Caddy looked up from the green wool gauze and her heart quickened. Her imagination was playing tricks on her—or else Neal Stradbroke had just stepped from her daydream into her workroom. She’d been about to chide herself for allowing her thoughts to linger on him. Instead she chided her heart for reacting at the sight of him.
She could not allow herself to be happy to see him—to rejoice at his return—when she needed an explanation for why he’d left at such a crucial time. The Longrieves had needed him. She’d needed him.
“Good day, Dr. Stradbroke.”
“Good day, Miss Bainbridge. Miss Alice. Miss Leticia.” He nodded at each of the apprentices in greeting.
Setting aside the wool, Caddy brushed stray threads from her apron to give her shaking hands something to do as she rose. “You’ve returned from London, then?”
She couldn’t let him see that she knew how ridiculous the question was. He was standing here—of course he’d returned from London!
A twinkle sparkled in his blue eyes, though he kept his expression solemn. “Yes, I arrived not two hours ago. I stopped at the castle and saw Thomas and Johnny.” He ran his fingers through his golden-brown hair; a few flakes of soot from the train snowed down and disappeared into the gray of his traveling suit.
Caddy dropped the pretense of disinterest in his presence. “Are they well? We have been unable to visit them since the trial. We heard they are being readied to be taken to Portsmouth, where they will be put on the ship bound for Australia.” The very name of the place left a burning bitterness in the back of her throat.
“They will be on the train south tomorrow. That is why I came straight here—to find Mrs. Longrieve. I have a plan I believe will keep their family together, or at least allow them to be together after only a short separation; however, it must be acted upon quickly if it is to work.”
To her left and right, Caddy could feel the curiosity of Alice and Letty, who looked as if they were diligently bent over their sewing, but their needles had stopped moving in and out of the fabric.
“I will ask Mrs. Longrieve to join you upstairs in the sitting room.” Caddy moved to skirt around him, but he stopped her with a feather-light touch to her upper arm—though she’d never known the touch of a feather to burn so.
“Thank you for everything you have done for Mrs. Longrieve. Not for me, but on behalf of Thomas and Johnny.”
Caddy’s brows pulled together against her will, but she nodded as if he’d simply shared the London gossip. “We shall be up directly.”
She had to intentionally keep her head from turning to watch him walk out of the room and around the corner to the stairwell. She waited until she heard the door at the top of the stairs close before heaving a sigh and allowing herself the briefest moment of joy at his presence in her home.
And on pain of torture, she’d never admit how long she’d spent each night he’d been away staring out her bedroom window at the darkened portals above the apothecary across the street.
When Caddy entered the shop, Mrs. Longrieve stood at the other end of the long room, helping a woman who appeared to be someone she knew pick out a cotton calico fabric. Caddy listened for a moment as Mrs. Longrieve explained the benefits of cotton over linen or muslin for work-wear. No matter what Neal’s plan to get Thomas and Johnny released was, she intended to offer Winifred Longrieve a full-time position at the shop this very day.
“Phyllis, please take over for Mrs. Longrieve. Dr. Stradbroke needs to speak with her.”
“Yes, miss.” Phyllis scuttled around the main counter and down the long aisle of the store, and her counterpart came scurrying back with as much haste.
Caddy motioned for Mrs. Longrieve to follow her upstairs, and she did so without question.
When Caddy stepped into the sitting room, her breath caught in her throat, and she came close to swooning.
Dr. Stradbroke—tall, brawny, and devastatingly handsome—stood in the middle of the room with baby Ivy cradled in his arms, his cheek to her forehead, swaying to the rhythm of the old country tune he hummed to her.
Caddy pressed her hand to her chest and forced her lungs to fill with air again. He was just a man. Just a man holding a baby. Yet in that one instant, she’d caught a glimpse of the future she hoped to have. A future with him cradling and humming to their children.
Tears pricked her eyes at the unattainable happiness that came with the dream. For that’s all it would ever be—a dream—unless the good doctor decided he could be honest with her about his past and allow her to know and trust him fully.
At the creak of the floorboards, Neal turned slowly toward the door. Unless he was very much mistaken, those were unshed tears glittering in Caddy’s eyes. But why . . . ?
She wasn’t looking at him—at least, not eye to eye. Her gaze was fixed on Ivy in his arms. His heart leapt and his innards twisted with the realization that he was seeing love, or something quite like it, in her expression.
“Here.” Caddy’s mother stepped forward and reached for Ivy. “I will take her into the bedroom with me and put her down for a nap to give you time to talk.”
As soon as he handed the baby into Mrs. Bainbridge’s arms, Caddy seemed to come back to herself as if shoved by an invisible hand. “I shall leave you to your talk.” Caddy turned and softly latched the door behind her.
He waited until Winifred was seated before he perched on the front edge of the armchair with his back to the door.
“Have you discovered a way to free my man and boy, Doctor?” Mrs. Longrieve’s expectation bordered on frantic.
He cleared his throat . . . twice. “No. Sadly, I do not believe there is any way to free them. While I was in London on other business, I spoke with a few men of the law. They said that once someone is sentenced to transportation, it is nearly impossible to get it overturned. The judges and magistrates are paid too well for each man they send to the ships bound for Australia.”
Tears sprang to Mrs. Longrieve’s eyes. “Then they’re done for.”
“Not exactly.” Neal twisted the brim of his hat between his fingers. “You see, I have some money put aside. Quite a bit, actually. And when I was in London, I discovered it might be enough to convince a magistrate to commute the sentence of transportation.”
Mrs. Longrieve gasped, pressing long, calloused fingers to her dry lips.
He held up his hand. “Unfortunately, I do not have enough money at my immediate disposal to get both Thomas and Johnny released. And I would not ask you to choose between them.” Leaning forward, he pulled her hands away from her mouth and cradled them in his own, coming nearly off the edge of his chair to do so. “Instead of squandering the money on what could be a vain effort to try to get one of them released, I wish to propose a radical idea that will see your family reunited—in a way.”
She nodded, tears streaming down thin cheeks. “I will do anything to bring my family back together.”
Neal was glad Caddy had left the room. She would not only balk at his idea, she would decry it and do her best to convince Mrs. Longrieve not to go along with it.
“What is it, Doctor? What do I need to do?”
He cleared his throat one more time and tore his thoughts away from Caddy. “I have taken the liberty of booking passage for you on a ship leaving Portsmouth in four days’ time. I will send letters of introduction with you so that once you arrive, you will be shown the highest hospitality by a good family.”
Winifred stiffened and regarded him through narrow eyes, her head canted at an angle that screamed suspicion. “Arrive—where?”
His throat caught. He swallowed and looked her squarely in those questioning eyes. “Bathurst.” At her continued expression of askance, he added, “It is a town in New South Wales, Australia.”
Mrs. Longrieve gasped. “You’re suggesting I go to Australia with them?”
“Not with them, exactly. But you would be in the same vicinity.” He stood and paced to the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back. “Bathurst is a good place—much like the country villages here in England. And the people to whom I am sending you will care for you as if you are part of their own family.”
“How can you know that?” The fear in Winifred’s voice now had an edge of curiosity to it.
He regained his perch on the chair beside her. “Because the people I am sending you to are my family.”
He took her hands in his. “I do not expect you to make a decision right now, but I will need to know soon. I booked the tickets while I was in London, because there was no time to waste. The ship leaves Portsmouth early Tuesday morning. We would need to catch the evening train on Monday to ensure you are there in time to board.”
Mrs. Longrieve had gone chalky pale, but Neal knew it was from fear and indecision, not from any medical cause. “I shall call day after tomorrow to hear your decision. If you have any questions in the meanwhile, I am at your disposal. Oh, and I would appreciate it if you would not tell Miss Bainbridge of this arrangement.”
Winifred frowned. “Why? She has been nothing but good to me.”
“Miss Bainbridge can be . . . unreasonable when it comes to the subject of Australia.”
A slight smile deepened the lines bracketing Winifred’s mouth. “Aye. I’ve heard a few choice morsels about thieves and murderers from her over the past few days.” Her eyes narrowed. “I know you’re trying to protect yourself by not letting her know you have family there. But if my suspicions are correct and you’ve developed feelings for yon seamstress, best to tell her the truth as soon as you can. If she has the same feelings toward you, where your kin live won’t matter to her.”
“I hope you’re correct, but I must wait until I feel the time is right. I shall see you on Saturday.” He bowed to the woman, then let himself out of the room.
He was halfway across the street before he realized he’d left his valise behind the counter in the store. He paused, trying to decide if he should risk returning for it now or wait to get it when he returned in two days.
“Did you forget something?”
He closed his eyes against the waves of emotion Caddy’s voice brought. Slowly, he turned. She stood on the walkway outside her shop, his valise hanging loosely at her side as if she were accustomed to carrying heavy loads. Given her line of work and the absence of a man in her shop, she most likely was.
A few strides closed the distance between them. He reached for the bag, but when his fingers wrapped around the handle, they wrapped around Caddy’s fingers as well. Goose bumps raced up his arm at the contact, sending a frisson of electricity straight to his heart.
“May I know of your plan for Mrs. Longrieve?” She swallowed hard, but did not release the bag.
He wanted to tell her everything, but he did not believe she was ready to learn everything yet. “No. I am sorry. There are . . . delicate issues involved.”
“Were these issues what took you away to London?”
“Not precisely.”
She released a frustrated huff. “Then why did you go? The Longrieves needed you here for the trial. And some rather unsavory rumors have circulated ever since your sudden departure.”
He decided to enjoy the chance to hold Caddy’s hand, after a fashion, for as long as she wanted to keep possession of the handle of his valise. “What rumors?”
“That you are an inveterate gambler, and that Macquarie and Birchip work for a debt collector.” She dropped her gaze to where their fingers entwined and pulled away as if she hadn’t noticed his touch before.
He allowed the bag to swing down to his side. “I am no gambler, and I owe no debts.”
She shook her head. He’d expected her to look relieved by his statement, but her dour mood persisted. “It doesn’t matter if it is true or not—the rumors have permeated Oxford society. And I have . . .” She pressed her lips together and would not meet his gaze.
“You have . . . ?” he prompted.
She squared her shoulders and raised her chin, her stormy blue eyes meeting his. “I have had three customers cancel orders for gowns because, they told me, they do not want to patronize a seamstress who associates with a known reprobate.”
His heart sank. Never before had the secret of his past affected anyone but him. He’d managed to keep it hidden so well that no one in Hampshire had learned the truth until after Grandmamma’s death. And he’d been keeping his secret from Caddy—from everyone in North Parade and Jericho—to protect her. To keep this very thing from happening.
“Can you not tell me why you went to London? Can you not share with me what terrible thing happened in your past that you’re afraid others might find out?” Caddy took a step forward, her throat exposed as she lifted her chin high to maintain eye contact with him.
The words formed in the back of his throat. “I was—” The expectation in Caddy’s eyes, and the slight part of her lips, made his heart race. He could not bear to see her once again dissolve into anger and disgust. “I cannot. It is . . . If it became generally known, my medical practice would crumble.”
He backed away from her, ready for her to tell him to leave and never return.
She matched his steps, staying mere inches from him, even though she had to cant her head back fully to look up into his face. “I do not know what could be so bad that you cannot tell me, even knowing that I would keep any confidence you share. I will not try to force it from you. I hope, someday, you might come to trust me enough to tell me. However, there is something I must know.”
He steeled himself for the question he was certain she would ask, trying to decide if he was willing to lie to her about his place of birth.
“Can you promise me that you are not doing anything nefarious or criminal? I believe you are a man of integrity, but I may be risking my business by continuing to associate with you if your secret involves anything illegal.”
He set his valise on the street and clasped Caddy’s right hand in both of his, bringing it to his lips. The contrast of the soft skin on the back of her hand to the calluses on her fingertips and palms reminded him of everything he admired and respected about her. He pressed her hand to his chest over where his heart pounded. “I promise, I am involved in nothing criminal, nefarious, or illegal. And I swear that one day I will tell you all. But now . . . The time is not right.”
Her eyes flickered as they danced back and forth, searching his. Finally, she nodded. “Very well, then. Tea is in one hour. I hope you will join us.”
Neal opened then closed his mouth. After everything that had passed between them . . . after he’d told her he did not trust her enough to share his secret with her . . . she invited him to tea? “I would be honored.” He kissed the back of her hand again, released it, and picked up his valise.
She backed away from him until she bumped into a protruding window box with a slight grunt, her aim for the door having been slightly off.
He grinned at her, tipped his hat, and backed away a few steps until she disappeared inside the shop. She waved at him through the window in the door. He waved back. Then, whistling an old country tune, he returned to his flat to bathe and change clothes to be presentable for tea with Caddy Bainbridge.
She might not be ready now to hear of his origin, but he was certain—at least, he prayed he could be certain—that once she fell in love with him, she would not care that he’d been born in the place she seemed to hate the most.
He had a feeling that would not be too long from now.