Three Redeemable Rogues

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  “I cannot help it, Mellie!”

  The two of them had been inseparable since Sarah had sought her out three years earlier. She’d gone to Mel hoping for instruction in dealing with the teaching and rearing of blind children, and had been stunned to find that Mel Frank was in fact Melissa Frank. Sarah had been horrified at her own discrimination, especially since she loathed it in others.

  She’d been so mortified to have made such an error of judgment based on the biases of society that she’d apologized to Mel until Mel had been driven to shush her. The two of them had laughed so hard afterward, and Sarah had left the Institute with a new best friend.

  “What time are we scheduled to arrive?”

  “Two p.m.,” Sarah replied.

  “Try to calm yourself,” Mel advised her. “It won’t do you any good to make yourself ill with worry.”

  “What if I cannot act the part?” Sarah fretted. “What if he discovers my ruse?”

  Mel watched her nervous strides with a patience Sarah had come to admire. “Yes,” she dared to agree, “what if he does?”

  It was a question Sarah had not permitted herself to ponder long—perhaps because the answer terrified her.

  “What is the worst that could happen?” Mel asked her, forcing her to consider the consequences.

  Sarah cast her friend a disbelieving glance at the question.

  “Come now, Sarah... indulge me. At worst...”

  Sarah didn’t have to think about the answer. “If he killed the mother of his own son—” she began, and couldn’t continue.

  “Then he could most certainly do away with you easily enough?” Mel said, daring to finish her thought.

  “Well, yes!” Sarah clasped her hands together, wringing them.

  A genuine look of concern reentered Mel’s eyes. “But are you willing to walk away, Sarah? Can you do that?”

  “No.”

  There was no question of that at all.

  Sarah would never be able to live with herself were she to walk away now that she finally had the opportunity to learn the truth.

  “I cannot, Mel. You know that.”

  “Well, then... you’ve really no choice in the matter, have you?”

  Sarah shook her head in answer. She truly didn’t. “If Mary’s journal remains in that house, I will find it, Mellie, I swear to God I will!”

  “I have every faith you will,” Mel assured, her blue eyes twinkling with something like admiration. Sarah cringed at the sight of it. She didn’t deserve any such esteem. She’d bloody well failed Mary when Mary had most needed her. Had Sarah been there, had she been at Mary’s side, her cousin might well be alive today.

  If Mary had only had someone to talk to... to confide in... If she hadn’t felt so isolated, with nowhere to turn…

  Now was the time to make amends.

  “Always wear your spectacles,” Mel suggested, her voice firm. “You need not remove them save to sleep,” she persisted. “And try not to hold anyone’s gaze directly.”

  “I’ll not,” Sarah assured her.

  Her expression grew resolute. “And keep your eyes closed as much as possible, unless you are absolutely certain you are alone and need not be on your guard. It is easier to be blind when you cannot see,” she suggested, and winked to add a bit of levity to the soberness of the discussion.

  Sarah nodded, storing the advice, trying to remember everything. Her nerves were at their ends.

  “Oh, and use your cane as I have shown you. Make your way by it even when you think you need not.”

  The last-minute flood of advice infused Sarah with a sense of panic. She froze in her step and peered up at the woman sitting so calmly upon the divan.

  “Blast, Mellie!” she said. “You’ve not changed your mind, have you? You’ll be coming with me, right?”

  “Of course, Sarah. But I cannot be at your side every instant, else he will never believe I am simply your aide. That is why I told you to ask him whether I might make use of his servants’ quarters. God only knows I have never aspired to such a thing, but there you have it—a servant must act as a servant, as you have already pointed out.”

  “Yes,” Sarah agreed, nodding, her thoughts racing. “Yes. You are right, of course. I just cannot think straight now.”

  “I can well imagine.”

  Sarah chewed nervously upon her bottom lip, trying to recall if she had indeed remembered to ask for a room in the servants’ quarters. She certainly hoped so.

  “Anyway, I know you’ll take good care of me,” Mel said, with a laugh. “I cannot live long without some of life’s little luxuries. Take pity on me and sneak me something sweet once in a while. I shall be content enough then.”

  Sarah peered up at her, and Mel winked again.

  She could scarcely wait to see Christopher again, to spend time with him alone, to get to know him.

  “Braille is not such a difficult code, Sarah, so don’t worry. I shall only caution you once more that when you practice them, do not practice them by sight.”

  “I have not once done so,” Sarah assured.

  “Very good.”

  “If I can only remember to keep my head.”

  “You will,” Mel replied, without hesitation.

  “I’ve no choice,” Sarah agreed.

  “No, you don’t, Sarah.” The two of them shared an anxious glance. “Not unless you care to find your toes cocked up—and mine as well,” she added with nervous laughter.

  Sarah felt a renewed sense of gratitude for Mel’s friendship and help. “I shall never be able to thank you enough for making this cause your own, Mel.”

  Mel smiled. “Yes, you will... by discovering the truth and doing what is right for that precious little boy.”

  Sarah returned the smile. “He is precious, isn’t he?”

  “Quite,” Mel agreed.

  “You know I intend to do the best for him.”

  “No doubt,” Mel said, and then asked the dreaded question, “Are you ready to go, Sarah?”

  Sarah took a deep breath and steeled herself. “Ready as I ever shall be.”

  Mel gave her an approving nod and rose at once from the divan. “That’s my girl!” she said. “I’ll send for a cab. Wish us luck,” she suggested.

  “Luck!” Sarah replied with resolve. “But not for us ...” She laughed a bit, her stomach turning with anticipation of the ominous task before them. “For the unfortunate person who is bound to try to steal our hansom ... because I know he’s like to find himself flat upon his back and your umbrella up his nose!”

  Mel returned a chuckle. “How true,” she agreed, throwing her hands up as she went. “These rude city men think they were born with the right. I shall show them all, I think!”

  Sarah chuckled as she watched Mel go, considering how very much like her cousin Mel was. And she suddenly missed Mary fiercely.

  “I will not fail you, Mary,” she whispered. “I swear to God I will not!”

  If there was a journal to be found, Sarah would find it. And if Peter Holland was a murderer... he would pay dearly. Sarah intended to see to it.

  “Peter James Holland!”

  Peter cringed at his sister’s use of his full name. He loathed when she did that, but it was a habit she might never break.

  “Good God! I cannot believe you would bring a strange woman into this house. You do not even know her! What sort of example do you think it will set for your son?”

  Peter rolled his eyes but didn’t halt his stride. “Damn it, Ruth,” he answered, “she is not my lover, she’s my son’s bloody instructor!”

  Ruth’s fury was unmistakable. She followed him down the hall as he made his way toward his office, all the while shrieking her protests at his back. Christ, but that voice of hers enlightened him as to why some men did murder their wives.

  “Don’t you think it rather strange that the majority of your applicants were men,” she continued to rail, “and yet you hire the young beautiful woman!”

  D
amn, but Sarah was lovely, he allowed himself to acknowledge. Lovelier than any woman had a right to be. And vaguely familiar, too, he thought... 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. “Will 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 sister was just a little bit right... because something like 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 scrap 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 hea
d 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.”