He took off his cap, raking back his hair which always flopped down over his forehead, before pulling it on again and striding forward more quickly. He would find her and then everything would fall into place. And maybe it was better this way, with a number of months between him tracking her down and her managing on her own with the bairn. If she’d been a skivvy for this miller and his parents it wouldn’t have been a bowl of cherries, especially with the old folk. His da’s parents were dead but his mam’s were still alive and right cranky devils.

Aye, she’d likely be more than ready to fall into his arms by now and once she was his, he’d give up the other lassies. None of them meant anything. He made a sound deep in his throat that signified the scorn he felt for the females he’d had. The last one, Nancy Newton, had been the wife of a miner, a lad he’d been at school with, and when he knew Adam was on the late shift he’d enjoyed many an hour with Nancy, teaching her things Adam had never dreamed of in the bed department. And she’d been a willing pupil, by she had, until she’d fallen for a bairn; whether it was his or Adam’s, who knew, and he cared still less.

He marched on down the street and as he passed a couple of young lassies in summer dresses, he registered their interest in him. They’d be easy, like Nancy and all the others, and he knew if he turned round and looked at them they would be staring after him, all bold innocence and girlish curiosity. It happened all the time, and normally he would have given them the eye just to see them giggle and flutter their eyelashes but his heart wasn’t in it today. At last he had a lead on Rose, and whether it took days or weeks or months he would find her. And when he did – his mouth thinned and the handsome face took on a steely quality – she would be his.

Chapter Twelve

Rose climbed down from the carrier’s cart and lifted Betsy onto the pavement, and as the elderly driver handed her the two bags she thanked him again for the lift. She’d met him on a country lane after making slow progress initially after leaving the mill; Betsy’s little legs had dictated the pace and the further they’d walked the heavier the bags had felt. He’d pulled up beside them, smiling as he’d said, ‘You look done in, lass. Dunno where you’re headed but I’m on the way to Consett if that’s any help?’