25

MATTHEW ALLOWED the clickety-clack of the train to lull him into a stupor. Anything to keep from obsessing about the strange turn his life had taken. Phoebe slept with her head pillowed on his lap, exhausted from her tears at leaving Irish Meadows. The Whelan children had come to the house to say their good-byes, with hugs and assurances that they’d look after Patches until he was old enough to bring home. Only the fact that Deirdre was accompanying them, as well as Matthew’s promise to return and pick up the puppy before Christmas, had calmed Phoebe.

In the seat across from them, Deirdre stared out the window, her brow creased in a frown. Was she already regretting her decision?

A trainload of guilt weighed on Matthew’s conscience. First, for leaving Kathleen, although she had assured him she would continue her exercises under the supervision of Nurse Cramer, whom James had hired again until Deirdre returned. And second, for allowing Deirdre to get caught up in his drama. She was too talented a nurse not to use her skills. Matthew set his jaw. As soon as the situation with his in-laws was resolved, Matthew would gently send her back to New York.

Back where she belongs.

“Matthew, can I talk to you about something?” Deirdre leaned forward in her seat, her voice low. “Before Phoebe wakes up?”

He pulled his thoughts back to the present. “Of course.”

“I’ve been thinking about our plan.”

Matthew curbed a smile at her use of the word our and the way her nose scrunched up when she was deep in thought. “Oh?”

“It concerns our living arrangement.” Her gaze dropped to the sleeping Phoebe. “I know you expected me to live at your house. However, I think it would be better if I stayed with Uncle Victor and Aunt Maimie.”

Matthew frowned. “But sometimes I don’t get home until quite late. I wouldn’t want you to have to find your way home at that hour, only to come back early the next day.”

“I’m sure it won’t be a problem. Uncle Victor will send his driver whenever I need him.”

Matthew studied her. “Why don’t you want to stay with us?”

She bent her head to fidget with her gloves. “I think we need to keep everything aboveboard, so the Pentergasts don’t have any added ammunition to use against you.”

Matthew shook his head. “I don’t understand. Many people have live-in nannies. Miss Shearing had no qualms about living across the hall from Phoebe.”

The blush in her cheeks deepened. “I think it’s prudent that we avoid . . . temptation.”

Sudden images of Deirdre dressed in a nightgown, her hair long and loose, rose in his mind to taunt him. Temptation indeed. He swallowed hard. “Very well.”

“Thank you.” She sank back against her seat as though relieved of a great burden. After a few beats of silence, she leaned forward again. “Tell me more about your family. Did you grow up in Toronto?”

“Yes.”

“What about your parents? Where were they from?”

“My father was born here. My mother came over from England as a child.”

“Were both of them only children?”

Matthew frowned, giving her a look that he hoped would quell her questions. His family was not a topic he ever discussed.

“You said you have no relatives other than Phoebe. No aunts, uncles, cousins?”

“No.”

Deirdre’s features softened. “When did your parents die? Was it an accident?”

Matthew ground his teeth together, wishing he could escape her probing gaze. But he supposed she deserved to know. Might as well get it over with. “My mother died when I was eight. My father passed away during the Spanish flu epidemic.”

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t realize. How sad to grow up without a mother. You and Phoebe share that in common.”

His muscles tightened at the stark sympathy on her face.

“How did she die?” Deirdre asked softly.

Pain sliced through his chest. Why did it hurt so much even after twenty years? He released a pent-up breath. Perhaps it was time to talk about it—allow the festering wound to heal. Keeping silent all these years certainly hadn’t worked. “After my brother died, my mother fell into a deep depression—one she never recovered from.” He paused for several seconds, steeling himself to say the words. “On the first anniversary of George’s death, she . . . hung herself. I found her in George’s bedroom . . .” He closed his eyes to push the image from his mind, trying to forget the pain of an eight-year-old wondering why he hadn’t been enough for his mother to want to live.

Sudden warmth encompassed his hand. He opened his eyes to find Deirdre in front of him, tears standing in her eyes.

“I can’t imagine the pain you’ve endured, Matthew. I’m so sorry.”

His throat closed up. He looked away from her, not knowing what else to say, feeling like he’d just ripped out his soul.

She squeezed his hand and resumed her seat, almost as if sensing his inability to continue the conversation. Or perhaps realizing how truly damaged he was.

Thankfully, she remained silent for the rest of the trip, which passed in relative peace. By the time the train arrived at Union Station, he’d managed to regain his emotional equilibrium.

Half an hour later, the taxicab pulled up in front of Matthew’s house. He paid the driver, who then hauled their bags onto the walkway. Matthew stared at the brick building, trying to dredge up some excitement to be home. Instead, nausea churned in his stomach, a sensation he didn’t wholly attribute to the train ride. This house held many unpleasant memories that resurfaced every time he returned.

They no sooner entered than his housekeeper rushed to the door to greet him. “Welcome home, Dr. Clayborne. It’s good to have you back.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Potts.” He removed his hat and gloves and set them on the hall table.

The older woman bent to greet Phoebe. “And look at you, missy. I believe you’ve grown two inches since you’ve been away.”

Phoebe giggled. “Do you know we’re getting a puppy, Mrs. Potts? He’s too little to come home right now, but Papa said we’d go back later and get him.”

Mrs. Potts’s eyes widened.

Matthew chuckled. “I guess you haven’t heard Phoebe talk this much before.”

“I certainly haven’t. It’s a lovely sound indeed.”

Matthew gestured to Deirdre. “Allow me to introduce Miss Deirdre O’Leary, Phoebe’s temporary nanny.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Deirdre said.

Mrs. Potts beamed. “And you as well. If I can do anything for you, please ask.”

Matthew helped Phoebe with her coat. “Some refreshments would be welcome, if you don’t mind,” he said.

“Of course, sir. I’ll get the cook to prepare them right away.” She bobbed a curtsy and disappeared down the hall.

“Papa, where is Miss Deirdre going to stay? In Miss Shearing’s old room?”

Matthew blinked. How was it Phoebe suddenly had more energy than the rising sun, when he seemed completely drained? The fatigue of the journey, coupled with the stress of the whole unfortunate custody situation, threatened to swamp him. He needed to recoup before Victor and his lawyer came by later as scheduled.

Deirdre took Phoebe’s hand. “Phoebe, how would you like to show me your room before we have our snack?”

Phoebe’s ringlets bobbed. “Can I show you my toys?”

“I’d love that. We can introduce Angelina to her new home.” Deirdre winked at Matthew.

Relief coursed through him. Bringing Deirdre into his home would either be the best thing he’d ever done . . .

Or the worst.

Once her vivacious essence permeated this dull abode, he may never be able to face it without her.

“Deirdre, my dear. How lovely to see you again.” Uncle Victor walked into Matthew’s parlor later that day, a wide smile creasing his cheeks.

Deirdre found herself encompassed in a welcoming hug. A wave of pleasure rushed through her. “It’s good to see you, too, Uncle Victor.”

He pulled her back to peer into her face. “Your father called to ask if you might stay with us for a while, and I told him we’d be delighted to have you. But is it true you’ve come here as Phoebe’s nanny?” His tone told Deirdre he thought she’d taken leave of her senses.

“It’s true.” Deirdre smiled. “I did suggest a betrothal, but Matthew turned me down.”

A thud sounded from across the room. Deirdre looked over to see Matthew frowning as he retrieved a book he’d dropped.

She’d hoped a touch of levity would relieve the seriousness of the situation, and both men would relax.

Instead, Matthew’s scowl deepened, and Uncle Victor remained silent.

“Actually,” an unfamiliar voice said from the doorway, “the young lady makes an excellent point.”

Uncle Victor turned. “Oh, William, do come in. I’m sorry I left you in the foyer.”

An attractive blond man around the age of thirty approached, carrying a leather case.

“William, this is Dr. Clayborne and Miss O’Leary. William Bancroft, my lawyer. He’s agreed to advise you and, if necessary, take your case.”

Matthew stepped forward to shake Mr. Bancroft’s hand. “Thank you for meeting us here. I appreciate it.”

Mr. Bancroft bowed to Deirdre, and the men all chose a seat. Matthew closed the parlor doors, likely to make sure that Phoebe, who was helping the cook bake cookies, wouldn’t overhear them. He then took a spot on the settee near Deirdre.

Mr. Bancroft set his briefcase on the floor beside his chair. “All joking aside, Dr. Clayborne, marriage is your best bet at ensuring you win custody. The judge will be looking for evidence of a stable home life for the child, a decent house, a loving family.”

Matthew shifted marginally away. “As I explained to Miss O’Leary, marriage is not an option.”

Uncle Victor leaned forward. “What about a betrothal, Mr. Bancroft?”

Apparently unflustered by the tension in the room, Mr. Bancroft stared calmly at Matthew. “An engagement is the next best option. If a judge sees you plan to bring a suitable woman into the home, one who would create a loving family environment, then yes, it would go a long way toward tipping the scales in your favor.”

Matthew frowned. “Miss O’Leary is here as my daughter’s nanny. She’s a qualified nurse, someone Phoebe adores. Surely this will suffice?”

Mr. Bancroft spared Matthew a pitying glance. “Unfortunately, a paid nanny would never trump a set of doting grandparents. I’m sorry.”

Matthew jerked to his feet and paced the carpet. “But I’ve done everything to guarantee Phoebe’s comfort and safety. Mrs. Potts runs the household. The cook and the maids take care of the rest, and now Miss O’Leary will be looking out for Phoebe’s well-being. What more can a judge expect from a man who has lost his wife?”

Deirdre’s breath caught. Matthew made it seem that he was so bereaved he couldn’t conceive of marrying again. But Deirdre knew better.

“You’re talking logistics, Doctor.” Mr. Bancroft crossed one leg over his knee. “The court will see a man dedicated to his profession, who spends a great deal of time outside the home. They’ll see a young girl left in the company of paid servants. To be blunt, you’d be handing the Pentergasts your daughter gift-wrapped with a bow on top.”

Matthew stopped pacing, his back rigid. The clenched fists and the tick in his jaw bore witness to his immense frustration.

From the moment they’d boarded the train, Deirdre had watched Matthew slip back into the closed-off man she’d first met. One who kept his daughter at home, away from the world. It was as if he’d never been to Irish Meadows, never watched his daughter come out of her shell, play with other children . . .

Her stomach dipped. Drastic measures were needed so Phoebe wouldn’t lose that valuable connection with her father. But what?

“I have one other suggestion.” Mr. Bancroft swung his regard to Matthew. “What about a temporary engagement until the custody issue has been resolved? The Pentergasts’ lawyer may even recommend they drop their suit if he thinks you intend to marry. If not, it will still help with the judge.”

Deirdre’s heart sped up. “We could keep it quiet. You wouldn’t even have to tell Phoebe.”

Matthew threw her a skeptical look and focused on Mr. Bancroft. “Even if I won, what’s to stop the Pentergasts from going back to court when they find out the engagement has been terminated?”

Mr. Bancroft shifted on his seat. “Once a judge makes a ruling, he won’t be inclined to reopen the case.”

Uncle Victor, who had been quietly observing the exchange, slapped a hand to his knee and chuckled. “For once Maimie’s gossip might have come in handy. I do believe she mentioned hearing something about the Pentergasts’ other daughter, the one who married that investor from California.”

Matthew frowned. “What about her?”

“Rumor has it she’s expecting twins. Apparently Helen is planning to go out and help her closer to the due date. So she might not be around to pay much attention to the state of your engagement.”

Trying to bank her excitement, Deirdre rose and went to Matthew by the fireplace. “This could work, Matthew. But it’s up to you.”

He dragged a hand across his jaw, lines of despair bracketing his mouth. At last, he released a long breath. “If this will allow me to keep my daughter, then so be it. I’ll announce the engagement to my in-laws when they come to see Phoebe tomorrow.”

Mr. Bancroft cleared his throat and rose. “Well, I’m glad that’s settled. May I make one other suggestion, Dr. Clayborne?”

“What is that?”

“It would be prudent to procure a ring to make the betrothal look official. And”—he leaned forward—“try to act as if you’re actually happy about the upcoming nuptials.” With an amused chuckle, he clapped Matthew on the shoulder and turned to Deirdre. “Good to meet you, Miss O’Leary. I’m sure we’ll see each other soon.”

Deirdre’s spirits sagged. If Mr. Bancroft had noticed Matthew’s near-abhorrence at being engaged, what would the Pentergasts think?

Uncle Victor joined Mr. Bancroft. “I’ll walk you out, William. Deirdre, I’ll see you later this evening. Just ring when you want Davis to pick you up.”

“Thank you.” Deirdre forced a smile until the three men had left the room.

As soon as she was alone, her shoulders slumped with a release of tension. She crossed to the mantel, where a group of photos caught her attention. One of Matthew graduating from medical school, and another of Matthew in his soldier’s uniform with a beautiful young woman and an infant. A third depicted Phoebe alone, seated on a high-back chair, her face wreathed in sadness. Deirdre ran a finger over the frame and let out a sigh.

Lord, help me to focus only on that sweet girl and ignore anything hurtful Matthew might say or do.

Despite everything, part of her wished the circumstances were different. That by some miracle, Matthew might suddenly declare his affection for her and ask to make the betrothal real. But he’d made it clear that would never happen.

“We need to talk.” Matthew’s deep baritone echoed across the spacious room.

She steeled herself and slowly turned. Judging by his expression, the discussion wouldn’t be pleasant.

He crossed the room to stand before her. “I think we need to outline the terms of our new . . . arrangement.”

A log shifted in the fireplace and the flames jumped, casting a wavering shadow over the area. She waited for him to continue.

Finally he cleared his throat, not quite looking at her. “As you indicated, we will enter into a temporary engagement until the custody issue is resolved. After that, once I hire a new nanny, you will be free to resume your life, and I mine.”

Did he worry she might have designs on him? That she might refuse to release him from the betrothal when the time came? She sighed. “Would you like me to sign an agreement? Or is my word good enough?”

He raised his chin. “I only want to make sure you understand I’m doing this for Phoebe. And for no other reason.”

“Don’t worry. You’ve made your position very clear.” She started to cross the room but stopped. “Mr. Bancroft is right about one thing, however. In order to make this engagement appear real, we will have to act like a couple who want to be married. Do you think you can do that?”

“Of course I can. I used to be quite good at pretending to be happily married.” With that, he turned and strode out of the room.

Oh, Matthew. Her annoyance drained away as understanding dawned. He was terrified to risk being vulnerable again.

She longed to ease his pain. To hold him until he let go of everything keeping him from fully embracing life. But only a higher power could make that happen. It would take God’s healing grace to set Matthew free from a prison of his own making.

The only thing Deirdre could do for him now was pray.