Courting Susannah Read Free Page B

description—from your perspective.”
    So he
had
cared, despite Julia’s protestations to the contrary. Susannah’s heart softened, and she smiled, a little sadly, to remember it all again. She sighed. “Julia
hated
being left behind at St. Mary’s—I think she knew her mother was never coming back for her.”
    Mr. Fairgrieve leaned forward, listening intently, but said nothing.
    â€œShe was an actress on the stage—Julia’s mother, I mean—and I suppose that’s where Julia got her termperament. She was—well—somewhat
high-strung
.”
    Aubrey raised his eyes briefly heavenward. “That’s an understatement.”
    Susannah felt a little defensive on her friend’s behalf. “If you’d been there—if you’d seen how she cried, how she flung herself against the iron gate and called for her mother to come back—” She closed her eyes against the image, but it was as clear as if it had happened only moments before, though, of course, nearly fourteen years had passed. “The nuns practically had to drag Julia inside. She carried on until she was sick. Finally, a doctor was summoned. He gave her a dose of laudanum to make her sleep, and she was still in such a state that they kept her in the infirmary for days.”
    Mr. Fairgrieve did not flinch. “St. Mary’s is an orphanage, then?”
    Susannah nodded. “As well as a school and a hospital.”
    He sat in silence for some time, absorbing what she had said. “And you?” he asked finally.
    â€œMe?” she replied, confused.
    â€œHow did you wind up there? At this—school, I mean?”
    Susannah bit her lower lip. “I was raised there.” She looked down at the baby and rocked just a little faster in the sturdy wooden chair. Speckles of sun-washed dust twinkled in the air. “One of those children you read about in penny dreadfuls—left on the doorstep in a basket—except that I was in an old fruit box.”
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    She bristled slightly, although there had been a note of gruff kindness in his voice. “Don’t be. I was very happy at St. Mary’s. The nuns were good to me, and I was given an education of sorts.”
    â€œYou never married.” It might have been either a question or a statement, he spared so little inflection for the words.
    Susannah felt the old hollowness inside and quelled it quickly. The baby was asleep now, sweet and sated. “No,” she said softly, and at some length. “I worked as a companion after I left school, and there never seemed to be time for anything else.”
    He sighed heavily, shoved a hand through his lustrous hair. “Until you left your work to come here. To Seattle.”
    Susannah wanted to weep, though she did not allow herself that release, fearing she might never stop crying. “I felt I could do nothing else. Julia’s letters—”
    â€œI can well imagine Julia’s letters,” he said wearily and with some disgust. He spread his hands, started to say something else, and bit back the words.
    â€œI won’t be a burden, Mr. Fairgrieve,” Susannah said, perhaps too quickly. She was a proud woman, but she was prepared to beg if that was what she had to do. “I can give music lessons, if you will allow me the use of Julia’s piano, and, of course, I will pay room and board.”
    â€œAll this,” he asked, rising to his feet, “for a stranger’s child?”
    â€œJulia was not a stranger,” Susannah said.
    â€œNo,” Aubrey answered. “I don’t suppose she was—to you. But I am.” He paused. “Aren’t you afraid to live under the same roof with the sort of monster Julia must have made me out to be?”
    She met his fierce gaze, held it. “I can look after myself,” she said evenly. “My concern is for this baby. I’d like to call her