by Galen, Shana
Caleb sighed and put another penny on the table.
“Lady Julia. That’s right. She was the daughter of a duke or an earl or one of them nobs. I assumed she either went back to her ballroom or moved the orphanage somewhere a bit to the west.”
Caleb stood, and Bridget followed. “Thank you.”
Merceron looked up at Caleb. “Sure I don’t know you?”
“I’m sure.” He hurried Bridget through the tavern, and when they stepped outside, he muttered, “I shouldn’t have come with you. He knows who I am.”
Six
Caleb knew the moment Merceron said he looked familiar that he’d made a mistake. He didn’t regret going with Bridget. He couldn’t have sent her into the tavern alone, and he’d known it was a risk to go along. But now he could feel the shadow of danger closing in.
Bridget, on the other hand, was blissfully unaware of the peril awaiting them. She was walking quickly and chattering about the new information they’d gained. He did not wish to ruin her excitement, but he thought the sooner he separated from her, the better.
“Should we find a bookstore and purchase a directory? Surely there can’t be too many orphanages with sunny in the name.”
“I don’t know that a directory of businesses or tourist sites would list orphanages at all.”
Her shoulders fell. “You’re correct, of course.” She looked up at the sky, which was cloudy, but at least no rain fell. “I suppose we can start in Mayfair and ask people we meet if they know it.”
He steered her toward a shop window, the blinds pulled down indicating it was closed on Sunday. “We might find it even more quickly if we go to the charity hospital. The nurses will know all the foundling houses.”
She nodded. “Yes. I didn’t think of that. Let’s go now.” She started away, but he grasped her arm lightly, holding her back. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t go with you. In fact, it’s time we say goodbye.”
The excitement and pleasure on her face fled. “I don’t understand. We’re so close.”
“You are. I have no doubt you’ll find James today, but not if I’m with you. I’ll only cause you trouble.”
She shook her head. “No, you won’t. I understand if you don’t want James to know who you are, but there’s no reason you can’t meet him.”
He bent close to her. “I was recognized, Bridget. Merceron knew my face. He might not have put my face with my name and the reward offered for me, but he will. And when that happens, he’ll send men after me. I have to leave Mrs. Jacobs’s, choose a new name, and find another place to hide. London is full of boarding houses and taverns with rooms to let. It won’t be difficult.”
“And that’s to be your life? Always running? Always hiding?”
He straightened. “If I want to live, yes. I had thought—” He shook his head. “You should go on without me.”
“Finish what you were saying.”
“It’s nothing that concerns you. I’d thought of leaving, sailing for the Americas or Canada. I’d be safe there.”
She stepped back, knocking into the window. “That’s so far away.”
“I should have gone already, but there was something keeping me here.” He looked into his eyes. “Someone. Now that I know you are safe and well and will be provided for, I can go. I’ll leave blunt under your pillow before I go, enough to see that you and James are cared for.” He took her hand and kissed it. “I’ve never loved anyone else, Bridget. I don’t think I ever will.”
It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, to walk away. He heard her harsh intake of breath and the sob as she released it, but he didn’t look back. If he truly cared for her, walking away from her was the right thing to do. And he’d be damned if he would put her and his child in danger.
He turned a corner and stumbled. Every fiber of his being wanted to go back to her, but he forced himself forward, returning to Mrs. Jacobs’s. He’d gather his things, leave Bridget the blunt, and be on his way. Perhaps it was best if he left England altogether. If he was in the same city, he didn’t trust himself not to attempt to sneak a look at Bridget or James. It would be better if an ocean separated them, safer for all of them.
TWO HOURS LATER, BRIDGET trudged up the stairs of Mrs. Jacobs’s boarding house. She was tired and hot and discouraged. By the time she reached the second floor, she was also lightheaded. She hadn’t eaten since the pilfered slice of bread after church, and that had been hours ago.
She unlocked her door, stepped into her dark room, and leaned back against the door. The rain from the day before had left the city muggy and humid, and this upper chamber was as stuffy as she’d known it would be. She started for the window, then paused and glanced at her bed. Had Caleb left the money under her pillow? She turned back, then screamed when she saw the man standing on the other side of the room.
Caleb stood, hands outstretched. “It’s only me, Bridget.”
She clamped a hand over her mouth and stared at him. “I thought you were gone,” she whispered.
“I tried to leave, but they’d already found me.”
“Who? How?”
A sharp tap at the door startled her into silence. “Mrs. Lavery? Are you well?” Mrs. Jacobs asked.
She winced, then motioned for Caleb to get behind the door. “I’m fine, Mrs. Jacobs,” Bridget called. But she knew that wouldn’t satisfy the lady, so she went to the door and opened it a crack. “I’m so sorry. I thought I saw a rat.”
Mrs. Jacobs stabbed her hands on her hips. “All that racket because you saw a rat! I thought you’d been set on by murderers. First, those men looking for Mr. Smith, now this.” She started away, but Bridget slid out the door and went after her.
“What men looking for Mr. Smith?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but three men came here looking for him. They said they were from the magistrate and he’d stolen something. Asked to search his room, but when they went in, lo and behold, he had already cleared out. Thieves and whores have taken over the city, I tell you.”
“Where are these men now?”
“How should I know?” Her eyes narrowed. “What’s it to you?”
“I just wondered how you could be certain they came from the magistrate. Was the magistrate with them?”
“How I could be certain? How I could be—do you think men just go about impersonating city officials? Why, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
Bridget nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Course I’m right.” She pointed a finger at Bridget. “No more screams out of you.”
“No, madam. Again, I’m sorry.” She went back to her room, closing the door quietly and locking it. Caleb stood against the wall, arms crossed.
“I was in here when they arrived.” He gestured to a valise near her table. “I thought I’d better wait to leave until it was safe.”
“When will that be?”
“After dark. I doubt they left anyone to watch the place, since it was clear I’d already taken my belongings and gone, but I don’t want to risk being seen.”
“Should I go out and look around?”
He crossed to her and put his hands on her arms. “No. Stay inside. I’ve been sitting here the past hour worrying about you. Where is James?”
She closed her eyes, and he led her to the bed, sitting beside her. “I didn’t find him. I went to the hospital, but no one was there to see me today. It’s Sunday, and only a few nurses were working, and they had more work than they could handle. I was told to come back tomorrow.”
“Then you go back tomorrow.”
“I have to teach tomorrow and won’t be able to go back until evening.”
He stroked her hair. “I know it’s difficult to wait.”
She nodded. “I just want to see him, hold him, know he’s all right. I know one more day is nothing after all these years, but it feels like forever.” She swiped at her eyes. “And now I’m crying. I don’t know what’s wrong with
me.”
“You’re tired, and you haven’t eaten. I have bread and apples in my valise.”
He rose and fetched them, tossing them in the center of her small bed. “You need these for your travels,” she said.
“I’ll buy more. Eat.”
She lifted an apple and bit in while he dug under her pillow and produced a handful of paper notes. “For you and James.” He pressed them into her hand.
Bridget gaped at them. “Five pounds? I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”
“Then accept it for James.”
She nodded and secreted the notes in a drawer. “I have something for you as well,” she said, returning to the bed. She reached underneath and pulled out the box. “I would have shown you these before, but I didn’t realize you’d have to leave so soon.”
She opened the cover and drew out the sketch of James when he’d been an infant. “I drew these of our son.” She handed him the first one and watched his face as he studied it. His expression turned from wonder to joy to pride.
“He’s beautiful. Like his mother.”
“More like his father.” She handed him the second drawing. “He has your eyes.”
Caleb touched a finger to the drawing. “He does.” He looked up at her. “He really does.”
“I don’t think I got the color quite right.” She placed a hand on his temple. “But then, I don’t think anyone could. Did you mean it?” she asked.
His brow furrowed.
“When you said you’d never loved anyone else. Did you mean that you loved me?”
“I still love you.”
She swallowed her uncertainty. “Then don’t go. I want us to be a family.”
“Bridget, you know that’s not possible. The only way to keep you safe is to leave you. I’ve already put you in danger.”
“There’s no reason for anyone to come after me.”
“And I don’t want to give them one.” He looked down at the box. “Do you have any more drawings?”
“Just one.” She lifted the last, the drawing that showed James crying as he was taken away from her. Caleb took it and let out a slow breath.
“Bridget, I’m so sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was. I swear to you, this will never happen again. I’ll make sure you always have funds.”
“I’ll be fine. I have my position at the academy and students waiting for art lessons. James and I will be fine. I don’t need your money.” She took the drawing from his hand and placed it with the others back in the box. “I just need you.”
Still on her knees, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. If she was not to see him again, then she wanted one last night to remember him by. He kissed her back, tentatively at first and then with more passion. She pulled his coat off and unfastened his neckcloth, making it clear she wanted more than his hand on her tonight. She wanted all of him.
“Are you certain?” he asked when she reached for the placket of his breeches.
“Absolutely certain.” She loosed the breeches and took him in her hand. He was warm and hard, the weight of him familiar. She stroked him, then pushed him back on the bed and lifted her skirts to climb on top of him. He grasped her waist, staying her.
“If we’re to do this, I want to do it right.”
She raised her brows. “I thought I was doing it right.”
“I want you naked. I want to see you.”
“Then undress me.”
He lifted her off him and stripped his own clothes off first. Bridget’s throat went dry at the sight of him—his long, muscled legs; his broad shoulders; his corded arms.
He started with her hair, plucking pins from the simple upsweep until it all tumbled about her shoulders. Then he unfastened the bodice of the dress, slid the skirts and petticoats off, and gave her a long look as she stood in only her chemise and stays.
“Are you tired already?” she asked.
“Just trying to decide what to take off next. I could remove your garters and stockings, but perhaps I should leave those for last and divest you of your stays and shift first.”
She stepped out of her shoes, pushed them aside, and put her arms around his waist. His hard member pushed against her belly, and he inhaled sharply when her hands squeezed his buttocks. “Or you could just take me now and worry about the clothing later.”
“Tempting as that sounds, I want to see all of you. Stays first, I think.” He pushed her gently back and unlaced her stays, then tugged at the hem of her chemise. Pulling it over her head, he dropped it on the floor. She felt suddenly self-conscious, standing there in nothing but her stockings and garters, but as soon as she looked at him, all traces of embarrassment fled. There was nothing but desire and heat in the way he looked at her. His gaze was almost reverent.
“Let’s get those stockings off,” he said, voice husky. He took her hand and led her to the bed. She sat, and he spread her legs, kneeling between them. He took one foot, lifted it, and slid his other hand up her calf to just above her knee where her black garters secured her white stocking. He lowered the garters, then rolled the stocking down very slowly. Bridget trembled, then struggled to catch her breath as he set her bare foot on his shoulder and turned to her other leg. He didn’t lift that one, though. Instead, he bent and kissed the bare flesh above her knee. His lips slid upward, and she was all but panting.
His mouth moved farther up her thigh, and she leaned back, catching herself on her elbows. He spread her legs farther and pressed his mouth where her legs joined her torso. Her hands clenched on the rough blanket as his lips slid over and his tongue lapped at the delicate flesh. When he found the bud that gave her pleasure, she shook so badly, she lay flat, giving herself up to his ministrations.
She’d forgotten this. She’d forgotten how well he pleasured her with his mouth. He could draw it out for hours, making her climax over and over, until she thought she had nothing left. His tongue was gentle, teasing and testing. He spread her legs wider and circled her, pulling back when she came too close to peaking.
“Please,” she begged in a whisper, because she feared if she spoke any louder, she might scream. “I want you inside me.”
“Patience,” he murmured, beginning his teasing again. Her breathing grew rapid until she was gasping and clawing at the blanket. Finally, finally, he pressed his tongue deliberately against her sensitive bud, and she came apart. Just as she began to descend, he drove into her, and she soared higher again. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. Caleb wasn’t gentle, and she didn’t want him to be. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper. Finally, he tensed and cried out, withdrawing quickly and spilling himself on her belly.
He fell beside her, chest rising and falling. When he’d recovered, he found a cloth, cleaned her, then lay beside her again and pulled her close. “I’ve missed you.” He buried his face in her hair and stroked her shoulder.
“I’ve missed you.” She turned to look at him. For all these years, she’d held her memories of him locked away in the back of her mind. She hadn’t wanted to take them out and examine them, because he’d left her. But now she knew he hadn’t left her out of choice but duty. And the time she’d spent with him these past days, along with the past they’d shared, swirled together. “I don’t want you to go.” She placed a hand on his cheek. “I love you.”
He stilled. “I didn’t think you’d say it again. I didn’t know if you’d trust me.”
“I trust you. I know you only want to protect me and James. If we can’t be together in London, what if we traveled with you to somewhere safe?”
Caleb shook his head. “Long sea voyages can be dangerous. There are storms and mercenaries.”
She kissed him. “The streets of London can be dangerous as well. Together we will keep each other safe.”
He lay back and stared at the ceiling for so long she thought he would deny her. Then finally, he rose on one elbow. “I should tell you no.”
“Bu
t you won’t.”
“I won’t. But we must find James tomorrow. We need to leave on the first ship where I can book passage.”
Seven
He’d left her well after midnight. It had been no easy feat to force himself away from the warmth of her body and the sweet perfume of her skin. But if anyone was watching the boarding house, he had to leave under cover of darkness or risk being caught.
Caleb had gone out the back door, through the kitchen, and into a back alley. From there, he’d made his way to the docks, avoiding the main thoroughfares and keeping to the side streets as much as possible.
He’d found a ship bound for Canada via Ireland. The captain had no cabins left, but he offered Caleb first choice of vacated cabins once they reached the isle. Caleb paid the fare for three and hoped Bridget thought sleeping under the stars for a night or two romantic.
It was easy to hide in the taverns and warehouses that lined the docks. No one looked too closely at a man here, and most men kept their hats down low and their eyes on their own business.
At two o’clock, he started back into the city toward the charity hospital. Bridget had said she’d ask another teacher to take her afternoon classes so she could go to the hospital. He’d meet her outside, and they’d go to the orphanage together.
He walked quickly, keeping an eye over his shoulder. When he arrived at the hospital, he waited across the street from it, tucking himself behind the pillar of a building. He’d been waiting about a quarter of an hour when Bridget entered. She wore her cream and peach dress and a hat to match. Her hair was in curls over one shoulder, and she looked as pretty as he’d ever seen her.
He ducked back behind the pillar, allowing himself a few moments to imagine their life together. He’d marry her as soon as possible. Perhaps they could get a license when the ship docked in Ireland. He wanted to be her husband. He was already a father. He still couldn’t believe he was the father of the beautiful child she’d shown him in the drawings last night. Had she just imagined the resemblance the boy bore to Caleb, or did he really look like his father?
