Finally, the woman seemed to think there might be something to Gemma’s arrival. “You’re kin to him, are you?”

Not the response she’d expected.

“He ain’t never mentioned me?”

“He’s never mentioned any family aside from his mother. And even she’s only whispered about.”

That hadn’t changed, then. Baz had loved his mother deeply, and he mourned her with every ounce of himself. Perhaps he didn’t speak of Gemma because his feelings for her were tender as well. That’d explain a great many things.

The woman motioned her inside, eyeing Gemma’s carpetbag. Let the woman stare. Gemma was home at last, and she’d endure no clouds marring her sunshine.

“You’d do best to wait in the library,” the woman said. “We might have patients drop in, and that’d require the use of the sitting room.”

Gemma gave a single nod, then turned toward the library door.

“You know where the library is?”

“I’ve been here before,” Gemma said.

“Not in the last two years. I’d know you otherwise.”

“It ain’t been in the last three years.”

This woman, who’d worked for Baz for years and seemed intelligent and keen, hadn’t the least idea who Gemma was. That sent a wash of worry over her.

Had Baz not ever mentioned his vagabond wife? Not even in passing? That weren’t a comforting possibility.

He’d sent for her. He’d asked her to return, to come home again. On those simple truths she was steady as castles.

Gemma sat in a wingback chair, set her carpetbag on the floor beside her, and waited. Alone. The library contained more volumes than it had three years earlier but was still nowhere near full. Books came dear, and Baz had never laid claim to a fortune. The money his doctoring brought him went, in large part, toward his rescue efforts. She knew that firsthand. He had a heart as good as gold. She’d always admired that about him.

Her gaze fell on a shelf with a long line of thin, booklet-sized items. She knew what they were: penny serials. His penny serials. Baz’s first had been published while this house had still been her home. Now, she saw his tales being read all over. She’d nearly burst with pride in him.

Voices sounded in the corridor. Gemma perked up her ears but kept still.

“Claims to be family,” the nurse said. “But I know you don’t have any living family. Leastwise, none you know of.”

Gemma knew Baz hadn’t the first idea who his father was or of anyone connected to his mother’s family. But he did have family. He had her.

“Did she give you a name?”

That was his voice. She hadn’t heard it in years but knew it in an instant.

“Gemma Milligan.”

“Oh, brilliant.” He sounded excited.