A Worthy Heart

by Susan Anne Mason

  The image of Brigid’s face came to mind. No, he was done twisting himself into knots to impress a woman. It wasn’t worth it.

  This was just the thing he needed to put his goals into perspective. He could not afford to be distracted by a passing flight of fancy.

  His homeland and his family needed him far too much for that.

  Aurora paced the plush carpet of the hotel suite, sure the steam of her anger must be escaping from her ears. Never had she been more humiliated by her father’s boorish behavior. His tone throughout the evening had dripped with condescension. Surely Gabe must have noticed it, too.

  Aurora stopped at the window and pushed aside the curtain, straining to catch a glimpse of Gabe as he walked home. In the darkness, she couldn’t distinguish one figure from another. With a sigh, she returned the curtain to its proper place. What could be keeping Papa? Had he stopped at the men’s lounge for a brandy? It was entirely possible.

  No matter, she would wait as long as it took. Thank goodness her mother had claimed exhaustion and gone straight to bed. Aurora wanted to talk with her father alone, without her mother’s constant efforts to keep the peace.

  The door to the suite opened, and her father entered. He removed his hat and set his decorative walking cane in the stand by the door.

  “Aurora, I thought you’d have retired by now.”

  She moved toward him, allowing her anger to compensate for the sudden rush of nerves. “I wish to speak with you, Papa.”

  He tugged his vest into place and strode across the room to the small table near the fireplace, where he picked up his favorite pipe. “What about?”

  She folded her arms in front of her. “About the rude way you treated Gabe.”

  “In what way was I rude to Mr. Montgomery?” He lit a match and applied the flame to his pipe.

  “You know very well how. Your condescending attitude was humiliating—to Gabe and to me. Why did you ask him to dine with us, only to treat him like a peasant?”

  He leveled her with an unapologetic stare. “That is precisely the reason. In case the young buck had any ideas about you, I felt it my place as your father to make sure he knows his.”

  She’d expected him to argue, to claim he’d done nothing wrong. But to hear him actually admit his shameful scheme left Aurora speechless.

  Papa blew out a stream of smoke. “And in the event that all my subtle hints went unnoticed, I made sure Mr. Montgomery got my point quite clearly on the way out.”

  She curled her hands into fists at her sides. “What did you say to him?”

  “Just what I’m about to tell you. You are to have no further contact with that young man. He is off-limits to you.”

  A squeak of protest escaped Aurora’s constricted throat.

  “To make sure he understood, I told him I would be announcing your betrothal by the summer’s end.” Papa pulled his pipe from between thinned lips. “Enough is enough, Aurora. You have wasted your life for the last three years. It’s time to grow up and choose a suitable husband. If you can’t do it, I’m sure I can come up with someone.”

  He settled on the sofa and opened his newspaper, effectively dismissing her.

  Aurora stood, angry breath heaving in her chest. She longed to lash out, to scream her outrage until her father was forced to listen. But there was no use arguing with Papa when he was in this stubborn frame of mind. Instead, Aurora retreated to her bedroom and flung herself on the bed to contemplate her next course of action.

  Come the morrow, she would talk to Dr. Reardon and push ahead with her application to nursing school.

  And when the time was more favorable, she’d break the news to her father.

  Moonlight illuminated Maggie’s way as she descended to the main level of the silent house and entered the empty kitchen. Not wishing to brighten the whole room, she lit a single candle and set the holder beside the stove.

  She had no idea of the time, only that she’d been tossing and turning for what seemed like hours. Thoughts of Neill had plagued her since their encounter in the park, and she’d come to the unhappy conclusion that since it appeared Neill had no intention of returning to Ireland, she could no longer put off telling her brothers.

  Tomorrow when they were all together, she would break the news.

  The clock in the parlor chimed the hour. Maggie counted the tolls, surprised to find it was only eleven o’clock. She took a bottle of milk from the icebox and poured a small amount into a saucepan, setting it to heat on the stovetop. Hopefully some warm milk would allow her to fall asleep before midnight.

  The front door opened, and seconds later Gabe appeared in the kitchen. “Maggie.” He looked startled to see her up.

  “That must have been some dinner to be coming home at this hour.”

  Instead of smiling, Gabe frowned. “I’ve been walking for hours. Not that it helped clear my mind any.”

  Maggie took in his disheveled hair and clothing, and a thread of worry invaded her heart. She lifted the pot from the heat. “Did you not enjoy your evening with the Hastings family?”

  Gabe ran a hand through his already-messy hair. “Not really, no.”

  Rylan had told her that Mr. Hastings wanted to thank Gabe for rescuing his daughter. What could have gone wrong? Maggie took out two mugs and divided the warm milk between them. “Did the Vanderbilt Hotel fail to meet your expectations?”

  Gabe sank onto one of the kitchen chairs. “The hotel is beautiful.”

  “Was Miss Hastings not appreciative of your heroics?” Again her attempt to tease Gabe into a better humor fell flat.

  He sent her a heated glare. “Aurora was perfect. Her father, on the other hand, was a pompous boar.” He picked up his cup and drained the contents in one gulp.

  Maggie sat down and waited for him to elaborate.

  “It seems Mr. Hastings’s purpose in inviting me to dinner was to lord his wealth over me in an attempt to warn me away from his daughter.” He thumped the mug down on the table.

  Maggie took a thoughtful sip of the warm drink. “You’re only here for the summer. Why would he be worried about that?”

  A flush infused Gabe’s cheeks.

  “You wouldn’t be daft enough to start something with her, would you?” Her traitorous thoughts flew at once to Adam. It seemed she needed to take her own advice.

  “What’s the point since we’re leaving?” A nerve ticked in his jaw. “I just hated the way the man treated me like I was lower than a servant.”

  She laid a hand on his arm. “Well, I, for one, know what a fine man you are. You did his family a favor. Let that be the end of it.”

  Gabe’s stubborn gaze slid to the far wall, telling Maggie that it was not the end of it. Not by a country mile.

  Just as it wasn’t the end with Neill. Why were affairs of the heart so complicated?

  For a moment, Maggie considered confiding her worries to Gabe, but from the grim set of his mouth, she decided it was not the right time. Best to approach her brothers when they were in a good humor.

  With any luck, she would tell them tomorrow—before Neill had a chance to accost her again.

  14

  WHAT WAS IT with him and strays?

  “First a baby and now a dog.” Adam kicked a stone off the path as he strode up the sidewalk toward St. Rita’s. As if he wasn’t already irritated enough, this hound had been following him since he’d left John’s church, and no matter how many times Adam tried to chase the thing away, it stayed on his heels, a discreet enough distance away that he couldn’t do much about it.

  When Adam turned down the side alley of the orphanage, the silly thing slunk in behind him, its bone-thin frame shaking. Adam scratched his beard and then peered over the back gate to make sure none of the children were around.

  “I suppose it’s not fair to take my foul mood out on you. Come in for a minute, and I’ll see if Mrs. Norton has some scraps for you, but then you have to go.”

  Foul didn’t begin to describe Adam’s dispos
ition over the past few days. He’d yelled at Maggie to leave him alone, and she’d looked at him with eyes sadder than this mongrel. He knew he’d hurt her feelings, but in the long run, it had been for her own good. Any type of friendship with him could only lead to disaster, and he would do nothing to cause her harm.

  The talk he’d had with John McNabb before leaving this morning had further darkened the cloud of gloom hanging over him. Adam had made the mistake of confiding in John what he’d learned about his parents’ marriage and the fact that he still couldn’t shake the bone-deep suspicion that James was not his real father.

  “Why don’t you just ask your parents?” John had suggested mildly. “Better than all this crazy speculating.”

  Though not happy at the prospect, Adam had been forced to agree. “Perhaps you’re right. I’ll never be at peace if I don’t find out one way or another. But I’ll need to figure out how best to approach it.” He could hardly burst into Irish Meadows hurling accusations. That would only alienate his family further.

  What he needed was a logical plan of action.

  A loud whine brought Adam’s thoughts careening back to the dog at his feet. “Right, scraps. Wait here.”

  He mounted the back steps leading into the kitchen. Though Mrs. Norton loathed the very sight of him, Adam hoped she’d take pity on the poor dog and give it something to eat.

  When he entered the room, cap in hand, ready to grovel if need be, a younger woman turned from the sink, her round, plain face breaking into a welcoming smile. The enticing aroma of baking bread met his nose, and despite having had a decent breakfast, his stomach growled.

  “Hello. Is Mrs. Norton around?”

  “I’m afraid she’s out on an errand. Can I help you?”

  “I’m Adam, the outside caretaker, and—”

  “I know who you are.” The girl winked at him. “I’m Mary, the new assistant cook.”

  Adam swallowed. “Nice to meet you, Mary.” Obviously no one had filled her in on his background. “Would you happen to have any scraps or bones you don’t need? There’s a stray dog out back who’s in need of food.”

  Her countenance brightened. “I’m sure we have something. Let me check.”

  “I’ll be out back.” Adam hurried out the door, in case Rylan or Maggie happened along. He walked to the small shed in the yard and pulled out a pail and a bag of cement mix. While the children were out, he’d fix the cracks in the front stairs. The mangy mutt followed every step he took.

  Soon the back door opened, and Mary waved at him. “I’ve put a few things in this bowl for him.”

  Adam strode across the yard to take it from her. “Thank you, Mary. I hope this won’t get you on Mrs. Norton’s bad side.” He tried for a congenial smile, but his mouth refused to cooperate.

  “Oh, no. Mrs. Norton won’t mind. Just bring the bowl back when he’s done.”

  It took the dog only a few seconds to scarf down the table scraps, and when he was finished, Adam filled the bowl with water and let him drink his fill.

  “You know, if you had a bath, you might not be bad-looking under all that filth.” Adam couldn’t help but recall the day he’d gotten out of prison and how much better he’d felt after some grooming.

  He took a metal bucket from the shed and returned the bowl to the kitchen, grateful to find Mary wasn’t there at the moment. He filled the bucket with water, grabbed a bar of lye soap and a clean rag, then headed back outside. Adam half thought the dog might have disappeared after his belly had been filled, but the mutt had found a spot to lie in the shade. Adam approached with the water, and still the hound didn’t move. With stoic calm, the animal endured the cold bath and scrub of lye. Adam had just congratulated himself on a job well done and had started to douse the animal with a pail of rinse water, when the dog suddenly objected to the whole process. He bolted away, knocking the pail from Adam’s hand, soaking his boots with the remaining water.

  “For the love of St. Patrick,” Adam grumbled, bending to right the pail.

  The mutt bounded back, gyrating to shake the excess water from its coat. The spray drenched Adam’s face. He sputtered, wiping the deluge from his eyes and beard. He squinted at the animal, who, with its tongue lolling, seemed to be grinning at Adam.

  A decidedly feminine giggle sounded behind them.

  “Who’s giving who a bath, I’d like to know.”

  Adam snapped to attention at the voice he’d know anywhere. He glanced over to see Maggie’s gray eyes dancing with merriment. Embarrassment heated his neck as he retrieved the rag he’d intended for the dog and swiped it over his own face. Dark patches of water marred his shirt and trousers. Suddenly he found himself wishing for his former wardrobe—fine suits and shirts, silk ties, and highly polished shoes. Maybe then he could hold his head up with a measure of pride when in the company of this beautiful woman.

  “Whose dog is this?” Not appearing to mind the wet fur, Maggie stroked the mutt’s head. His ropey tail beat a happy refrain on the grass.

  “He’s a stray.”

  “And why would you be bathing a stray? Have you nothing better to occupy your time?” With a saucy grin, Maggie tugged the towel from Adam’s hand and bent to rub the cloth over the dog’s coat.

  Heat pricked the back of Adam’s neck. He directed his glare to the offending creature, who now sat, the picture of docility, basking in Maggie’s administrations.

  “My, he’s a handsome lad,” she said. “Look at this lovely chestnut fur.”

  Adam almost growled, ashamed to find himself steeped in jealousy over a homeless animal.

  “How did he get back here? Surely he didn’t climb the gate.” Maggie straightened, pushing her hair from her face.

  Adam stared at her long, dark curls. What would it feel like to run his fingers through those tresses? With effort, he pulled his gaze back to the dog, who did indeed look much better. “He followed me here and seemed hungry . . .” Adam stopped, realizing how foolish he must sound.

  Maggie grinned at him. “Oh, so you fed him and gave him a bath? A sure way to get rid of him.”

  He shrugged. “What can I say? I felt sorry for the mutt.”

  Her fingers stilled in the dog’s fur. “Which proves my point, Adam O’Leary. You’re a kind man with a big heart.”

  Speechless, he could only gaze into her eyes—so honest and clear, reflecting the beauty of her soul.

  She cocked her head to one side, studying him. “I think a dog will do you a world of good.”

  He straightened, scowling. “I do not need a dog. I’ve no place for him where I’m staying.” He held her gaze. “Which is on a cot in a church basement.” She needed to realize the type of life he was leading.

  Maggie smoothed her dress. “Well, Delia’s been wanting a dog. Perhaps I’ll speak with Rylan tonight and see what he thinks.”

  “He might make a good guard dog for the orphanage.” Adam frowned. “Which reminds me—you might want to tell Rylan I’ve noticed a strange man lurking around at odd times of day.”

  Maggie shivered and pulled her shawl closer around her, her eyes suddenly wary. “When?”

  “Early one morning last week, and another time later in the day. Why?”

  She shrugged but didn’t meet his eyes. “I may have seen him, too.”

  Adam’s protective instincts roared to life. “Maggie, you need to make sure you’re not alone when you go out. The city can be dangerous.”

  She raised her chin. “I’ll be fine. Now, you’ll have to excuse me. I need to let Rylan know I’m back from my walk.” She reached down for one more pat of the dog’s back. “Take care of yourself, Adam.”

  “You as well, Maggie.” He stood, watching her until she disappeared into the orphanage.

  Seconds later, the press of the dog’s wet nose against his hand brought Adam back to his senses. A ragged breath escaped him. He really needed to find a different place to work—somewhere he wouldn’t have to face this constant reminder of something that could n
ever be.

  The next day, when Adam returned to finish his repairs, he was surprised to find the dog sitting at the base of the stairs, tail wagging. Perhaps feeding the mutt hadn’t been the smartest idea.

  “What am I to do with you?” Adam huffed in mock exasperation as he bent to rub the animal’s ears.

  He took a closer look at the dog. Someone must have fed him again this morning. His eyes were clear, and the edge of hunger had disappeared. He appeared contented—happy even.

  “Glad one of us has found a home.” Adam promised himself he’d see if Rylan would like a shelter built for the animal, in the event that he became a permanent fixture at the orphanage.

  After mixing water with the cement powder to form a patch for the cracks, Adam returned to the front stairs with a trowel and began to layer on the mixture. A movement farther along the sidewalk caught his attention. He stiffened as he recognized the man who had been loitering around the orphanage of late.

  “You there,” Adam called out. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  The man hesitated for a moment, but instead of retreating, he came closer. His expensive clothing told Adam he wasn’t simply a vagrant in search of a handout, though the jagged scar on his chin gave Adam pause.

  “Perhaps you can. I’m looking for a woman by the name of Maggie Montgomery.”

  Adam’s stomach muscles tightened as he straightened. The distinct Irish lilt made Adam wonder if this was perhaps yet another brother. “What do you want with her?”

  The brown-haired man moved closer to the stairs. “So you know her, then?”