Perfect in My Sight (5 page)

Damn, but Sarah was lovely, he allowed himself to acknowledge. Lovelier than any woman
had a right to be. And vaguely familiar, too, he thou
ght.
.. as
though he knew her somehow..
. and yet he
’
d never set eyes upon that face before.

He would have remembered.

He entered his office and made his way to his desk, refusing to address his sister
’
s question.
“
Were there no qualified men, Peter?
”

She
’
d not been blind forever, she had said. What sort of accident had robbed her of her
sight? Curiosity needled him.

He sighed at his sister
’
s tirade.
“
It seems I
’
m damned if I do, damned if I don
’
t, Ruth. Had I hired a man, you would have blasted me to Hades for that, as well.
”

“
What was wrong with the older woman?
”
his sister demanded to know.

“
She was a bitch,
”
Peter answered without mincing words and without compunction.
“
Christopher doesn
’
t need a goddamned attendant!
”

Ruth gasped in outrage, at his language, he knew.
“
You are such a crude man, Peter! Just like your mother!
”

He peered up from the papers he had begun to sort, and raised a brow at her accusation.
The two of them had shared the same father, but not the same mother. Ruth was the
older by far at thirty-nine to his twenty-eight years, and was as yet unwed—it had
never been difficult for him to understand why. He had long ago ceased to allow her
to bait him about his mother—a fact that particularly seemed to nettle her.
“
If you mean plainspoken, yes, my mother was quite so.
”

Ruth narrowed her eyes at him, but didn
’
t dare continue in the current vein. It had always been clear Ruth disliked his mother.
His mother had been beautiful and vibrant, and Ruth seemed resentful of the fact that
their father had doted upon her. And yet despite her feelings toward his mother, she
had never taken them out upon Peter directly. If anything, she had mothered him fiercely,
and though he had despised her controlling demeanor, he appreciated her devotion to
him and to Christopher, nonetheless.

After Mary
’
s death, Ruth had moved onto the estate with them and had, at once, taken over the
rearing of his son. He
’
d been grateful for her presence, particularly so in the first years after Mary
’
s death. He hadn
’
t quite been able to function well enough. And he trusted Ruth fully. He did not,
however, appreciate her manipulations, as he was no longer a child in need of direction.

He set his papers aside.
“
Ruth,
”
he began patiently.
“
Not that I need to justify my decision to you, in any case, but she was the best applicant
by far. She simply happens to have a pretty face, as well. Leave off!
”

“
That remains to be seen,
”
Ruth persisted.
“
All she has presented to you thus far is that pretty face.
”

“
Not true,
”
Peter countered.
“
You should have seen the way she spoke with Christopher. Christopher was comfortable
with her, and that counts for much.
”

“
I did see her with Christopher!
”
Ruth
shrieked with renewed vigor. “
And what I saw was a woman shamelessly using her wiles to snare a little boy. Disgusting
display if you ask me.
”

Peter shook his head.
“
I don
’
t care how she got him to speak. How often do you see Christopher so at ease with
strangers? You know that was one of my greatest concerns over hiring an instructor.
As I see it, Ruth, Sarah Hopkins is perfect for the position, and it is my wish that
you will make her feel at home during her interval with us.
”

“
Humph! Well, I shall, of course, but I do not like this. I am opposed to it, Peter,
and have been from the outset.
”

“
I know,
”
Peter said simply, sensing the turn in their conversation, and bracing himself once
more.

“
What point is there in teaching him to read? He is blind, Peter! Why can you not accept
that?
”

Peter tensed, restraining his temper.
“
Because my son is blind, Ruth,
”
he said with forced patience.
“
He is not crippled nor maimed—nor is he stupid. His mind is bright and he is willing
to learn. Someday, given the proper resources, he will be perfectly capable of running
this business.
”

Her hands went to her breasts in supplication.
“I
am here to care for him,
”
she reminded him.

Peter clenched his jaw.
“W
ill you always be?
”
he asked his sister, weary with this particular topic.

“
You push too hard, Peter. You want too much,
”
she accused once more, and Peter felt a stab of guilt.

Did he push his son too hard?

“
I don
’
t believe that,
”
he denied adamantly.

The door chime rang, saving him from their discussion.

Dismissing his sister, he rose from his seat.
“
In any case,
”
he told her,
“
it
’
s too late. That
will
be Miss Hopkins, and I would appreciate it if you would go and fetch my son.
”

One thing Ruth was not, was obedient to his every command.
“
I shall not go and fetch your son!
”
she returned angrily.
“
I will take no part in this charade
at all
. You do this against my greater advice, brother mine,
and I shall not be a part of it!”

Peter heard the door open and listened as Gunther ushered in their new guest.
“
Suit yourself,
”
he told her.
“
But you shall be courteous at all times,
”
he demanded of her.

Ruth glowered at him, shivering. She rubbed her arms.
“
I have a terrible premonition about this, Peter. Something about this woman disturbs
me. You will sorely regret this,
”
she warned, and turned and left him to follow her into the hall. She hurried away
from the front hall, but not in the direction of Christopher
’
s room.

“
Fetch your son yourself!
”

Shaking his head as he watched her go, he shrugged away whatever doubts his sister
had managed to instill in him and went to greet the woman who had somehow managed
to turn his household upside down after having scarcely set foot inside his door.

And perhaps his sis
ter was just a little bit right..
. because something l
ike butterflies took flight
in his breast at the mere thought of seeing her again.

CHAPTER
5

As they entered the foyer, Sarah’s second impression of the Holland estate was no
less ominous than her first.

She’d been far too nervous the first time to notice much of anything at all, but the
gloominess struck her once more as she entered. Dark, rich woods adorned the floors
and banisters, and the paper upon the wall was far from cheery, with its deep midnight
blues, burgundies, and a touch of rich gold.

The sight of Peter Holland at the end of the long corridor turned her legs to water.

His expression was as dark and ominous as the decor of his house.

And yet... there was something about him...

Something that had snared Mary and had turned her from everything and everyone she
had loved.

And God help her... something that appealed to Sarah as well... even knowing who he
was... what he might be... her heart turned somersaults against her ribs.

She watched him approach and tried not to swoon with trepidation over the monumental
task she had set before herself, and so she tried to focus, instead, on the good things
that would come of it. Seeing and spending time with Christopher, even if she failed
to find those journals and prove Peter an unfit father, would make it all worthwhile.

Now that she had seen her cousin’s child, she could no more walk away than she had
been able to forgive Mary for abandoning her all those years ago.

Peter walked toward them, wearing a smile now that was meant to disarm—instinctive
perhaps—but Sarah refused to allow it. She needed every strap of her armor to keep
her wits about her. Somewhere deep within, she knew that.

The man was a rake and ruthless at the very least, a murderer at worst.

“Miss Hopkins,” he said in greeting. “I trust your preparations went well?”

“Quite,” Sarah replied without meeting his gaze. She kept a blind stare upon the corridor’s
end, upon the distant glow of the lamp within his office.

However was she going to do this?

“I shall see them in, Gunther,” he said to his butler, and sent the man ahead with
their luggage to ensconce within their rooms.

“When shall you bring the rest?”

“The rest?” His very proximity made her head swim. “The rest of what?”

Too many emotions vied within her: Anger, too much that had never been dealt with.
Sadness, that she was such a stranger in her cousin’s home—Mary had had an entire
life Sarah had never been a part of. And something else. Lord, she could deny it if
she wished to but what good would it do her? Sarah prided herself on being a realist.
Peter Holland had been born with a face and presence that made women’s hearts pound—and
not entirely with fear.

“The remainder of your luggage,” he said, and gently took her by the arm to lead her.
She followed as he urged her, wincing at the warmth of his hand as it remained upon
her arm.

“Oh! Of course.”

Good lord, his touch was unnerving her.

She wished to God he would release her, but didn’t dare ask. It wasn’t supposed to
disturb her so, she reminded herself. As a blind woman, she should be more than accustomed
to the guidance of others. And yet... this was Peter Holland’s hand upon her, not
just anyone’s.

“This will be all, I’m afraid, as I don’t find the need for much, Mr. Holland. It
is a failing of mine, I’m certain, but it is not so easy to remember to adorn myself
for others when I cannot see it myself.” She didn’t dare look at him, and hoped she
sounded
blind. She had no idea where the remark had come from, but it made sense to her.

“I understand,” he replied. “Forgive me?”

When the sky fell, she would!

“Of course,” Sarah replied sweetly. “How could you know?”

“Because it makes perfect sense,” he said, and tightened his grip upon her arm. He
drew her around a corner. “I hope your quarters will suit you. I thought to settle
you near the nursery. Christopher no longer uses the room, but it will be perfect
for your lessons, and there is also a room adjoined to it with full amenities. It
is one of the few as yet equipped with facilities. My wife saw it so, as she used
it regularly. She planned to update the other rooms as well, but only this one and
the master chambers were completed before she passed away. I’ve not had the time or
the inclination to see to them myself, and my sister has had her hands full with my
son. I’m sorry.”

Was he going to ensconce her where Mary had slept? Where she had died as well?

A shudder passed through her. The notion both terrified and pleased her at once. She
shuddered again, hoping he wouldn’t acknowledge it, and said quietly, “It is more
than I am accustomed to, I’m certain.”

She felt his gaze boring into her, and the corridor, good Lord, seemed to grow darker
the closer they got to their destination. It was her imagination, certainly, as the
decor had scarcely changed, but for the richly woven carpets that stretched beneath
their feet now, softening their footfalls. Over the thundering of her heart, she could
barely hear Mel as she followed quietly behind them.

He pointed out the nursery as they passed it, then stopped at the very next door.

It had been left ajar for them, and inside Sarah could see the few pieces of her own
luggage that Gunther had carried ahead. Gunther, however, was nowhere to be seen.
As they entered, she saw that the door to the nursery, too, had been left ajar, and
then she heard a hall door open and close once more. Gunther, she thought. He’d departed
through the nursery, and she made a mental note that her room was accessible through
the nursery as well.

“You should find the room easy enough to navigate,” he reassured her. “For Christopher’s
sake, we keep our decor rather sparse here.”

It was true. There was very little excess furniture about to tumble over—in her room,
only a bed, a small nightstand, and a wardrobe upon the far wall.

Was this, then, the room where Mary had slept?

Upon the left wall there was a small window. Sarah stared at it, wondering, fearing
it might be the window through which the intruder had entered. It wouldn’t behoove
her, however, to ask, and she blinked away the thoughts, reminding herself that the
papers had said the intruder had come in through the nursery itself, shattering the
glass window above the crib. No crib here. This was not the nursery... and yet...
this had to be where Mary had slept... where she had been awakened from her slumber
that night...

The images tormented her.

She shoved them resolutely aside.

“How would you like to proceed?” he asked, bringing her back to their present discussion.
“Do you wish me to give you some time to settle in before meeting with Christopher
or shall I lead you there directly?”

Sarah’s first inclination was to go to Christopher, but her hands were shaking, and
her thoughts were entirely too scattered. “I think I would appreciate a few moments
to settle,” she said. “That might be better, so I may spend the time with your son
free of that task later.”

“I understand,” he said, and proposed, “Perhaps we should wait, then, and see you
at dinner?”

The suggestion surprised her. “Christopher shares your evening meals?”

He smiled at her. “Of course.”

“You must be very close, then? The two of you...”

He answered without hesitation. “He is my son, Miss Hopkins.”

“Yes, of course. I didn’t mean to imply...”

“I know,” he said, dismissing the subject once and for all, and turned to address
Mel, who had stood quietly in the doorway, listening to their discourse. “I suppose
I shall leave you, then... to settle... and I’ll lead Mrs. Frank to the servants’
quarters.”

Mel said nothing, and Sarah felt a twinge of panic at the prospect of a separation.
“Yes,” she answered anyway. And added, “Thank you.” She dared to meet Mel’s gaze only
briefly through her dark glasses. Mel’s expression, ever calm, eased her.

“Till tonight,” he suggested, and ushered Mel away, closing the door behind them,
leaving Sarah for the first time alone.

Why did he feel he knew her?

Something in Sarah Hopkins’ manner was entirely too familiar, and Peter found himself
experiencing a strange sense of
deja vu.

He peered down at the woman who had accompanied her into his home. “How long have
you been working for Miss Hopkins?”

She hesitated before answering. “Oh, about three years.”

“She seems quite a remarkable woman,” Peter proposed, watching her curiously.

Mrs. Frank was a strange paradox of a woman; nothing about her seemed remotely subservient,
not from their first introduction. He supposed it was a trait necessary in a blind
woman’s aide. He was certain it was nothing at all the same position as it would be
to work for the seeing. Sarah needed guidance, and it was Mrs. Frank’s duty to give
it.

“She is,” Mrs. Frank replied.

“I’m curious. How did you come to work for her?”

“My husband was blind,” she replied. “I suppose I chose this career for the same reason
Miss Hopkins chose to enter the teaching profession. It was a fine way of turning
a bad experience to some greater good.”

“That is quite commendable.”

She smiled up at him, her blue eyes twinkling. “Not at all, Mr. Holland. Some of us
deal with unfortunate circumstances by accepting a sort of premature death. Others
use them to live by.”

Sage words. Peter digested them, and said, “I think we shall get along quite well,
Mrs. Frank.”

She peered up at him and surprised him with a wink. “If not, then I can always find
my way to the door, Mr. Holland. Can’t I?”

Her reply brought a smile to Peter’s lips. Saucy woman. Remembering Sarah’s tart replies
to him during her interview, he was not the least surprised that the two of them got
along so famously.

For himself, he seemed quite partial to strong women—they intrigued him.

The last woman who had spoken to him so defiantly... he’d ended up marrying; he was
going to have to continue to remind himself what a disaster that had turned out to
be.

Peter knew he was prying, but couldn’t seem to help himself. While he wouldn’t consider
broaching such a tender subject with Sarah, he hardly saw the harm in asking Mrs.
Frank. The worst she could do was to tell him to mind his own affairs.

Still, he hesitated. “You wouldn’t happen to know... how Miss Hopkins lost her sight?’
‘

She peered up at him and gave him a look that warned him it was, indeed, a delicate
topic. “Terrible accident,” she replied, and shook her head. “I wouldn’t bring it
up, were I you. She lost a fiance in that accident that day, along with her sight.”

“Fiance?” Peter’s brows lifted. Why did that bit of knowledge disturb him? She was
hardly a child, nor was her personal life any of his affair. Nor should he be surprised
that someone so lovely would have found herself attached.

“Any more than that,” Mel added, dismissing the topic, “and you shall have to ask
Sarah, I’m afraid.”

Peter fully intended to—not that he had any right to know, but when had that ever
stopped him before?

No, Sarah Hopkins was quite an interesting woman, and he found himself intrigued.

He hadn’t left her with a light, but Sarah supposed he hadn’t thought she’d need one.
What need had a blind woman for a light to see by? No, she would simply have to make
do.

Her room was not large, but hardly was it small. And yet it seemed cavernous with
its notable lack of furnishings. Bathed in shadows as it was, the room seemed permeated
by something dark, almost sinister. Sarah inspected every nook and every cranny with
keen eyes.

If Mary had used this room, little remained as evidence to the fact. There were no
portraits upon the walls or furnishings, nothing at all of Mary’s taste to remind
her, and yet... something of Mary was here... or perhaps it was merely Sarah’s imagination.
Perhaps it was due to the fact that she knew the room’s history. No matter, she liked
to think she and Mary still had some connection of sorts.

Silly, perhaps, but somehow she liked to think Mary would guide her now.

The bed was a small one, occupying a corner of the room almost inconspicuously. The
bed coverings themselves were nondescript and blended with the shadows. And the view
from the single window was obscured by shades that were drawn.

Sarah made her way to the window, lifting the shade to peer outside. It slipped from
her grasp and sprang open, letting in daylight and scattering dust motes.

A group of small children played upon the street, batting at rocks with sticks.

They must be about Christopher’s age, she thought... perhaps a year or two older.
But Christopher would never join them.