cousin to be her life companion. Strange,
even now, to think about it, but they
’
d had such a perfect friendship, and she just hadn
’
t wished to give it up.

Selfish.

When Mary had chosen a life with Peter Holland over one with Sarah, Sarah had felt
betrayed, and she
’
d reacted just like a spoiled brat. Mary had responded by cutting her completely out
of her life, and the portrait in her hand was indisputable evidence of that fact.

When Sarah looked back on it now, she could
scarcely
blame Mary at all.

And yet..
. how alone Mary must
have felt.

Sarah certainly had.

Sarah lay upon the bed and rolled onto her belly, reaching over to set th
e little portrait on the night
stand beside the bed. She doubted anyone would notice she
’
d displaced it. And then she rose from the bed to look into Mary
’
s wardrobes. Opening the doors, she discovered an extravagant selection of dresses,
most of them designed with the long, slim lines that were popular in the early eighties.
That was most definitely something she and Mary had not shared in common. Mary had
always been the model of the latest fashion. Sarah had never cared a whit for the
opinions of others. Perhaps that was a failing of hers as well. She thought it was,
and yet she couldn
’
t feel the least concern over it. She did, however, quite appreciate the style of
these dresses and wished the bustle had never come back. She sighed. One could
scarcely
find these styles any longer.

She closed the wardrobe doors and continued searching the room.

Where might Mary have hidden her last journal?

Did it even exist?

Had she become so depressed that she
’
d stopped writing at all?

God, Sarah hoped not, for in those journals Sarah hoped to find answers to her
darkest
questions.

A stack of books sat on a
small table beside a blue silk tapestry chair. Mary had been ah avid reader, and it
didn
’
t surprise Sarah in the least to find a place set aside for it within her own private
sanctuary. She lifted the book on top of the stack:
The Return of the Native
, by Thomas Hardy. Beneath it was
Creole Days
, by George Washington Cable.

Setting the books down, she studied the room.

The bed, while it was big enough to sleep two, was entirely too small, it seemed,
for Peter Holland
’
s frame.

Had he ever spent a night here? She couldn
’
t help but wonder, and the images that came to mind set her cheeks on fire.

She thrust them away, refusing to acknowledge them.

The paper on the wall was done in an ice blue with lavender sprays and cream-colored
ribbons, and the heavy draperies in a deeper blue that hid the sun from view. She
wondered how late it was. Through the crack in the curtain, fading sunlight crept
into the room. Dust particles danced in its wake. As in the nursery, the carpet was
a striking blue, covering brilliantly polished wood floors. Mary had loved the color
blue, and her preferences were reflected throughout this room, as well as the nursery,
and the house itself, though this room bore a decidedly feminine touch. Sarah surmised
it must be part of an adjoining suite of rooms. The lack of men
’
s clothing in the wardrobe suggested that fact as well. And there were indeed two
sets of doors: one t
hrough which Mel had departed..
. a
nd another that remained closed..
.

She stared at it, wondering if it led to Peter
’
s room. She swallowed at the mere thought and ventured to the door.

Certainly she had no intention of opening it just now, though at some point she knew
she would. That, however, she would leave for a time when everyone was out and she
was left alone to explore. Pressing her ear to the door, she listened for sounds of
movement. She could barely hear someone moving behind it in the distance, and she
leaned a little closer to better hear.

The door wasn
’
t completely shut. The latch had not completely caught and when she leaned on it,
it shifted, opening slightly.

Leaping away from the door, Sarah stared at it a moment in startle, and then realizing
that if someone was inside, she would only have an instant to prepare herself, she
turned and ran toward the bed. Her heart racing, she hurriedly crawled beneath the
covers. And then seeing her spectacles, she reached out to snatch them from the bedside
and put them on just as the door opened.

Sarah didn
’
t look at the door. In fact, she closed her eyes and lifted her head to the sound.
Her heart beat madly against her ribs, and she willed her breath to still.
“
Is someone there?
”

“Me... Peter.”
Sarah
’
s heart lurched a little as she heard his footsteps come nearer to the bed.

Cunning little vixen.

Peter hadn
’
t intended to disturb her so soon. She
’
d been up practically all of the night, and her condition when he
’
d left her this morning was questionable. And yet, other than inhaling a lung full
of smoke, she had seemed unharmed, and he hadn
’
t seen the need to call a physician. Apparently neither had her assistant.

“
I trust you slept well enough?
”

“Oh..
. yes, thank you.
”
She pulled the blankets up just a bit.

Peter was feeling a bit ruthless perhaps, but he thought it long past his turn to
enter the game. He sat upon the bed, taking immense pleasure in her little gasp of
surprise.
“
Do you always wear your spectacles to bed?
”

Her brows lifted
above the rim of her dark lenses.
“
Well! No, of course not,
”
she said, and then rushed to explain,
“
But I am not in my own home, of course, and I know it makes some people uncomfortable—Mellie
woke me some time ago. She brought them to me.
”

It was a perfectly reasonable explanation—the beautiful little liar.

She was quite a resourceful actress. Her eyes were closed, he thought, though he couldn
’
t be certain. Her spectacles were so dark that it was difficult to see through them.
“
Not everything was lost in the fire,
”
he told her,
“
but we
’
ll not be able to go inside until they clean up the debris and make certain the structure
is not damaged. Tomorrow perhaps, but for now they are still working on it.
”

“
I see,
”
she replied.

“
The wardrobe is in one piece, though I cannot vouch for its contents. In the meantime,
you are quite welcome to use whatever you find in this room. They were my wife
’
s,
”
he said matter-of-factly.
“
If I am not mistaken, the two of you are quite similar in build.
”

Her head lowered just a bit.
“
How generous, but I
’
m not certain I would feel very comfortable doing such a thing. They were your wife
’
s after all.
”

“
I can assure you, Sarah, she
’
ll not mind.
”

She stiffened at his morbid attempt at humor.
“
Thank you, but it will hardly be necessary. My assistant brought me some of my own
clothes.
”

He must be certain to be more aware of their comings and goings in the future. Somehow
he
’
d missed a perfect opportunity to follow Mel.
“
How prudent of her,
”
he said.

“
She is quite foresight—
”

He knew the very instant she opened her eyes, and he smiled softly at her reaction.
She gasped at the sight of him.

“
—ful...
”

Sarah choked on her words.

Good God! It was all she could do not to shriek and glance away. He was dressed only
in his trousers, no shirt at all, and she thought she would die with mortification.
And yet what the blazes could she say to him? Not a blasted thing! Because she wasn
’
t supposed to know he was seated before her
—
good Lord! on her bed! half naked! She couldn
’
t even look away lest he wonder.

Her face heated to such a degree that she knew he must see her blush, but he didn
’
t say a word, he merely sat there conversing with her much too pleasantly. Sarah didn
’
t understand a word he was saying. His voice was a drone in her ears, overwhelmed
as it was by the thundering of her heart.

She swallowed the knot in her throat and tried to focus on his words.

“
I sincerely hope last night
’
s fire will not frighten you away,
”
he was saying to her.
“
I am committed to my son
’
s education, Miss Hopkins, and am quite impressed with both your knowledge of the
code and the way you have dealt with my son.
”

The words were recognizable, though they didn
’
t seem to register.
“
What?
”

His lips curved into a wicked little smile.
“
Will you stay?
”

If Sarah didn
’
t know better, she would think he was taunting her. She blinked behind her spectacles.
“
Where?
”

“
Here,
”
he answered too patiently, and his eyes glittered with what Sarah thought was amusement
at her expense. And yet it couldn
’
t possibly be.
“
Will you stay and teach my son?
”

“Of... course.”

“
He
’
s growing quite fond of you, I
’
m afraid.
”