“I don’t know what you mean,” she whispered. “You say things and I don’t know if you are sincere or mocking me. It is disconcerting. That is why I stopped speaking.”
Mr. Grant raised his eyebrow in question. “Is that so?”
She nodded. “Like when you said it was ambitious of us to open a private school. Do you actually admire us or do you feel we are behaving unnaturally for women and believe we will fail? Others have said as much. And the way you mentioned how I fetch the post and make visits with Mr. Pomeroy. Your tone and inflection made me feel ridiculed for doing such things, even though I enjoy them. I dislike conversations where I have to second-guess everything being said to me.”
Oh my, what a sense of exhilaration to speak her mind! Sara continued. “Mr. Pomeroy said you were cynical and I feel I must agree with him. You are not making it easy to welcome you and your cynicism does not endear you to others.”
Mr. Grant looked at her for a long moment. “Perhaps I am cynical. Perhaps it is for a good reason.” He stepped away from her, dropping his hand from his chin. Her skin felt chilled from the sudden lack of contact. “Perhaps I do not wish to endear myself to anyone.”
“If you wish to live the life of a hermit,” she replied, “then you have come to the wrong place. People in Taft are very open and welcoming, generous with their time and affection.”
“Remember, I have seen their welcoming nature in the form of uninvited guests.”
“To which you reacted most abhorrently.”
“Abhorrent?” He let out a humorous laugh. “Ah, the governess is taking me to task. How novel.”
There was no mistaking his tone now. The cynicism was back in full force, making itself known in his cutting words. Sara swallowed, her confidence fleeing; her reprieve was over. She could see it in his glacial eyes and the downward curl of his mouth.
“You do not know the true meaning of ‘abhorrent,’ Miss Collins,” Mr. Grant continued, his cold tone biting. “I assure you that you have never experienced the sort of twisted souls I have and you likely would not recognize them if you did. These people disguise themselves in well-tailored clothing and proper manners, twittering and giggling and speaking and shouting of bettering the world while selling their allegiances and beliefs for nothing more than a few guineas and a slap on the back. These people, these lying mongrels, are so depraved I doubt even Beelzebub himself would welcome them.”
Mr. Grant had become so vehement that Sara took several steps back. He sneered at her. “Do not think to teach me the meaning of abhorrence. I reek of it and it will take more than a quaint country town to cleanse me. My life as an anchorite is well deserved, for I am so polluted I infect the very nature of what surrounds me.”
It was a morbid fascination that kept Sara’s eyes riveted on his face. As she watched, the loathing in his expression shifted until it was directed at himself; she could identify the very moment his eyes registered the reality of his words and the self-hatred appeared.
With another sneer she knew was not intended for her, he said, “It appears I am still not fit for company. Pray excuse me.” He turned his back on her, marched into the clearing and disappeared into the distance. His limp was more pronounced.
Sara stared at the departing man in such shock she did not notice the ants in her throat until it was too late. Even as the noose closed around her throat, she couldn’t help but think that Mr. Pomeroy had been accurate in stating the man had a wounded soul. She struggled to breathe, stumbling to a tree to lean against for support. In two three four, out two three four.
Oh dear heavens, the poor man is practically begging for help.
CHAPTER FIVE
* * *
The door swung open and Nathan stepped into the darkening library. His eyes adjusted to the fading light, noting the shapes of the furniture, still shrouded in their dust covers. Dragging his leg, he moved farther into the room, the tap of his cane echoing against the bare marble floor. Standing in the middle, he turned in a circle, surveying the room. Either end boasted matching hearths with what he assumed were sofas, chairs and tables under the covers.