Anything rather than stay here one instant longer than necessary.
Norton trotted along beside her as she walked into the library where she’d left Perry and Caroline. Caroline was gone; Perry was absorbed in a book, a glass of butterscotch-colored liquid in one hand. He set down his drink as she entered.
“Rose,” he said. “What—”
He jumped up and caught her by the arms as she lost her balance, leading her to the heavy high-backed chair nearest the fireplace. “Are you ill?”
“No.” Good grief, what a time to learn to swoon in grand old Victorian fashion. “I’m fine, really.”
“Indeed?” He hovered over her until she convinced him by sitting up and meeting his eyes.
Dark Sinclair eyes. Not the eyes of a killer. That at least was resolved. Homer could rest in peace.
“Yes,” she assured Homer’s grandfather, smiling wryly. “Let’s just say it’s been a very interesting day. I know it’s a little early for a nightcap, but whatever you’re drinking, I wouldn’t mind having a sip of it myself.”
He was long past any surprise at her bluntness. He walked to a sideboard laden with glasses and bottles, poured her a small measure of amber liquid, and refilled his own glass.
“Thank you.” She took the glass, sniffed it, wrinkled her nose, and took a sip. When her fit of coughing had subsided, she cradled the glass between her hands, resolved not to try again but needing something to hold on to.
“It’s just not the same as a Dr Pepper,” she said. “I have something to tell you. And something to ask.” She glanced around the room. “Is Caroline all right?”
“She’s in the guest bedroom with Mei Ling.” Perry settled back in his chair, crossing his legs. “She’s found a cause of her own.”
“I have a feeling that she’ll be good at whatever she decides to do with her life. And you—You’ll let her make those decisions, won’t you?”
He laid his hand over his heart. “Your concern for Caroline touches me.” There was not irony but warmth in his tone. “I swear to you that Caroline will have all the freedom I can grant her once we’re married.”
Mac rubbed her foot along an intricate pattern in the carpet with great concentration. “You’ve talked to Liam.”
“There seems hope for a renewal of our friendship,” he said. He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a watch. A silver watch, battered and dented, that Mac recognized at once. “He insisted I take this back.”
The lump that hadn’t left her throat for the past several hours made it difficult to speak. “I’m so glad. I… wish I had time to get to know you and Caroline better. I wish I could stick around for your wedding, just to see it all through to the end.”
He stilled with his glass to his lips. “Are you leaving us?”
“Yes. I have to.”
“Why?”
“I’ve… come to see that I don’t belong here,” she said. “This is not my world, Perry. It never was. I can’t tell you more than that.”
Perry got up and strode to the sideboard. “It’s Liam, isn’t it? He blames you for all that’s happened. The fool. I’ll speak to him—”
“No. Please. There’s nothing you can do.”
His gaze was fixed on the row of bottles and glasses. “Then I was wrong to believe you loved him.”
So smooth and aristocratic, his voice, and so devastating his words.
“I told you it wasn’t something I can explain.”
He muttered something about damnable pride and idiocy. “I see. And what will become of Liam?”
“He doesn’t need a keeper. He certainly doesn’t need me to babysit him.” The glass in her hands was shaking, and she had to set it down. “I’ve done quite enough for him, don’t you think?”
Perry lifted his glass to her in ironic salute. “You would have made an admirable colleague in my old profession, Rose. I confess I don’t understand you.”
“You don’t have to. But if you feel I’ve done anything for you and Caroline, there’s something I’d ask in return. It isn’t much.” She grasped the leather thong around her neck and pulled the chip of Maya stone from under her jacket and T-shirt. “You have a pendant like this one.”