“Look at me,” she said.
He raised his eyes. She studied his face for a long moment, the way someone examines an object they have contemplated from a distance and finally permitted themselves to see up close. He could not read her expression. In his experience, the faces of authority meant danger, indifference, or discipline. This expression was none of those things, which made it the most perilous thing he had ever witnessed.
“Do you know why I came here tonight?” she asked.
“No, ma’am,” he replied quietly.
“I came because I could not rest,” she said, looking toward the small window. “The main house felt like a tomb tonight, and I needed to be somewhere else.”
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