The Perfect Wife Read Online Free PDF Page A

tell Belinda what she searched for or what she planned to do when she found it.
    In the first place, the child had no inkling of their financial difficulties. And secondly, Sabrina had done an excellent job of raising Belinda to take her place in society, to assume her birthright as the daughter of a marquis. Brought up in the proper surroundings, given the proper education and training, with the expectation of assuming the proper position in life, Belinda would never understand how her mother could even consider searching for something so ludicrous as lost treasure.
    Perhaps she had done too good a job. The child was beautiful and charming, with all the social graces, but she didn’t seem to have much of an imagination. The reckless streak inherent in both her mother and father appeared to have bypassed Belinda completely. Realistically, as a concerned and loving parent, that was all for the good, but occasionally it would have been nice to have a daughter with whom one could share one’s more outrageous, even scandalous, dreams. However, there was little she could do about it now.
    Sabrina stepped away from the door and surveyed the library. Even when Jack was alive it had been her own private place. He thought of it simply as the kind of room a man of his position ought to have. But from the first Sabrina loved it. Loved the dark wood shelves reaching heavenward, flanking the floor-to-ceiling bowed window. Loved the gray marble mantelpiece and the deep red of the walls. Loved the snug warmth and comfort that seemed to surround and soothe her whenever she stood amid its confines. Even the scent of books and leather and wisdom called to her.
    And Sabrina was grateful to have it. Jack inherited the town house years before their marriage, and on his death she discovered it was virtually the only thing he owned free and clear.
    The letter had to be here, if indeed he had saved and hidden it. This, and Jack’s bedchamber, were the only rooms that had not been redecorated in the last decade. The letter would have been found years ago if it had been secreted anywhere else in the house.
    If it isn’t all a joke
, an annoying voice in the back of her mind chimed rudely. Sabrina ignored the thought. Jack never quite grew up, never quite accepted the responsibilities of adulthood and, real or a hoax, the mere idea of a lost treasure would have appealed to him. She was certain he would have kept the letter, if only for the spirit of the quest.
    But where? She clenched her hands in frustration. This willy-nilly search would get her nowhere. She had to take this logically, rationally and methodically. Assess the possibilities and proceed one step at a time.
    Sabrina drew a calming breath and turned toward the wall to her left. Paintings covered the crimson surface; Winfield family portraits, landscapes, still lifes, most of them with only sentimental value. Could the letter be hidden behind one of them? Not a far-fetched possibility, but probably not quite clever enough to suit Jack’s sense of humor. And none of the paintings touched on the theme of treasure or gold or even Egypt.
    She turned to face the bookshelves, now half empty, their contents lying scattered on the floor. So far, her search here had been futile. Was there a volume still untouched that held his secret? Was a clue concealed in the gold-scripted title on its spine?
    The fireplace dominated the third wall, its simple, classic lines revealing no obvious hiding place. Her gaze strayed upward to the portrait of Jack centered over the mantel. His bright blue eyes danced in his strong face, the unruly quality of his golden blond hair captured by the artist. The slight, amused smile playing forever on his lips.
    “Jack.” She sighed. “Why couldn’t you have made this easy for me? God knows nothing else was easy after you died.”
    Sabrina shook her head and smiled back at the painting. There had been a time when she couldn’t smile at the thought of her husband.