“He thinks he owns my son.” He slanted a smile her way. “I’m sure you’ve seen it.”
She laid her gloved hand on top of his. “It’s already clear to me that no one owns you, Lieutenant. You are the kind of man a woman can depend on with her life.”
“I haven’t had very good luck with relationships,” he said. “Women seem to put a lot of stock in money and property. I’m not very good at figuring out the gold diggers.”
“I don’t care about money.” But would he believe that when he learned the land he wanted for Edward belonged to her? She might give it back to him, but not if he would sell it. There were bigger and better things to do with it. She studied him. “Your wife, Katherine,” she said. “How long has she been gone?”
His shoulders tensed. “About three years. She was struck by a streetcar in San Francisco. Typical Katherine, she was trying to beat the vehicle across the street.”
“I’m so sorry. She was shopping?” She knew the question was out of line the minute she saw his fingers tighten on the reins.
“So she said,” was his only response.
Addie pondered the cryptic answer. Had Katherine lied to him about what she was doing? Or had he disapproved of the money she spent? She couldn’t decipher the undercurrents.
He sighed. “You’ll hear the rumor soon enough, so I might as well tell you. She was leaving me. Running off with some fellow who was teaching her to golf.”
Addie smoothed the curls away from Edward’s face. “She was leaving her son too?”
He nodded. “His illness was more than she could handle.”
She wanted to pick up the child and hold him close. “It’s not his fault.”
“She thought it was mine,” he said grimly.
Addie knew better than to probe that wound, but oh, how she wanted to heal it.
Addie’s feet barely touched the floor after the day at the beach. When they reached the manor, she turned Edward over to his nurse for a bath while John took the motorcycle to the bank. The house seemed quiet without the very large presence of her father and Clara. She paused in the hallway outside Mr. Eaton’s office.
No one would know if she slipped inside to look for pictures of her mother. The only one she’d seen was the one in Mr. Driscoll’s bedroom. If Mr. Eaton loved her and her mother so much, surely he would keep some memento of their lives in his private domain. Glancing down the hall to make sure no servants were prowling about, she stepped into the office and closed the door behind her.
The late-afternoon sun slanted through the bay windows flanked by floor-to-ceiling bookcases. The chandelier over the desk sparkled with crystal, and heavy velvet drapes hung at the two windows. A spittoon was in a corner by the heavy chair, and a row of pipes was on one corner of the desk. A frame stood on the other corner, its back to her. It was a man’s room, thick with the scent of tobacco. The gleaming redwood desk was clear of papers. She stepped around to the other side and frowned to see the picture was of Clara and another woman. Katherine perhaps? What had she been expecting? Of course Mr. Eaton would have his wife and daughter on his desk. He had no idea Julia still lived.
Addie picked up the picture and stared into the smiling face of the beautiful young woman. Katherine’s hair was blonde and elegant. She had her mother’s patrician nose and full lips, and the gown she wore must have cost the earth. Addie’s bubble of happiness burst. John couldn’t possibly be interested in her after having been married to the lovely girl in the photograph. She set the frame back onto the polished surface, then turned her attention to the bookcases. The shelves held gleaming leather books, and she wondered if she might be allowed to choose some to read. But she found no other photographs.
She turned back toward the door and stared at the drawers on the desk. Might he have any mementos tucked away from Clara? The thought of rummaging through his private papers held no appeal, but she longed to know more of her mother and the little girl once known as Julia. She wanted to find something that showed the love her family had once showered upon her. After a slight hesitation, she settled in the chair and pulled out the top drawer. It held a stack of papers. When she lifted them, a note fell from between the pages. She picked it up and saw several words in a feminine scrawl.
Only a payment of ten thousand dollars will prevent me from telling the world about your child.
Addie studied the note. There was no name to identify the author, and she wasn’t certain Henry was the intended recipient. Maybe it had nothing to do with Henry, but if not, how had it come to be in his possession? She dropped it back into place and closed the drawer before going on to the next.
It was only when she pulled open the lap drawer that she found what she’d hoped to discover. She lifted a small scrapbook from the drawer and laid it on the desk. The leather cover was tattered and torn, but the photographs inside made her throat close. The beautiful woman she’d seen in the portrait stared into the camera. In her arms was an infant. Addie recognized the child as herself. In the next photograph she appeared to be about a year old and stood next to her mother. They were both dressed in white.
Her vision blurred, and a sob lodged in her throat. If only she could snatch the faint trace of memory lingering in her mind. Every time she strained to grasp it, it sifted through her fingers.
She finished flipping through the scrapbook. The last image was the same one she’d seen in the metal box at the lighthouse. Her life as an Eaton had been brief. She closed the book and replaced it, then shut the drawer when she heard John’s motorcycle rumbling up the drive.
TWELVE
TWILIGHT WAS FAST approaching. John sat on the porch and watched his son play with the dog. He smiled at the camaraderie between the boy and Gideon. The dog barked and ran after the ball. The day at the beach had left him more relaxed than he’d been in a long time.
The dog changed directions and raced toward the front porch. John turned to see Addie exiting the house. She stood poised on the top step with an expectant expression. She’d changed from her bathing costume into a shimmery green dress. Her thick hair was wound on top of her head again. He much preferred it down.
“Have you come to call us to dinner?”
She nodded. “Mrs. Biddle said it would be on the table in five minutes.”
“I haven’t seen Driscoll. I think it might just be us.”
“He mentioned he had to make a trip up the coast.” She approached with graceful steps, pausing only to pet the dog and direct him back to Edward. “When would you like to go over Edward’s lesson plans?” she asked when she reached John. “I’d like to ensure I’m doing what you expect.”
He waved Edward over and told him to go get washed up for dinner. When the boy complained, then finally ran off to the house, John gestured to the wicker lawn furniture. “Have a seat and we can talk about it.”
She gathered her skirt and sank onto the chair. Her clear green eyes focused on his face. “Edward is very bright. Is there a reason he is not attending school?”
“I would think it is obvious,” he said.
Her eyebrows winged up. “His affliction? But surely that doesn’t prevent him from school attendance.”
“Kids can be cruel. I don’t want him laughed at or ostracized.”
“You sound as though you know this from personal experience.”
He shied away from the memories of kids mocking his English accent when his family had first immigrated. He’d worked hard to overcome it. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been to school,” she said, her tone wistful.
“Never?”
She shook her head. “My father taught me, and I obtained a degree by correspondence.”
“Admirable.” He meant it. Not many women cared so much about education.
Her cheeks bloomed with delicate color. “Edward has to learn to live in the real world. Better now than to coddle him so much he doesn’t know how to face adversity as an adult.”
“He�
�s five years old. There’s plenty of time for him to face the hard knocks of life.”
She inclined her head. “He’s making great progress in just a few days on his numbers and letters.”
“Excellent.” He found himself watching her as conversation lagged. She was so innocent and sheltered, yet intelligence and fortitude glimmered in her eyes. He’d told her more about his feelings for his son than he’d even discussed with Katherine. Interesting. His wife’s tactic had always been avoidance and tears.
Addie’s slipper-clad feet, peeking out from under her green dress, moved in a rhythmic way, and she was humming “Maple Leaf Rag.” A carriage rolled down the driveway. The groom rushed to help with the horse, and John watched Lord Carrington clamber down and toss the reins to the groomsman. John rose to greet him and noticed the arrival had caught Addie’s attention as well.
“That’s Lord Thomas Carrington, one of Henry’s friends from England. I haven’t seen him in quite some time.”
A bowler perched atop his head. Once upon a time, a black, curly beard had burst furiously from his cheeks and nearly encased his nose and mouth. John had often wanted to suggest Carrington follow the newer fashion and become smooth shaven, if only to see what lay beneath that mass of dark hair. Someone must have told him, because he’d shaved the beard into a trim mustache.
Carrington nodded as he passed. “John.” He stopped when his gaze landed on Addie.
John extended his arm to Addie and waited until she took it. “Miss Sullivan, this is Lord Carrington. Thomas, Miss Sullivan is a friend of the family and has arrived to take charge of Edward’s education.”
The big man moved closer. “Delighted to meet you, Miss Sullivan,” he boomed. “I hope you’ll forgive me for remarking on how fresh and pretty you look this evening.”
Addie blushed. “Thank you, Lord Carrington.” She withdrew her hand from John’s arm. “I’d better make sure Edward gets his hands clean. If you’ll excuse me.” She stepped through the front door.
Both men watched the graceful sway of her skirt. “Pretty girl. Yours?” Carrington asked.
“Of course not,” John said.
Carrington bared his teeth in a smile. “Excellent. I have a mind to call on her.”
“She’s thirty years your junior, Carrington!”
“And pretty and fresh as a flower.”
John barely managed to hold his temper. “If you’re here to see Henry, he’s gone to a concert.”
“A fine reason to call again tomorrow.” Carrington tipped his hat and strode to the buggy.
John stood slack jawed, emotions reeling. That man couldn’t be allowed to get his hands on her.
Addie eyed the bicycle John rolled from the carriage house. “Are you sure I can do this?”
“Of course. It just takes practice.”
“Can I ride too?” Edward asked. He sat with the dog on the grass, watching them.
“Not tonight, little man,” John said.
It pained her to see the light go out of Edward’s eyes. She ran her hand down the gleaming paint. The metal warmed to her touch. “It’s lovely. What do I do first?”
“Put your, uh, right lower limb through to the other side and perch on the seat. I’ll hold the bike steady.”
She lifted her skirt just enough to stick her leg through the opening, then sat. Just gripping the handlebars made it seem more real that she was about to have her first lesson on riding a bicycle. She was conscious of John’s nearness as he held the vehicle steady.
“Now put your feet on the pedals,” he instructed.
She propped her shoes on the platforms. “Do I move them?”
He nodded. “Let’s go. Don’t go so fast I can’t keep up.”
She began to push. John ran beside her on the brick drive, his breath warming her ear. A grin stretched across her face as the wind lifted her hair. “I love this!”
She rode up and down the driveway with John jogging beside her. At the top of the drive, she circled and began to pedal back toward the house. The bicycle rolled and maneuvered as if it were a part of her. She turned her head to tell John again how much she enjoyed the experience and realized he wasn’t beside her anymore. She was balancing by herself. Her initial reaction was to jerk the handlebars, and the bike wobbled, but she regained control and pedaled on down the driveway. She made the final approach to the house on a sweeping curve.
It came more quickly than she’d mentally prepared for. She swerved too far, too fast. The bicycle rocked, and she jerked on the handlebars again to straighten it out. The cycle tipped, and she and the bicycle went down in a tangle of limbs and metal. Addie felt no pain at first, just the shock of taking a tumble. Then her elbow throbbed to inform her that she’d scraped it. Her forearm too. She pushed herself upright as John came running toward her.
“Miss Addie!” Edward, too, rushed to her side, but Gideon reached her first and pranced around her.
“I’m all right,” she said as John arrived.
He knelt beside her and slipped his arm around her. “Are you injured?”
She had no idea of her true condition with him so close. Assessing the pain level, she leaned her head against his shoulder. His presence was the best medicine. “I-I don’t think so.”
Edward threw himself atop her, and she pulled him onto her lap when she realized he was crying. “It’s okay, darling.”
“You’re bleeding,” the child wailed.
John moved away, and she hugged Edward, relishing the little-boy scent of grass and dog. “It’s merely a scratch, Edward. Proof of valor.” John was still near enough that she could smell his bay rum hair tonic.
“I should call the doctor,” John said. He placed his hand on her shoulder.
“No, no, I think I can get up with your assistance.” Aware she was showing more of her leg than was seemly, Addie flipped her skirt into place. She brushed a kiss across Edward’s cheek and scooted him onto the grass. “Papa’s going to help me up.” She grasped John’s arm and allowed him to lift her to her feet.
“Does anything hurt?” he asked.
She smiled into his face. “Only my pride.”
“Let’s get you inside.”
She glanced at the heap of wheels and metal. “No, I want to get back on the bicycle.”
His mouth gaped. “You aren’t afraid?”
“I’m terrified. But if I don’t get back on now, I might never do it. The fall will expand in my mind. I want to learn this.”
She released his arm and stepped away, though she preferred to stay close to him. “The bicycle appears unharmed.”
“But you’re not. You’re bleeding.”
She bent her elbow up to have a look. “As I said, it’s merely a scratch.” She straddled the bicycle again. “I believe I need your assistance.”
“Against my better judgment.” He steadied the bicycle.
She put her feet on the pedals and began to move up the driveway, though her chest was tight and her breathing labored. Chances were, she wouldn’t fall again. Even if she did, she meant to master this skill. She loved the freedom she felt on the conveyance.
John ran beside her again, and she knew he wouldn’t let go unless she forced him. Maybe it was safer to ride with his assistance. But no, playing it safe wouldn’t help her learn to ride by herself.
“You can let go now,” she said, keeping up a steady pressure on the pedal though her pulse began to thump.
He stepped back, and his hands dropped away. “You can do it!” he shouted after her as the bicycle picked up speed on the slope toward the house.
Addie gained confidence as the wheels turned easily and the bicycle handled well. She was beginning to understand how to handle it, and her balance didn’t waver. She reached the front steps and braked. When the bicycle rolled to a stop, she put her feet down and sighed. She’d done it.
“Bravo!” John said, running to her side. “Your form was excellent. Now try to start it by yourself, without my assistance.”
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She smiled back into his animated face. What was this relationship that was developing between them? He’d never answered her question about philandering. Maybe he treated every woman as if she were special. Mr. Driscoll had warned her to be careful, but it was hard to think of such things when she looked into John’s face.
His smile faded when she didn’t move. “Miss Adeline? Are you all right?” he asked.
“Fine,” she said, hastily putting one foot on a pedal.
She gave the bike a push with her right foot, then put her foot on the pedal and began to rotate the wheel. Her balance became steadier as the bicycle picked up speed. She was doing this alone! When she reached the top of the driveway, she turned in a circle and rode back to the house.
Her cheeks were warm from the ride. “I’ll put the bicycle in the carriage house. Thank you for teaching me to ride. It was most exhilarating.”
“One of the stablemen will do it.” When she dismounted, he leaned the bicycle against the porch. “I should put some iodine on your scrapes.”
“I can do it.”
“It’s hard to do by yourself. You can barely see if it’s clean.” He caught her arm and steered her toward the house, then down the hall to the parlor. “Wait here. I’ll get water and iodine.”
She rolled up her sleeve while he went to get the iodine. When had anyone tended to her so lovingly?
Dirt caked her elbow and arm where she’d grazed it on the driveway. Blood oozed from the abrasion. When John returned, he knelt and set the basin of warm water on the floor. Wringing out the washcloth, he touched it to the blood. She didn’t flinch.
“Nasty scrape,” he said. He washed the area as gently as he could.
“I can’t see it well.”
“As I said.” He smiled and set about cleaning the injury. The only time she winced was when he applied the iodine. “Sorry,” he said.
“The sting will ease in a moment.”
He rose and stepped back. “I wouldn’t hurt you if I could help it,” he said.
Addie’s eyes flickered, and she sobered. “You never answered my question at the beach,” she said. “About your intentions. Were you avoiding a straight answer?”
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