Perfect in My Sight by Tanya Anne Crosby Page B

reply that came
     to her lips and said instead, “Certainly,” and couldn’t help herself—she swung her
     cane and smacked him squarely in the shin.
    Blackguard!
    “Ouch!” he cried.
    “Oh, dear!” she pretended to fret. “Was that you?”
    “It was,” he said, and hopped along beside her an instant, massaging his leg. She
     could sense his frown even though she didn’t dare look at him.
    “Please do forgive me,” she said, her tone as dulcet as she could manage, and tried
     not to smile, because the vicious act did indeed make her feel better. Her uncle was
     right, she feared; she was a termagant.
    “Not a problem,” he replied, though she could still hear the frown in his tone. “You
     have quite a healthy grip on that cane, Miss Holland.” And then he continued, “At
     any rate, they would hardly embrace my son as a pupil at so early an age.”
    Sarah tightened her grip on her cane. “Have you considered that there might perchance
     be good reason for that?”
    “With most children perhaps,” he countered, “but I’m quite certain you’ve realized
     by now that Christopher is different from other children.”
    “Yes, he is,” Sarah agreed, her tone carefully subdued, lest she reveal her infamous
     temper. If Mary had been spirited, Sarah had been labeled temperamental, and rightly
     so. God help her, but she felt herself ready to explode even now. Her face heated
     with anger. “I’m uncertain, however, whether it is justifiable to exploit his talents
     at such an early age.”
    “Exploit?” There was genuine surprise in his voice at her veiled accusation. “That
     is a rather harsh view, Miss Hopkins. As I recall, you did not voice such an opinion
     at your interview. Why now?”
    Sarah was unsure how much to say about her discussion with his sister. She wasn’t
     even certain whether to reveal it at all. Ruth was hardly her ally in this, and yet
     she couldn’t blame the woman for trying to protect an innocent child. Sarah had gone
     to great lengths for just the same purpose.
    Then, too, she wasn’t entirely certain she could afford to make this an issue. If
     she dared to, and he released her from her duties, what then would she do? She had
     no proof of anything as yet, and if she went complaining to the authorities that Peter
     forced his son to study ... who would champion her? Nobody! They would applaud him
     in truth. At least Ruth, no matter that she did not seem to like Sarah, was looking
     out for Christopher’s best interests.
    His father was an overbearing oaf who expected too much of his son.
    “I should ask,” Sarah ventured, “why do you wish him to begin his studies so young?”
     It was a sensible enough question, Sarah thought, and she waited expectantly for his
     answer, certain that he could not have a very reasonable one.
    “I smell taffy!” Christopher exclaimed suddenly, averting their attention. “May we
     get some, Daddy? May we? May we?”
    Peter chuckled at his son’s enthusiasm. “I should have known you’d smell a vendor
     at ten paces. Why not?” he relented. “Wait here.”
    He left them standing beneath an old oak that was bearing its first leaves, just the
     two of them, and hurried after Christopher’s treat.
    “Are you having a good time, Christopher?” Sarah asked, as she watched his father,
     for the first time unheeded. His back was to them as he drew out some coins from his
     pocket, handing them to the vendor. He was quite a handsome man, she had to admit.
     He drew attention from women without even seeming aware of it. Sarah hadn’t missed
     the appreciative stares they’d received as they’d passed other female strollers in
     the park—even those hanging on the arms of their lovers.
    “Yes, ma’am!” Christopher answered.
    Sarah laughed. There was little doubt as to his enthusiasm by the expression on his
     face and the tone of his voice. “I suppose this is rather exciting,” Sarah agreed.
     “Much better than being