An Honest Heart (20 page)

“Surely you required some form of payment. After all, you must be able to pay your way in life as well.”

Neal’s mouth melted into a smile. “Oh, I have plenty. You see, I discovered after my grandmother’s passing that money had been set aside for me. Other than rent and medical supplies, I rarely find myself in need of anything I cannot get in trade for my services.”

Tingles climbed up Caddy’s arms at the warmth in Neal’s gaze. “Yes, I find that those who give the most tend to be those who have the least to offer, yet they do so with a joy and generosity that’s hard to find in most people of means.”

His smile broadened. “I knew you would understand. My grandmother called them ‘the least of these.’ It came from one of her favorite Scripture verses.”

“It’s from Matthew chapter twenty-five, verse forty. ‘And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’ It was one of my father’s favorites as well.”

Caddy’s heart ventured into treacherous territory. She liked Neal, she enjoyed his company, and she could not deny the close connection she had felt with him since the day she met him. But he was holding something back. Hiding something. He seemed unwilling or unable to be completely honest with her. At twenty years old, she had made the mistake of giving her heart to a young man she could sense was not being completely honest with her. Eight years later, she still regretted it. She would not allow herself to go through that again.

“Mother said you come from Hampshire County. Is that right?”

“I lived there with my grandmother from the time I was twelve.”

She could sense him tightening up, pulling away again, but she pressed on anyway. “From the time you were twelve? And your parents—”

“It was a long time ago, and I prefer not to speak of it.”

Rather than sadness, an edge of anger roughened Neal’s voice. She wanted to know as much about him as he knew about her—who his parents were, what they had done, why he had ended up living with his grandmother. But she could wait. He seemed settled into the neighborhood, as if he planned to stay for quite a while. She had plenty of time to find out everything there was to know about him.

Both horses seemed eager to return to the livery stable at the end of North Parade—a good thing, since she and Neal had been too involved in conversation to pay attention to where they were riding. And in Oxford, one narrow street looked very much like another. When they finally turned onto North Parade Street, Caddy’s knees ached from using them to stay in place on the sidesaddle, and her head pounded in rhythm with the horse’s hooves.

She stifled a yawn behind her hand and was about to thank Neal for escorting her home when she saw two figures loitering on the street in front of her store. Two burly men whom, as she drew closer, she recognized as the two who’d stopped in the shop several days ago.

“Oh, Doctor, I forgot to tell you. Those two men”—she motioned toward them—“came by looking for you the other day. I did not know where you were at the time, so I could not help them, but I did say that I would let you know.” She pulled her gaze away from the strangers when Neal made no response. His expression had turned stony, his shoulders stiff. In fact, his whole body and demeanor had shifted, as if he were prepared for a physical altercation with the two men.

Her instincts had told her the two strangers were not to be trusted, but she had not imagined Neal would have such a visceral reaction to them.

The two men broke off their conversation with each other at the sound of the hoofbeats on the cobblestone street. Rather than menacing, though, she was surprised to see them looking happy when they recognized Neal. He obviously did not return the sentiment. He inclined his head toward them in acknowledgment of their greeting, then rode beside Caddy all the way to the end of the street and the livery stable.

Once they had dismounted and Caddy’s basket and Neal’s medical kit were removed from behind the saddles, the livery apprentice took over leading the horses into their stalls. Walking beside Neal back toward her store, where the two men still stood, Caddy opened her mouth several times to say something, anything. But nothing came to her, so she stayed quiet.

“Good afternoon, Miss Bainbridge.” Both men tipped their hats to her.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Birchip, Mr. Macquarie. May I be of assistance?”

The burly men shook their heads. “No thank you, miss. It is the good doctor here with whom we have business.”

Caddy pressed her lips together to keep herself from asking what their business with Neal Stradbroke was. From his expression and stiff stance, he would not appreciate her curiosity.

Mr. Birchip opened the door for Caddy. She stepped across the threshold, then turned back one last time. “Thank you, Dr. Stradbroke, for seeing me home.”

She wanted to ask what it was these two dangerous-looking men wanted with him, but she held her peace. If he wanted her to know, he would tell her. But she wanted him to want her to know.

He touched the brim of his hat. “Good day, Miss Bainbridge.” He turned and walked toward the apothecary shop, and the two men followed him. Through her recently repaired shop door, Caddy watched him and the two strangers disappear behind the row of buildings housing the apothecary shop and Neal’s apartment.

Setting the almost empty scrap basket under the cutting table for Phyllis to begin refilling, Caddy considered various ways to try to discover who the two men were and what business they had with Neal.

She shook her head. Not Neal. Dr. Stradbroke. She had no right, no permission, to think of him by his Christian name. Yet her heart yearned for the day when she would have that right. But that would not happen until he decided to open his heart and be completely honest with her.

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

E
dith narrowed her eyes at the sight of her cousin Kate entering the room, not in the atrocity of a yellow gown Edith had commissioned for her to wear tonight, but in a concoction of silver and green that made Kate look like a fairyland creature. Edith’s gown of peacock blue and jewel-bright green, trimmed with sparkling gold ribbon and lace, now seemed overstated and garish in comparison.

Unlike the last ball, Kate and her brother were not the guests of honor, so they had not joined the Buchanans in the receiving line as the majority of guests arrived. Which meant the gallery, serving as a ballroom, was already quite full when Kate made her entrance. And what an entrance it was. With the orchestra warming up in their corner in preparation to begin the dancing, Kate promenaded down the length of the room, and everyone turned to watch her progress.

“Good evening, Lord Thynne.”

At her father’s words, Edith turned from her group of friends in time to see Viscount Thynne enter the room. She’d never thought him much of a looker, but in his black evening suit with white waistcoat and cravat, he presented a stunning figure, short and stocky though he was. Edith’s breath caught in her throat. She dropped into a deep curtsy, aware that her gown showed her figure to full advantage.

“Good evening, my lord.” She lifted her eyes to gaze at him before beginning to rise.

He inclined his head first to her father, then to her. “Sir Anthony. Miss Buchanan. Miss Dorcas.”

Edith raised her fan and lowered her chin as she waved it coyly before her face. But Lord Thynne’s eyes slid away from her to scan the crowded ballroom.

She didn’t have to guess what made his expression change from one of boredom to one full of warmth. He excused himself and made his way down the length of the room to the other end where
she
stood. He bowed to Kate, then lifted her hand to kiss the back of it before tucking it under his elbow and leading her around the room to speak to the other guests—who bowed and curtsied to Kate as if she were the Queen of Sheba.

Edith fumed. She should have been the one making a grand entrance. She should be the one people paid obeisance to. And she should be the one the viscount gazed upon with affection the way he looked at Katharine Dearing.

Edith let a tiny bit of her anger manifest in a stamp of her foot, which she camouflaged by turning on her heel, fully prepared to leave the ballroom. Her nose and chin bumped Oliver’s cravat.

“How long have you been standing there?”

Oliver’s hands encircled her bare upper arms to steady her as she stumbled back. “Long enough to know that you were about to create a scene needlessly. Have you forgotten that it is you, and not your cousin, who is to lead off the ball tonight? That you are the hostess and everyone will be looking to you as a leader in fashion and manners of Oxfordshire society? Your cousin may have caught their attention for a moment, but you are the one who has, and will continue to have, lasting influence on the people gathered here.”

Oliver’s words swirled around Edith and washed away much of her jealousy toward her cousin. Not all of it, but enough.

Oliver let his hand slide down her left arm, then he raised her hand and kissed her knuckles. She could feel the heat from his breath through the silk of her glove, and a thrill of excitement raced up her arm and made her light-headed. She hated that he could make her feel this way. Hated that a few flattering words and a simple touch could distract her so easily. She wanted to be jealous; she wanted to ignore the heat running through her and savor her bitterness. Her envy sparked her creativity into devising ways she could separate her cousin and the viscount and try to win Lord Stephen for herself.

Instead, she found herself taking Oliver’s proffered arm and allowing him to take her out into the middle of the room to lead off the dancing.

Watching Kate and Lord Thynne stroll back up the length of the room, Edith eyed Kate’s gown critically. Looking beyond the fabric, she realized Kate’s dress had a much plainer style than her own. The skirt, though possibly as full and gathered as Edith’s, was not held out to its full advantage by petticoats and crinolines the way Edith’s was. And as she had already noted on numerous occasions, Kate’s waist would never be as tiny as her own. Her cousin’s hair was an indecisive burnished brown, nothing like Edith’s spectacular mane of shiny black tresses, which set her pale skin and blue eyes off to perfection in a way Kate could never hope for.

By the time she’d finished dancing the first set with Oliver, Edith’s plan of action was completely formed. She would take a leaf from her cousin’s book when it came to gaining Lord Thynne’s attention. She would simply ignore him. She would stop trying to flirt with him, stop trying to draw his attention away from Kate. If she had a good time and laughed and flirted with the other men, he would grow tired of the mouse at his side and see what a good time could be had with Edith. And by doing so, she might just punish Oliver for the way he had been treating her recently too.

Edith laughed and danced and flirted and tried to pretend she had completely forgotten that Kate and Lord Thynne were in the same room with her. And it worked just fine . . . until she saw the two of them walk over to her father.

Sir Anthony looked as if he were about to melt with excitement from whatever Lord Thynne said to him. It appeared he was about to call for silence, until Kate laid a hand on his arm and said something else to him. Father’s face crumpled like that of a toddler whose favorite toy had been swiped away by an older sibling.

Acrid jealousy climbed up into the back of Edith’s throat. She need not hear the words to know what had been said. Lord Thynne had proposed, and Cousin Katharine had accepted. But for some reason, Kate did not want it announced immediately. For that, at least, Edith was grateful. Until the engagement was officially announced, she still had a chance. A slim chance, but a chance nonetheless.

“Do you think your father will hold a ball in their honor once we are in London?” Oliver’s breath once again sent a shiver down her spine, but this time it was not one of pleasure.

Edith wanted to lash out at him, but she could not afford to alienate Oliver at this point. Right now he seemed to be her only ally.

“If my cousin wishes to marry a viscount, how could my father do anything but show Lord Thynne the highest courtesy?”

“And yet . . .” Oliver arched his right brow in a sardonic expression that made Edith’s stomach burn.

“And yet?”

“I think you still intend to see if you can win the viscount for yourself. Am I wrong?”

She considered contradicting him, but that would be a flat-out lie. “Why should I not? Do not I, the daughter of a baronet, deserve to marry a titled man more than my penniless cousin?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Aside from the affront to Oliver’s status as merely the
heir
to a title, she had not wanted to let him know that her American cousins were here because their father had lost all his wealth and needed them to marry English money. Nor did she want anyone to know that Lord Thynne had chosen a woman of no means and no pedigree over the daughter of a baronet with a fifty-thousand-pound dowry.

She hooked her arm through his. “At least I am pursuing someone of higher social standing than myself, unlike you, chasing after my seamstress.”

His arm stiffened under hers, and the last vestiges of mockery left his face. She tapped his wrist with her fan and laughed at him. “Remember, we agreed we would not interfere with each other’s pursuits so long as neither of us does anything to shame the other.”

He caught her free hand and twirled her around into the mazurka just starting. “And do you call your following me to Miss Bainbridge’s shop noninterference?”

“I call it protecting my reputation. I have recommended Miss Bainbridge’s services to many among my acquaintances. If it became known that she is a woman of loose morals, that would reflect badly on me. So I must insist that you stop visiting her shop, that you no longer have anything to do with her.”

Oliver inclined his head, which Edith took to indicate a grudging acquiescence of her request.