Loving Rose: The Redemption of Malcolm Sinclair (Casebook of Barnaby Adair) Read Online Free PDF Page B

concealed by his clothes. His hands had survived well enough, at least after Roland had finished with them, to pass in all normal circumstances. The only obvious outward signs of his injuries were his left leg, stiff from the hip down, and the cane he needed to ensure he kept his balance.
    He was trying to see himself through her eyes, and, admittedly, he was still capable sexually, but, really, how could she possibly see him as a threat?
    He’d reached that point in his fruitless cogitations when he realized he was the object of someone’s gaze. Glancing to the right, he saw two children—a boy of about ten and a girl several years younger—staring at him from around the corner of the house.
    As they didn’t duck back when he saw them, he deduced that they had a right to be there . . . and that they might well be the reason for his new housekeeper’s caution.
    The little girl continued to unabashedly study him, but the boy’s gaze shifted to Silver.
    Even from this distance and angle, Thomas saw the longing in the boy’s face. “You can pat him if you like. He’s oldish and used to people. He won’t bite or fuss.”
    The boy looked at Thomas; his eyes, his whole face, lit with pleasure. “Thank you.” He stepped out from the house and walked calmly toward Silver, who saw him, but, as Thomas had predicted, the horse made no fuss and allowed the boy to stroke his long neck, which the lad did with all due reverence.
    Thomas watched the pair, for, of course, the girl trailed after her brother; from their features, Thomas was fairly certain they were siblings, and related to his new housekeeper. He’d also noticed the clarity of the boy’s diction, and realized that it, too, matched that of the woman who had opened the door. Whoever they were, wherever they had come from, it wasn’t from around here.
    “Nor,” Thomas murmured, “from any simple cottage.”
    There could, of course, be many reasons for that. The role of housekeeper to a gentleman of Mr. Thomas Glendower’s standing would be an acceptable post for a lady from a gentry family fallen on hard times.
    Hearing footsteps approaching on the other side of the door, rather more slowly this time, Thomas picked up his cane and levered himself back onto his feet. He turned to the door as the woman opened it. She held his black notebook in her hand, opened to the front page.
    Rose looked out at the man who had told her what date she would find in the black-leather-covered notebook in her absent employer’s locked desk drawer—a drawer she knew had not been opened during all the years she’d been in the house. Hiding her inward sigh, she shut the book and used it to wave him in as she pulled the door wide. “Welcome home, Mr. Glendower.”
    His lips twitched, but he merely inclined his head and didn’t openly gloat. “Perhaps we can commence anew, Mrs. . . . ?”
    Her hand falling, Rose lifted her chin. “Sheridan. Mrs. Sheridan. I’m a widow.” Looking out to where Homer and Pippin were petting Glendower’s horse, she added, “My children and I joined the Gattings here four years ago. I was looking for work, and the Gattings had grown old and needed help.”
    “Indeed. Having added up the years, I now realize that was likely to have occurred. I haven’t visited here for quite some time.”
    So why had he had to return now? But Rose knew there was no point railing at Fate; there was nothing for it but to allow him in, to allow him to reclaim his property—it was his, after all. She no longer had any doubt of that; quite aside from the date in the book, she would never have found the hidden compartment in the clock if he hadn’t told her of it. She’d handled the clock often enough while dusting and had never had any inkling that it contained a concealed compartment. And the clock had been there for at least the last four years, so how could he have known? No, he was Thomas Glendower, just as he claimed, and she couldn’t keep him out of