She kicked off her shoes and placed them in the closet Jack showed her was hers. So many rows of empty shelves and rows of hangers without clothes. She’d never fill them. Sure, Jack had sent most of the purchases they’d made in Sydney ahead, so the closet wasn’t barren, but there was no way she’d ever have enough things to make this closet as orderly and packed as Jack’s. Patrick’s words troubled her. She was positive she’d never met the man, so how could he know a detail about her she’d never told anyone? In fact, except for the medical staff at the orphanage and the doctor she’d used in Sydney, nobody knew about that scar, and she hadn’t been able to tell her own physician how she’d got it. Lucky guess? But how many women had not only a scar, but a jagged one on their stomach? Jack was particularly attentive after dinner. He’d insisted she change into a dressing gown, a lovely peignoir. She figured he must’ve purchased it when she wasn’t watching.
