A tiny figure in an oversized gingham dress stepped onto the verandah. Caleb gestured for the young woman to join them. She bobbed her head and looked fixedly at the ground.

‘This here’s Posy Edwards.’

‘I know Posy,’ Adelaide said. ‘You worked for the Murrays, didn’t you?’

Posy gave a curt nod.

‘Mr Murray has upped and left town, leaving Posy to fend for herself, so I’ve given her a job as my housekeeper, but as you can see the poor girl was left with only this disgraceful rag to her name. Caleb waved a hand at the shapeless dress that swamped the girl’s slight frame. I was wondering if you could help by asking the good ladies of the town if they have some necessities to help this poor girl?’

‘Of course,’ Adelaide said. ‘Netty and I will be glad to help.’

Posy looked up, a shy smile on her face. ‘Could you, missus?’

Adelaide smiled. ‘I will speak with the Ladies’ Committee and I can guarantee, by the end of the week, you will be dressed like a duchess. Where are you staying?’

Posy glanced at Caleb. ‘Dr Hunt has made an arrangement with Yorkie for me to bed down at the Britannia with his maids.’

‘Thank you kindly, Mrs Greaves,’ he said.

His expression of bland politeness told her nothing and she was reminded of the man she had first met—polite but distant. Everything that had passed between them had been locked away.

She gestured at the labouring workmen, who had managed to get the desk stuck on the door frame. ‘What’s happening at the Britannia?’

‘I’m setting up a surgery,’ he said, adding with a rueful smile, ‘of sorts. Mr Russell kindly donated the desk. It will take up pretty much the whole room. Certainly doesn’t leave space for much more than a couple of chairs but at least it’s somewhere folk can find.’

‘A surgery? In a hotel?’ Richard said, his lip curled in distaste.

Caleb’s gaze flicked to Richard. ‘It’s as good a place as any,’ he said. ‘Posy here is giving it a good cleaning with carbolic.’

Posy looked up at Caleb with what Adelaide could only describe as adoration. She wondered if Caleb made a habit of collecting waifs and strays, like herself … like Danny.

‘If you will excuse me, Caleb, I have a telegram to deliver,’ Adelaide said.

He inclined his head in a gesture of dismissal that took in both herself and Richard and returned to the problem of the desk.

‘You are very familiar with that man,’ Richard said.

Adelaide ignored the stiffness in his tone. ‘He’s a friend.’

‘Hardly your sort of people.’

‘Who are my sort of people, Richard?’

He opened and closed his mouth, then said, ‘People of quality—people of the better classes.’

‘People like you?’

‘Exactly.’