The boy only nodded. Nick released his hand and took a step away from him, imagining his height might intimidate the boy.
“I’ll be up to see you soon and we’ll go to the park later, all right?” his mother whispered, bending over Austen again.
Nick moved off to stand at the edge of the brick terrace, unsure what to say. It wasn’t often he was unsure of himself these days.
How to begin with a woman he had only briefly known so many years ago? A woman who had impressed him to the extent that no other lady had succeeded in displacing her memory?
This elegant lady was no longer the vivacious girl he remembered. Would the two of them have anything to talk about? This Alice Lennox seemed remote, with none of the young Miss Shepard’s impulsiveness or enthusiasm. Yet something in her slim straight shoulders affected him in a way that made him feel as vulnerable as he hadn’t since he’d left his native shores for America so long ago.
Had that young girl’s spirit been irrevocably suppressed? Was there any hope of resurrecting it? What had come to take its place?
He turned around when he heard Austen’s departure. The two watched him for a moment.
With a sigh, Mrs. Lennox motioned to a cushioned wicker settee. “Please, have a seat, Mr. Tennent.”
He took the place beside her as a maid set down the coffee tray. Mrs. Lennox poured dark Turkish coffee from the long-handled copper pot into two tiny porcelain cups. He took the one offered him. “Thank you.” He waited until she had sat back and had taken a sip from her cup before he spoke. “Your boy is quiet.”
She colored and looked away, as if the remark were aimed at herself. “Yes, Austen is rather bashful. He…well, he was only three when he lost his father, and I don’t know how much it has affected his behavior.” She ran her finger along the rim of her cup.
Nick was suddenly transported back to the afternoon he’d first met her in his tiny office. She’d walked along the edge of his desk, running her slim finger along its edge. Little had he realized then how the young girl would turn his life upside down.
He blinked away the sudden image. “I beg your pardon, what did you say?”
“I was saying that Austen was a happy baby, but it seems he has become more timid with each passing year. He’s also a bit frail. Like his father. I worry about him. I know I shouldn’t. I trust in God’s mercy.” She sighed.
“I don’t know too much about children,” he said, seeking of a way to reassure her, “but I imagine a lot of children are naturally shy at his age. How old is he?”
She smiled and he felt he’d said the right thing. “He’s seven.”
He cleared his throat. “How is your father?”
“He passed away last year. I moved back here to be with him four years ago when I was widowed. This was Father’s London home.”
The news stunned him. He’d always thought of Shepard as being in London the day he returned successful. “I’m sorry.”
She sighed. “But I still have my brother. Do you remember him?”
“Yes, I met him a few times.”
“He runs Father’s firm now.”
He nodded, hard pressed to imagine the man he remembered running anything. Perhaps he’d matured.
An awkward silence followed. “You never married again?”
“Oh, no.” She looked as shocked as if he’d asked her if she’d committed a crime.
“Most women do. You’ve been widowed how long?”
“Four years. But I loved my husband.”
He felt a twinge of envy for the man who had inspired that kind of love and loyalty.
“Besides, I have Austen. And my work.”
The wicker creaked as he sat back against the settee, feeling he’d offended her with his blunt remark. “Your work?”
She smiled sheepishly. “Actually, you were the one to inspire me in this direction.”
He paused in the act of sipping his coffee. “Me? How so?”
“You were the first one to ever cause me to question my privileged station in life. You challenged me to look around me at how other people lived.”
His lip curled up at the corner. “I was a rather priggish, unyielding sort back then, as I recall.”
She smiled. “Not at all.” She looked past him, sobering. “Later, when I met my husband, he helped me see even more how we must help our fellow man.”
Nick’s pleasure at having inspired her in any way evaporated as he listened to her wax on about her husband’s role in her life. He’d taken her off to live in a small vicarage and given away anything they had to the needy in their parish. To hear her tell it, Julian Lennox had been a saint among men.
After several moments of listening to an extended eulogy about the poor curate’s selfless life among his parishioners, Nick concluded the man had been a weak individual who had caused Miss Shepard to be cut off from her parents’ wealth.
Mrs. Lennox took a sip of her coffee, her eyes sad. “I think it broke his health eventually, but he wouldn’t have been happy any other way. Since Julian’s passing,” she went on, “I returned to London and with a few other dedicated women have formed a society to help those working families who have no decent place to live. When I was widowed, I realized my own plight. With few resources, I would have been hard-pressed to find a wholesome place for Austen and myself.”
He frowned. “With few resources? But your father?”
She looked down at her half-empty cup in her lap. “My father disinherited me when I married Julian.”
Nick’s frown deepened. “And yet you returned to him?”
“Yes. He was willing to accept his grandson, and I had few options.
“Since my father passed on, my brother, Geoff, allows me the use of this house.” She sat up and smoothed her skirt. “But that’s more about me than I meant to bore you with. What brought you to London after so many years?”
“My mother’s funeral.”
He heard her soft intake of breath and he met her gaze, which was full of sympathy. “I’m so sorry.”
He stared down at the dregs of his coffee and without planning to, found himself saying, “I always meant to come back sooner.” Her own story of nursing her consumptive husband only made him feel the inadequacy of the monetary assistance he’d rendered his mother.
“Was she ill very long?” she asked gently.
“No, not with the last illness.” Why hadn’t he come back sooner, he’d asked himself continually since the day he’d received the cable of her death.
“She had been sick often?”
“Off and on through the years.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Poverty and lack are what ultimately killed her.”
“Again, I’m so sorry.”
He set his cup down on the table. “She worked long and hard over a lifetime until she was worn out. I helped her once I began earning wages, but I always meant to come back earlier. Alas, I was too late.”
“I’m sure she knew your heart.”
Their eyes met and he read genuine sorrow in hers. “Your loss was worse.”
Her eyelashes flickered down. “I miss Julian. It was very difficult at first, but at least I know where he is. He had the assurance of the resurrection and of his Savior’s love. He died peacefully at the vicarage, with those he loved around him.”
They sat quietly some minutes. Nick thought about how blessed the departed man had been with such a woman’s love. He’d known no such love in all his years abroad. Ever, really.
She offered him more coffee and he gave a brief nod.
“I also came to London for business.”
“I see.” She stirred her cup and set the tiny spoon down on the saucer. “Tell me all about America,” she said, sitting up straighter. “Is it as big as one hears? Why did you decide to emigrate? Oh, I know, you probably had heard that fortunes are made over there practically overnight, but it seems so brave to set out by yourself. I want to hear all about it.”
As her questions tumbled forth, Nick rec
ognized the young girl of fifteen years ago. He wasn’t sure if she was just making an effort to distract him from his grief, or if she was genuinely interested, but he decided to indulge her.
He took a sip of coffee. “After I left your father’s firm, I didn’t even wait until I was fully healed but booked passage aboard a steamer bound for New York harbor.” Shaking his head, he continued. “I traveled steerage, a way I would never recommend to anyone.”
“Was it very bad?”
“Overcrowded conditions in the airless hold of a ship, through calm waters and stormy. What was most disagreeable, I think, was the lack of fresh air. The food wasn’t the worst I’ve eaten, and the company comprised all kinds of people, mainly families hoping for a new start, or men going on ahead and hoping to send for their families as soon as they’d saved for their passage.”
She leaned forward, her chin in her hand, fascinated with his description.
“The trip lasted ten days, and whenever the skies were clear, I took my blanket up on the deck and slept under the stars.”
“Oh, I should love to do that! You weren’t afraid of rolling off the side?”
He smiled at her little understanding of a steamship. “I found a nice little sheltered spot under a smokestack. Anyway, it was my first and last experience traveling steerage. I’m happy to say this time around I was able to travel first class.”
“And what did you do once you arrived in New York? Did you know anyone?”
“Not a soul.” He could laugh about it now. Arriving with no money in his pocket and no acquaintances had been a different matter. “I went along with some of the single men I’d traveled with. There was a sort of network of immigrants. These men knew of others who’d gone before them; some had family members. I found a room in a boarding house, full of Irishmen, Scotsmen, Russians, Swedes and Norwegians and soon found work on a construction site.”
Her eyes widened. “A construction site? Not as a secretary?”
“No. I had only my old bank references—” He stopped, realizing too late where that might lead. “Anyway, I didn’t want to start over as a clerk, I’d spent too many years toiling in that department. So, I used my meager muscles this time instead of my brains.”
She looked down. “My father didn’t give you a reference when you left his employ?”
He shrugged. “He found me kissing his daughter, as you may recall. He was in his rights to send me packing with nothing.”
They looked at each other steadily. “It was my fault you were dismissed.”
“No.” The word came swift and sharp. He rubbed a hand across his jaw, looking away from her at last. Did she regret it? “If not for his dismissal, I would never have gone to America and found the opportunities I did there.”
“How did you go from a laborer to the owner of your own firm?”
Again, he smiled. “It didn’t happen overnight. I spent some months at construction work, until deciding to head west. I heard from many that California was the place to be if one wanted to get ahead. I hopped a freight car from New York and was on my way.”
“Oh, what an adventure! I wish Austen could hear you. How long did that trip take?”
“Quite a long while because I didn’t go directly to California. I stopped several times in between, picked up a little work here and there—harvesting fruit in orchards, working as a farmhand for a bit on the great farms in the Middle West, ending up on a ranch in the West for a while.” He smiled ruefully. “I was determined to get over my fear of horses after that fall.”
She laughed. “I’m so glad! I was afraid you’d never want to get on another horse again.”
“I not only did, but learned to ride a Western saddle. Even learned to lasso a steer.”
“A real cowboy.” She shook her head. “Austen would love to hear your stories,” she repeated.
Did this mean she wanted to see him again? “Perhaps I can share them with him.”
But she only nodded and said, “Perhaps.”
Nick continued telling her the highlights of his adventures, playing up the amusing incidents and downplaying the months and years of deprivations and hardships before he’d had his first break.
She sighed as if satisfied with a well-told tale. “So you ended up in San Francisco.”
“Yes, I found work in a dry goods store, unpacking cases, stocking shelves. Soon, I was working as a clerk, keeping track of inventory.” His lips curled upward. “So, after all that time, I ended up doing what I had tried to avoid.”
“What was that?”
“I’d vowed never to go back to clerking.”
“Ah, but this time, it seems it was not in vain.”
“No. It still took a few years, but gradually I worked my way up until I was manager of the store, and when the owner decided to branch out, he put me in charge of another store. Soon, I was overseeing a whole district. I saved every penny until I was able to invest my money. I borrowed some and went into a partnership with another fellow and we bought our own store.
“After a few years, having paid off the debt and making a profit, I began to buy other things—railroad stock, tea from China, government bonds…”
She drew in her breath. “You’ve been to the Far East?”
“I’ve made a few crossings.”
“Goodness. My own life seems very dull in comparison.”
He looked downward. “I’ve learned something about such a life. If one doesn’t have someone to share one’s success with, it is a lonely journey.”
“You never married?”
He shook his head slowly, once again debating how much to tell her. “I had little time when I was working toward success until recently.” He shrugged, his tone taking on a cynical edge. “I quickly discovered that when one has money, it’s very easy to attract a woman’s attention. Unfortunately, one cannot easily trust the authenticity of any avowals of love and fidelity given to a wealthy man.”
He drained the last of his coffee and set the cup down, knowing he should go. “I am grateful for all I have been given. That is one of the reasons I wanted to see you again. Lord Asquith had already been telling me about your charity, and I wanted to look into it. Besides opening a branch of my firm here in London, I’ve returned to England because I wanted to donate something to a worthy cause.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful, Mr. Tennent.” Her face took on an animation he remembered. “Would you like to visit our charity and see something of the work we do?”
He nodded. Any reason for seeing her again would be a good one. “Yes, very much so.” He paused for only a second before saying, “Would tomorrow morning be too soon for you?”
She blinked as if surprised, but then agreed.
They discussed a time then he stood. He’d also learned not to overstay his welcome. “Thank you for the coffee and conversation.”
Nick left the Shepard mansion, deciding to walk back to his hotel. He needed the time to sort through all the impressions he’d received in the last hour in Mrs. Lennox’s company.
The impression that superseded all the others was that the girl he remembered was still there beneath the elegant society lady. Her eyes had sparkled with enthusiasm at his tales of his adventures in America’s West.
As a man of thirty-eight, he found himself as fascinated by this woman as he had been at twenty-three by the girl on the verge of seventeen.
Where would this fascination lead him?
His pace quickened at the anticipation of seeing her as soon as tomorrow. He wasn’t a man to spare any effort once he set his course.
Would Alice Lennox see anything in him worthy of her time and attention after all these years? After knowing the love of a truly worthy man like her late husband?
Chapter Seven
The next morning after spending some time with Austen in the nursery, Alice went to the small office of the Housing Society she oversaw. She was deep in budget matters, when her assistant popped her head in. “There’s a gentleman here to see
you.” She handed Alice a card.
Alice took it from her. Nicholas Tennent. President. Tennent & Co.
The card was on high quality paper and the letters printed with understated elegance. She set down the card, trying to ignore the sudden flutter of nerves. Since issuing her invitation yesterday, she’d been of two minds about this meeting. “Send him in, please.”
Mr. Tennent entered and once again Alice marveled at how distinguished he looked. She couldn’t help a sense of proprietary pride that she had known all along that he’d make his mark in the world. She stood and held out her hand. “I’m so glad you could stop by today. I know you must be very busy.”
His hand enveloped hers and gave it a quick, firm shake. His dark eyes appraised her. She had the sense that he missed very little.
“Please, won’t you have a seat?”
“Actually, I’d be more interested in seeing your facility and looking at some of the projects you’ve undertaken.”
“Of course.” She could see he wasn’t a man to waste time. “Come then, I’ll give you a quick tour and then perhaps we could look at a group of houses we have constructed in Bethnal Green.”
“I look forward to it.” The two exited her office and she led him down the corridor. “When did you first move into these quarters?”
“About two years ago. When I first came back to London, I was a bit at sea. Austen, of course, was very young, and I spent most of my time with him. But he had his nurse, and I found I had too much time on my hands. It…made things worse.” She didn’t like to recall those lonely weeks, feeling so out of place in her parents’ old home. She sighed, brushing away the memories. “I had been very active with my husband in his parish, so little by little, I began informing myself of the situation here in London. This is a much bigger place, so at times the situation of the needy can seem overwhelming. That’s when I decided to focus on one area where I might be able to help.
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