‘What changed, Richard? Why have you come looking for me now?’

‘I received a letter from your father’s solicitor advising me that Sir Daniel was dying and he wanted to see me. He had important information he wished to impart to me. I considered tossing the letter in the fire, but curiosity got the better of me. I returned to England and found your father was indeed on his deathbed.’

Adelaide blinked, his words catching at her heart. ‘His deathbed?’

Richard nodded. ‘He died six months ago. Of course you wouldn’t know. I’m sorry, Addy.’

Adelaide lowered her cup to its saucer and let the news of her father’s death sink in.

Before her escape, he had always loomed large in her life, a booming, unloving presence who had never forgiven his only child for the death of her mother. And yet, even in the ten years of her exile, there had been few days when she hadn’t thought of him, pictured him in his shiny top hat and heavy overcoat on the Liverpool docks, counting in his ships. She had always looked over her shoulder, expecting him to appear behind her, larger and more menacing than he had ever been in reality. It came as a shock to think that he had gone and could no longer bend her to his will.

She picked up a spoon and stirred her tea, watching the leaves at the bottom of the cup swirl and eddy, wondering about the decisions she had made in her life and how different it might have been if she had stayed to face her father’s wrath. Would he have forgiven her? Allowed her to marry Richard? Could Danny have been born in wealth and comfort?

This was pointless speculation. What was done was done.

‘How did you find me?’

Richard paused. ‘Your father told me,’ he said and the hand resting on the table clenched. ‘He’d known where you were all the time.’

Adelaide let the teaspoon clatter against the side of the cup.

A wave of anger and disbelief washed over her. The momentary softening of her heart for her dead father evaporated and a red hot rage rose in her.

‘He knew? He knew and yet not once did he try to contact me?’

Richard nodded

‘Addy—there’s more.’ Richard leaned over and placed his hand on hers.

She looked down at it: soft and white with manicured nails. Not a hard workman’s hands. For a fleeting moment she thought of Caleb and his long, clever fingers that carried the gift of healing.

She pulled away, folding her hands on her lap beneath the table, and looked into his earnest blue eyes, fighting the urge to pick up her cup and hurl it at the wall. What more could there be?

‘Go on.’