‘I would have mourned him,’ Adelaide said. ‘For all his faults, he was still my father.’

Netty snorted. ‘And what’s he done with his fortune and his business?’

Adelaide shook her head. ‘I don’t know. He despised my cousin Albert but I suppose he was the nearest male relative. Maybe Richard knows?’

Netty’s mouth tightened and without looking at Adelaide, she said, ‘And what about your American?’

Adelaide bridled at the very question she had been asking herself. ‘He’s not my American and this is nothing to do with him,’ she said. ‘This is about Danny. He should be with his father.’ But she could hear the rising note of uncertainty in her voice.

‘You think just because a man planted the seed, he has the right to the harvest?’ Netty said.

‘Netty!’

‘Well, it’s true. My own father was a drunken good-for-nothing—the man who lived with my ma was more a father to me and my brothers and sisters than ever my pa was. It’s been a long time since you and Mr Barnwell formed an attachment. I can tell you that you’re not the same person. I would wager neither is he.’

‘What do you mean, Netty?’

‘I mean that you should take time to get to know Mr Barnwell. Don’t you go giving him your answer until you’re sure in your own heart.’ Netty stood up. ‘In the meantime, you have work to do and a post office to run and Mr Barnwell will be at the door any minute. Tidy yourself up and put a smile on your face and the world’ll seem a better place.’

The door clicked behind her and Adelaide threw a glance at the reflection in the mirror that hung over the washstand. Her mirror, her washstand—items purchased by dint of her own hard work. If she truly loved the man to whom she was committing her life, how hard would it be to surrender that hard-won independence? Netty was right. She needed to time to reacquaint herself with Richard, learn to love him again or, if not love, at least forge a friendship. Friendships could lead to love.

The tears threatened again. Friendship had led to love with Caleb but now she had to put that to one side. Everything had changed. Everything.

When the knock came, Adelaide took one last glance at herself in the mildewed mirror that hung over the fireplace, tucked a wayward curl into place, fixed a smile on her face and, with hands that shook and a heart that crashed against her corset stays, opened the door.

Richard stood in the shelter of the porch, holding two parcels wrapped in brown paper and string.

Adelaide stood aside to admit him.

He scanned the room and turned back to face her. ‘Where is he?’