Torn in Toronto

by Wendy May Andrews

  “Caitlyn? Who’s Caitlyn?”

  Connor had the fleeting thought that he wanted to do violence to the other man.

  “Do you mean Miss Caitlyn Doherty? Why would you think that?”

  “My assistant saw you together.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “We had reason to think you were after information about the contracts we were considering.”

  Westridge laughed. “I certainly was, but I don’t know why you thought I would be seeking that information from Miss Doherty.”

  Connor shook his head. Caitlyn had been right. The Englishman hadn’t even considered that she might know anything of value. Connor’s heart clenched on her behalf, knowing how hurt she must be with the entire situation. But then his brain caught up with what Westridge had said.

  “If not Caitlyn, then how were you seeking the information?”

  Westridge shrugged. “You have some very chatty clerks. Especially once they’ve been plied with ale.”

  Connor felt anger sweep through him once more, but he knew it would be misdirected if aimed at the Englishman. Connor couldn’t really blame him for trying to succeed in business. Especially when it seemed that the other man was trying to gain his father’s approval. Connor could relate to the sentiment.

  He touched the brim of his hat in a salute to the other man. “Don’t get carried off by the bears in Winnipeg,” he said with a cheerful smile by way of farewell.

  Westridge laughed, not offended in the least. “Take care, Dalton,” he answered with a wave as he walked away.

  Connor watched him go. He was relieved the question of Caitlyn’s loyalty was resolved definitively and that the Englishman was leaving town, but he was disappointed to realize he would need to guard his tongue more within the office. And he couldn’t even think about how he had betrayed Caitlyn. He ought to force himself to resume thinking of her as Miss Doherty. Or better yet, convince his mind not to think of her at all.

  Chapter Seven

  Connor stared at the empty seat in his telephone room, missing Caitlyn’s cheerful voice and calm manner. He had been a fool for letting her leave. He should have insisted that she needn’t sacrifice herself. Now, with Westridge leaving town, Connor was more convinced than ever that there was no truth to the thought that Caitlyn was involved in any sort of deceit. He had known that; it had been foolish to even entertain the idea. Caitlyn wasn’t capable of being underhanded.

  He missed her inquisitive, intelligent gaze and the opinions she had tried so hard to hide. He should have taken the time to explain more of his business to her. He would have enjoyed hearing her thoughts. He thought back to the conversation that had ensued over the one thing he had explained to her. Their telephone system.

  “Do you know how a telegraph works?”

  Her wrinkled nose had been cute enough to distract him, but he had dragged his attention back to the matter at hand as she shook her head.

  “I know the results of the telegraph, but I’m a little ashamed to admit that I never inquired into how it actually works.”

  “No need for shame. Do you want me to explain it to you?”

  Her eager gaze was intelligent and filled with curiosity. She looked at him as though he were the wisest person she could imagine. Connor enjoyed that devoted attention. He remembered the sensation as his chest puffed up. He should have paid closer attention to how she made him feel instead of dismissing her. He had enjoyed her quick understanding. No other woman he’d ever spent time with had been quite so eager to learn.

  “Do you know what Morse code is?” he had asked.

  Again, her nose wrinkled adorably.

  “You mean the secret language you and Dylan had to keep secrets from me when we were children?”

  He’d laughed. “The very one.”

  “I hadn’t realized it had a name. Where did you come up with such a name for it?”

  Connor had laughed. “We didn’t name it. It’s named for its inventor, Samuel Morse.” Her flushed cheeks had indicated her embarrassment over not knowing. He quickly continued, “He came up with a way of transmitting the alphabet in a series of dots and dashes. That’s the Morse code.”

  “All right.” Her frown of concentration showed she was paying attention and trying to understand.

  “At first, the code was transmitted by electrical current, merely making marks on a paper that then had to be interpreted. They then started using radio communication to transmit the code. Eventually, Morse code messages could be sent all over the world over a system of cables.”

  “But how did that become the telephone?”

  “They were able to make the same wires carry the sound waves of speech rather than just the dots and dashes of the code.”

  She blinked and frowned and nodded, then laughed. “I sort of understand, but I think you might have to explain electricity to me a little bit first.”

  He had laughed along with her until she asked her next question. “Do you think you could take it apart and show me all the pieces?” She had grinned brightly as she asked. “Then I would probably really understand it, if I could see how the parts go together.”

  “You are not to touch the inner workings of that thing, Caitlyn. Promise me.”

  “Of course, I wouldn’t do such a thing without your permission. I would never want to damage it. I quite like it, you must realize.”

  Connor had laughed at her way of expressing it but had returned to his serious mien. “Swear to me, Caitlyn. Electricity can be deadly dangerous. I don’t want you experimenting.”

  “I already promised, Connor,” she had said rather sulkily, making him laugh.

  “I know, I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “I promise I won’t touch the inner workings without you. But will you explain electricity to me sometime?”

  He loved her bright interest and would have actually sat down in that moment to explain it to her if not for the very instrument under discussion starting to pulse with an incoming message.

  “I surely will, later.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Dalton,” she had answered primly while laughter danced in her eyes as she composed herself to reply to the caller.

  Connor came back to the present with a start, wishing he could have stayed in that moment. He never had explained electricity to her, choosing to avoid close association with her in an attempt to keep his heart out of the matter. Clearly, he hadn’t succeeded.

  Tearing his eyes away from the telephone, Connor focused his gaze out the window. The bustle of the port didn’t soothe him as it usually did. Which was ridiculous. It had already been two weeks since Caitlyn had left. He ought to have hired someone else by now, but he just couldn’t bring himself to admit that she was gone.

  He didn’t want to have feelings for her. He didn’t want to have feelings at all. Connor wondered if he would ever feel secure enough after the unstable childhood he’d had, but he needed to feel like he could provide for any future children. He never wanted a child of his to feel the way he had as a boy. If not for Dylan, Connor wasn’t certain if he would have even survived his childhood.

  Now he was wealthy beyond even his wildest childhood dreams, but he didn’t know if it would ever feel like enough. And he didn’t know how to make it secure. He had already purchased a farm outside the city and hired a manager to maintain it. The thought of ever going hungry again gave him nightmares. He ought to wait until that passed before he considered courting any young woman.

  With a frustrated sigh, Connor ran his hand through his hair, trying to quell his disquieting thoughts. He turned his back on the telephone table and returned to his own office. Perhaps if he found another contract to pursue, he could feel better about things.

  ~~~

  Caitlyn was in her father’s study working on another one of her lists. It was absorbing work and she was feeling a level of contentment she hadn’t experienced in ages. The only inhibition to being truly joyful was the fact that
she missed Connor, but she reminded herself for the hundredth time, one couldn’t have everything in life. She loved lists and she loved feeling useful. It was enough. It had to be enough. Her concentration was broken by the sound of a knock at the door. She wondered fleetingly who it might be but knew the housemaid would deal with it.

  A moment later Helen was at the door of the study.

  “Miss Caitlyn, Mr. Westridge is here to see you and your mother.”

  She tried to ignore the sinking sensation those words brought. Her mother would be thrilled.

  “Does my mother know?”

  “Yes, Miss, she’s with the gentleman now.”

  After getting to her feet, Caitlyn glanced in the mirror, objectively checking her appearance. Everything seemed to be in order, she thought until she noticed that she had an ink stain on her finger. Caitlyn debated which would annoy her mother more, keeping her waiting or being less than fully put together.

  Rubbing at the stain, Caitlyn hurried toward the salon. Perhaps she could hide her hand in the folds of her skirt. She reminded herself that the son of an earl might just bow to them and not expect a handshake. Her mother need never know about the ink and she needn’t be late.

  “Good afternoon,” she greeted as she entered the room, surprised to see the distress evident in her mother’s face. Caitlyn searched her mind for anything she might have done to put it there and came up blank.

  “I’m sorry to have interrupted your afternoon, Mrs. and Miss Doherty. Thank you for taking a few moments to meet with me. I didn’t feel it would be right of me to leave town without taking your leave since you have shown me such pleasant hospitality.”

  Now Caitlyn understood and had to suppress her glee.

  “Are you returning to England?”

  “I’m not quite finished with Canada, Miss Doherty. I am going to try my hand at the industry in Winnipeg.”

  Mrs. Doherty made a muffled sound of distress and sank onto the nearest chair. Caitlyn quickly covered her mother’s reaction by gesturing Mr. Westridge into a seat as she chose one for herself.

  “That sounds delightfully adventurous. Have you ever been to Winnipeg?”

  “No, but I’ve heard it’s bursting with opportunities.”

  “I’m sure that is true, now that the train runs all the way from Coast to Coast and right through Winnipeg. It isn’t even that long to travel there, is it?”

  “Less than a week.”

  “How remarkable,” Caitlyn marveled before recalling herself to her manners. “It was kind of you to think of us. You must be very busy with making your arrangements.”

  He inclined his head as though agreeing with her that he was doing them a favor to show them this attention. Caitlyn had to bite her lip to suppress her amusement. It wouldn’t do to laugh under the circumstances.

  “Be sure to visit us whenever you’re passing through Toronto in the future. It has been our family’s pleasure to make your acquaintance. We’d be delighted to hear how you get on in Winnipeg.”

  Caitlyn hoped she sounded sincere. And she actually mostly was. It wasn’t Rafe Westridge’s fault that Connor couldn’t trust her. It also wasn’t Mr. Westridge’s fault that Mrs. Doherty so wanted him as a suitor for her daughter. If the gentleman was leaving town, Caitlyn would happily wish him well. He regained his feet.

  “As you said, there is plenty to do before I go, so I ought to be going.”

  Mrs. Doherty recovered herself enough to protest. “Surely, you could stay for some tea.”

  Their visitor’s lips twitched causing Caitlyn to wonder with annoyance if he were amused by her mother. Caitlyn might find her mother’s ways annoying or amusing, but she didn’t appreciate anyone else doing so. He bowed to Mrs. Doherty.

  “I appreciate your continued hospitality, Mrs. Doherty, but I really must be going. I promise that I will accept a cup the next time I am in Toronto.”

  Caitlyn could see by her mother’s weak smile that she wasn’t completely mollified, but there was nothing any of them could do except follow their guest to the door. Mrs. Doherty offered her hand to the gentleman. Caitlyn could see that her mother thrilled slightly as the Englishman lifted her hand to his lips. Horror filled her as she thought he might want to do the same to her. When he looked at her, Caitlyn kept her hands clasped in her skirts and bowed her head, dipping into a slight version of a curtsey. She correctly surmised that he would accept the formality without question, as would her mother. Without further fanfare, he was gone.

  There was a moment of silence before Mrs. Doherty turned to her daughter.

  “You should have tried harder to retain his interest in you, Caitlyn.”

  Caitlyn recognized the disappointment in her mother’s voice, so she made an effort not to take offence.

  “Would you have wanted to see me move to Winnipeg?”

  Mrs. Doherty scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, my dear. Surely if he had you, he wouldn’t need to leave the city.”

  Caitlyn didn’t know how to respond. It was a moot point, anyway. Westridge hadn’t made any further attempt to visit with her in the weeks since Mr. Curtis had seen them. And now he was leaving town. She could be gracious in her victory.

  “There will be someone else, Mother.” She took a breath and tried to turn the subject. “Do you suppose we’ll have any news of Dylan this week?”

  “Oh, I do hope so.”

  With that, her mother was off on a conversational ramble of speculation about her dearest firstborn and all that she could surmise from the last letter they had received. Caitlyn listened as attentively as she could until she could reasonably excuse herself and return to her interrupted task.

  Chapter Eight

  Connor stood on the sidewalk in front of Miss Doherty’s house. It had been three weeks since Caitlyn had left his employ. One week since he had accepted his feelings for her. And now he had been standing here for at least five minutes. It felt like an hour but couldn’t have been much more than a few minutes. He couldn’t seem to get himself to go the rest of the way. It was only a few more steps, but he thought his heart was going to pound out of his chest with the anxiety filling him.

  What if she couldn’t forgive him?

  That was the crux of the matter.

  He had been beastly toward her. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness. And yet, he would beg for it if he had to. With a firm nod following that precise thought, Connor strode up the front walk and rapped on the door. It was immediately opened by a smiling maid. Connor felt his cheeks heat. Clearly, they had seen him dithering.

  Ignoring his discomfort, as well as his intense desire to turn on his heel and retreat, Connor nodded at the maid.

  “Might I please inquire if Miss Doherty has a moment to speak with me?” He could hear how pompous he sounded but couldn’t seem to stop it. It was his subconscious’ misguided attempt to make up for his humiliation, he was sure.

  But the maid seemed to appreciate his pomposity, merely bobbing a curtsy without any other visible reaction. “I’ll just check, sir. If you wouldn’t mind waiting.”

  Connor was surprised to find himself still on the porch. He didn’t think that was something the Dohertys would consider socially acceptable. It was probably a message he should receive. He was not considered an acceptable guest.

  “Mr. Dalton, I’m so sorry. The household is in a bit of an uproar. Helen didn’t mean to leave you cooling your heels on the porch. Please, come in.”

  Connor was surprised by Caitlyn’s warm reception. He had actually been expecting to be refused. He should have known the sweet, kindhearted young woman would never do something so ill-bred.

  “I was actually hoping we could take a stroll.”

  The expression on her face was almost indescribable. She looked like a mixture between incredulous, happy, and disgruntled.

  “What if Mr. Curtis happens by?”

  She didn’t sound sarcastic, but Connor felt his face heating all the way to his ears. He forced a shrug even though he
didn’t feel particularly nonchalant. He was surprised when she broke into a grin and even giggled.

  “Sorry, Connor, I was just teasing you.” She paused for a moment while glancing behind her. “Let me just tell my mother where I’ll be, and then I’ll be happy to go for a walk. It’s a beautiful day and I’ve been indoors for all of it, so I’d actually be delighted to get out for a stroll.”

  Connor was left blinking after her. This was not in the least the reception he had been expecting.

  Within minutes she was back with a frivolous hat perched on her head and a light coat wrapped around her. She looked prettier than ever. He supposed it was the air of joy that surrounded her. The buzzing in his ears almost drowned out her words as she chattered by his side.

  “Did you accept the invitation to the fundraiser?”

  “I’m sorry, which fundraiser?”

  “For the East-side Orphanage. I don’t think we received your reply.”

  Connor had to concentrate to bring his attention to the matter at hand. He had longed for some time spent with her. He couldn’t squander it by not paying attention. With a subtle shake of his head, he brought his gaze to her upturned, flushed face.

  “How are you involved? I don’t recall seeing your name on any of the correspondence.”

  “No, I’m not one of the faces of the charity.”

  Her wide, satisfied smile was confusing his brain.

  “So, then how do you know I haven’t replied?”

  Caitlyn’s delicate shrug was the only indication of her discomfort. “I’m helping out in the background. The ladies running the charity are sweet, kind, and very well intentioned, but they aren’t terribly efficient.”

  “After a few weeks in a business setting, you’re sufficiently efficient to know who has responded to the event?”

  Caitlyn’s laugh made his heart clench. Connor was thrilled she didn’t seem to be holding a grudge against him, but he was beginning to suspect she didn’t care in the least. It was both disheartening and humbling. But he was glad that she seemed happy. He might have to be satisfied with that.