Torn in Toronto: Sweet Victorian Romance (Yours Truly: The Lovelorn Book 6)

by Wendy May Andrews

  Caitlyn could feel her face twisting into a scowl at the thought of the other man she was avoiding. It was much easier for her to avoid him, though. For one thing, although she could understand why some of the other girls thought he was handsome, he didn’t set her heart to hammering like a glimpse of Connor did. For another, because he was just a little too old fashioned and pompous for her tastes, it was easy to avoid him. Despite how enamored her mother was with Westridge, Caitlyn just couldn’t work up any enthusiasm for his presence.

  Mr. Westridge had tried to appear interested in her interests. He didn’t seem to mind so much her reading. Except when it became too intellectual. Not that he wasn’t smart. From what Caitlyn could tell he was well educated and intelligent. He just didn’t appear to think women ought to be. So, while he tried to hide it, he didn’t approve of her pursuing a position. He was firmly of the mind that a young woman ought to be pursuing a husband, not a career. Caitlyn couldn’t really blame him for his thoughts. Everyone else had them, too. But there were plenty of women who needed to be able to support themselves. Especially here in this new country of Canada.

  There were widows and orphans who had no choice. While it was true that there were fast women who were just out for adventure, much like her, Caitlyn supposed. Although, she would never in her wildest dreams consider herself fast, but she dearly wanted some adventure. With a sigh, Caitlyn tore her thoughts away from the circle they were getting into and returned to contemplating Rafe Westridge. One would think with a name like Rafe he’d be a little more dashing. She ought to swoon over him just for his name, she thought with a cheeky grin. But sadly, he didn’t live up to the adventuresome name.

  He just wanted her for her polite manners, pretty form, and family connections. It was rather lowering, in Caitlyn’s opinion. In many ways she was quite traditional. She would never actually wish to put anyone to the blush, least of all her family members. And she had every intention of settling down, marrying, and raising a family. But she would like to think that behind the doors, within her own home, her husband would be willing to discuss his business with her. So, she couldn’t consider marriage with a man who didn’t think she ought to have such ideas, or worse didn’t think her capable of it, or worst of all, disapproved of her capability to think such thoughts.

  So, she would keep being Connor’s telephone service and strive to be satisfied. She was only twenty, after all. Surely there was still time for her to figure it all out. That was one advantage to living in a young country. There were always plenty of men. Mrs. Doherty’s fear that Caitlyn would end up a spinster was truly unfounded. Unless that was the choice Caitlyn made. Which she reserved the right to do. While, by law, she wasn’t really a person in her own right, she did, also by law, have the right to remain single. No one could force her to marry if she didn’t wish to. Of course, being the biddable, slightly traditional young woman that she was, if her mother’s persistence didn’t let up, she might actually be forced. But surely Westridge wouldn’t want her under such circumstances. He wasn’t the sweetest man she had ever met. That designation fell to her grandfather. But Westridge was a decent enough fellow. He would surely want a willing bride.

  Her troubled thoughts had accompanied her all the way back to the office. Caitlyn quickly deposited Connor's lunch on his desk before excusing herself for the day. Part of her wished she could stay longer, but her mother would have never agreed to her working more than three hours each day. This day, in particular, she needed to return home. If her mother had followed through on her threats, or promises, Rafe Westridge would be expecting her presence for the noon meal.

  Chapter Two

  Connor shook his head as he watched Caitlyn scuttle from the room. The girl was a complete contradiction.

  She was beautiful, for one thing. Her hair was some sort of color he couldn’t define. Somewhere between yellow, brown, and red. She would probably have some ridiculous word for it like auburn or strawberry blonde. He didn’t much care what it was called, but he liked that it seemed to change colors with the light and sometimes even her mood, which was fanciful and unlikely, but that was the impression he got at times. Too, there were her eyes. Stormy grey one moment, but they could also be bright blue or even tinged with green. Again, it depended on the lighting or her mood. Whatever her description, he liked looking at her. Except when it was a distraction. Which lately it always seemed to be.

  He had thought it would be a good idea when he had offered her the job as his telephone operator. And it was on one hand. Her sweet voice was a favorite of most of his business contacts. So much so that it had increased his morning calls, causing his afternoons to be freer, which he very much appreciated. He was far more productive in the afternoons when one of his clerks was the one answering the telephone calls. And some of that could be attributed to the fact that his associates now arranged their phone calls for the morning when Caitlyn was answering. The rest could be related to the fact that his mind was more focused when she was no longer in the next room. And that was a mixed problem he wasn’t sure how to solve.

  Glancing down at his desk, he couldn’t help grinning over one of her neatly written notes. She had meticulously written down everything the caller had said but then added her own comments. He probably ought to reprimand her, as it was not part of her job to offer her opinion on his business. He would do so, except for the fact that her observation was sound.

  Picking up the wrapped sandwich she had brought for him from his favorite deli, Connor sighed and took a big bite, pondering her notes and the conundrum of the note writer. He grinned as he remembered how furious her mother was when he hired Caitlyn. He wouldn’t have wanted to be her when Caitlyn informed her parents that she would be spending her mornings working for Dalton Industries. The Dohertys needed to keep up with the times, he thought with a wry twist to his lips. In many ways, he added as he remembered the wax that had dripped on his thumb when he tried to adjust the light in the growing dusk of their receiving room.

  Even whilst exclaiming over the small burn he had sustained, Mrs. Doherty had been lamenting the advent of electric lighting and the wires it was bringing into their neighborhood. Connor had bitten his lip and not bothered to tell her that his was one of those wretched businesses bringing the ugliness to her community.

  “I ask you,” she had chattered while dabbing at his injured thumb, “what is going to come of us all with these dreadful wires running everywhere? Someone is sure to get hurt. And what about the birds? Surely it cannot be good for them to be sitting there with all that, what’s it called? Electricity? Running beneath them? Surely the poor creatures are going to suffer. And if we don’t have the birds anymore then I suppose the insects will overtake us.”

  Connor had heard complaints about the esthetics of electricity many times before but hadn’t actually had anyone question whether or not they would soon be overrun with insects because of the hydro wires. It wouldn’t do to laugh at his friend’s mother, but it was a hard-won fight to keep the smirk off his face. Especially when he had heard Caitlyn’s soft exclamation.

  “Mother, really, we needn’t bother Mr. Dalton with our worries.”

  Connor knew full well Caitlyn wasn’t in the least worried about the birds. She had confided in him that she loved the poles and wires for what they represented, even if they were a little displeasing to the streetscape.

  “I do think it would have been better if they had run the wires behind the houses, but I suppose no one wants to allow the necessary machinery into their yards to root around in their flower beds,” she had observed rather astutely.

  “You’re quite right, Caitlyn. Everyone loves advancement until it inconveniences them.”

  “Not everyone,” she had grumbled. “I don’t see how it can possibly inconvenience my mother, but she is determined to remain firmly settled back in the eighteenth century. Doesn’t she realize that we’re nearly to the twentieth? I don’t see how she can avoid technology when it is going to be all aro
und her. And she doesn’t complain about the running water and plumbing that we have in our neighborhood. I’m sure that was considered a bit of an outrage when all the pipes were being run twenty or more years ago, but can you imagine the alternative?”

  “Well, in her defence, your neighborhood was built that way. The plumbing wasn’t added after the houses were built.”

  “Perhaps not in our neighborhood, but what about down near the harbor? All those houses would have had any plumbing added after construction. And the pipes would have had to be laid under existing streets. I’m sure it was a dreadful mess and a terrible inconvenience for a while. But so very worth it, once it was completed. I, for one, am grateful that I’ve never had to live without plumbing.” Her cheeks had colored both from her fierce ideals and probably from embarrassment over discussing what some would consider an unladylike topic, if the conflicting emotions that were flitting across her face were anything to go by.

  Connor had grinned at her enthusiasm. He certainly wouldn’t argue with her about that. He, for one, was quite happy with technology. And he most definitely wouldn’t argue with how it was lining his pockets. Technology was the future, and those that stayed behind would be left behind financially as well. But Connor didn’t mind keeping his windfalls a secret as long as he possibly could.

  Clearing his throat, Connor tried to bring his attention back to the contract he was perusing. Caitlyn had been gone from his office at least fifteen minutes already, and he felt as though he could still ascertain her scent. Not that she wore perfume as far as he could tell, at least not an overwhelming one. But there was a clean, flowery scent that seemed to follow the girl. She hadn’t even entered his office that day, remaining diligently at her telephone table for the full three hours she was hired for.

  He grinned over his memory of her refusal to leave early. Anyone else in his employ would have leapt at the offer. But not Miss Doherty. She really was a funny little thing. Such a strange mix of loyalty and avoidance. She would never think of shirking her duties and happily did whatever he asked of her, but then scuttled out the door as soon as it was lunchtime. It was as though she were avoiding him. He hoped he wasn’t intimidating her. Not that he wanted her to be comfortable with him.

  Despite how attractive he found her, there was no way he wanted to pursue a relationship with her. He was far from ready to settle down, and she was most definitely the settling down type, despite her interest in enterprise. And even though she was such a sweet, biddable young lady, her wide, intelligent gaze saw far too much. He liked how smart she was; she made a great employee, despite being a female, but he could never pursue a courtship with her.

  The biggest reason he couldn’t be attracted to Caitlyn, besides the fact that he wasn’t yet ready to fill up his newly purchased house, was the fact that he was friends with her brother. Dylan Doherty was off exploring his own opportunities. That was how Connor had come to call upon the Dohertys in the first place. When their paths had crossed briefly in Europe, Connor had promised Dylan he would call on his family if he were the first to return to Toronto.

  Keeping his promise was one of the first things Connor had done. His own family had sadly dwindled while he had been exploring the world. His mother had died, and his sister had married and moved west. It was just Mr. Dalton left, and he was a surly old man who hadn’t welcomed his son eagerly despite happily spending the money Connor carefully accumulated for him.

  It had been a pleasure to reconnect with the Dohertys, even though they were fundamentally different in their views. They were so familiar and felt like home due to his years of friendship with their son. His childhood had been split between his own home and that of the Dohertys. It was strange now, as an adult, still viewing them in a parental role. Even more so than his own father. Connor rather thought that was due to needing to give his father money. It changed the relationship. Mr. Doherty, on the other hand, was still fit, young enough to be still working and supporting his family. And both Mr. and Mrs. Doherty felt quite able to tell him their thoughts on his own actions and offer advice. He, for his own part, felt quite able to ignore their advice, but it gave him a warm feeling to be on the receiving end of it even if he didn’t agree with it.

  That was just one more reason why he had to ignore this strange preoccupation with Caitlyn. Miss Doherty, he reminded himself. He appreciated her efforts to keep the relationship on a professional footing. Keeping the formal address might keep her in the right part of his mind. She was an employee. And his best friend’s sister. She was not to be an object of ogling.

  He couldn’t imagine Mrs. Doherty would consider him to be an acceptable candidate for her precious daughter’s hand in matrimony. Despite their similar national background, Mrs. Doherty was fixated on finding a noble match for Caitlyn, Miss Doherty. Connor was actually surprised she hadn’t taken the girl to London for a debut there for all she was so determined to join the ranks of the wellborn. It was something that had amused him all his life.

  Mrs. Doherty’s grandfather had been one of those fellows that had moved to the colonies from England. First to New York and then coming to Canada when the States had gone to war with England. So, he supposed he could understand her attachment to the old country. It had been bred into her family for generations. But really, they were all Canadians now. From what Connor had seen during his time in Europe, even though Mrs. Doherty considered herself firmly Irish, that wasn’t going to endear her to any nobles, even if it were true. From their standpoint, she would be considered a colonist. A Canadian at best. Most definitely not a member of the United Kingdom, despite Canada’s continued loyalty to the Crown. It would be a tragedy for the poor woman. He had overheard Caitlyn sighing in frustration over her mother’s obsession with Rafe Westridge. He was the best she could do for a noble connection for Caitlyn. Connor didn’t care for the man overmuch, but he wasn’t the worst he had encountered. If Mrs. Doherty could bring him up to scratch, Caitlyn could do worse.

  Connor thought back to the period between when he had returned to Toronto and when he hired Caitlyn. Miss Doherty, he reminded himself with a quick shake of his head. Before Mrs. Doherty had become furious with him for corrupting her daughter by bringing her into the corporate world, he had been a frequent dinner guest. The family had seemed to enjoy the tales of his adventures in Europe. Especially whenever he told them about crossing paths with Dylan.

  There were often other guests at the table. The Dohertys were a hospitable family. Mr. Doherty often invited his bigger banking clients to share a meal. Connor had actually made some helpful connections at that very table, and he often wondered if that’s why he was included. Mr. Doherty couldn’t resist what seemed to be an innate urge to help his son’s friend. But when he suspected it began to look a little too much like he was courting Caitlyn, his invitations had dried up. Connor was certain that was Mrs. Doherty’s doing. He wondered if Mr. Doherty had even noticed. Either way, since he had hired Caitlyn, he hadn’t been invited for dinner even once.

  He had appreciated that Caitlyn had called him Mr. Dalton from the moment she walked into his offices. While it felt strange to be formal with someone he’d known since she was a little girl in short skirts and pigtails, Connor didn’t want any of his other employees to be informal with her, so he needed to set the example. It was still hard to remember to call her Miss Doherty, though. It was hard for him to think of her that way. She would always be Caitlyn. Even Cait, or Caitie, but he hadn’t called her that since she was a child.

  He wasn’t getting anything done by trying to resist his thoughts about her. Perhaps if he indulged them for a moment…

  “Tell me more about Paris, Connor, I beg of you.”

  Her shining eyes and rapt attention made Connor’s chest feel bigger, which was ridiculous, but he couldn’t resist her eager interest. He laughed. This was a familiar topic.

  “I’ve told you all about Paris at least a dozen times.”

  “Tell me again, Connor. I want to feel a
s though I’m there even though I’ll probably never see it for myself.”

  With those words, Connor couldn’t possibly withhold his words from her.

  “There’s a café on every corner and churches everywhere. The brickwork is much lighter than here. They favor white or cream bricks and stones. Even though I like Toronto’s penchant for the red bricks, there’s just something so clean looking about the lighter color.”

  “See, that is a new little bit of information I don’t think you’ve mentioned before,” she said as she squeezed his arm. “Did you hate to come back?” The dimming enthusiasm in her gaze made his chest tighten. He almost blurted out that he would always love returning to her. But he managed to contain the fanciful words.

  “Not in the least,” he assured her, keeping any romantic tones at bay. “While all of Europe is fascinating to explore and I dearly hope you do get to see it one day, I was eager to return home and get on with my life. The French are resistant to anyone they view as outsiders. Someone from Canada definitely falls in that category in their minds, even though I could speak their language reasonably well.”