that way. She knew he’d cared for the little boy, but he’d never thought of him as his own son. He’d always spoken of him as the boy or the baby. Bridget hadn’t thought she’d ever want to tell Caleb about his child. She’d done it out of sheer desperation. She was glad she had, because he was right—she had been on her own for a long time. She was grateful to have someone stand beside her and be her partner. Someone who wanted to find James as much as she did.
“You’re cold and wet,” he said, rubbing a hand up and down her arm. “I’ll take you for tea.”
“Is it safe for you to be seen in a tea shop?”
“I know one a little out of the way. We’ll sit in the back.” He took her hand in his and led her down back streets and through alleyways until she was thoroughly lost. Finally, they emerged in front of a small shop she’d never seen before. The sign hanging above the door read Mrs. Scott’s Tea Shop. The paint was flaking and the window to the shop rather small, but when Caleb opened the door, a little bell tinkled prettily. Bridget looked around and noted that though the window was small, white lace curtains with cheery yellow sashes framed it. The cozy round tables were covered with lace cloths, and vases of the sort an apothecary might use sat at each table with a single flower inside.
Caleb hung his coat on the stand, then took her wrap and did the same.
A plump woman with doe-brown eyes and a welcoming smile came over and bobbed a curtsy. “Good afternoon, Mr. Smith.” She smiled at Bridget. “Table for two today?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Scott. In the back, please.”
“Your usual table, then. Right this way.” She led them past a scattering of others taking tea. No one paid them any mind. These were not members of the upper echelons of Society—men and women always looking for gossip. These were merchants and tradesmen enjoying a respite on a Saturday afternoon.
They took seats, and Caleb asked for tea and scones. “A bit too early for cakes still,” he said when Mrs. Scott departed for the kitchen.
“It’s never too early for cake,” Bridget retorted.
“You still have a sweet tooth, I see.”
“Unfortunately, as I don’t have the coin to indulge it very often. The cook at the academy, Mrs. White, makes a delicious trifle on special occasions, though.”
He leaned forward, his stunning blue eyes intent on her face. She could have stared into his eyes all day. “I’m not surprised you’re teaching now,” he said.
“You’re not? I’ve only been at the academy a year.”
“I always thought you would make an excellent instructor. You’re patient and good at explaining.”
Bridget felt her cheeks grow warm. “I like to think I am.”
“You were certainly patient with me when the undersecretary asked you to show me how to counterfeit currency.”
She had to hide a smile at the memory. How could she have forgotten that?
“Go ahead and laugh. I know I was a poor student.”
“You tried very hard, and eventually you caught on.”
“I don’t have your artistic abilities.”
She swallowed at the burst of emotion within, and Mrs. Scott chose that moment to bring a tray with their tea and scones. The tea was hot and strong and the scones absolutely some of the best she’d ever had. They were apple today, and she tasted bits of apple dusted with cinnamon in every bite.
“I have a confession to make,” Caleb said after they’d each had a scone and were warm from the tea.
“What’s that?”
“I might have pretended to be worse at counterfeiting than I truly was.”
“Why would you do that?” But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew the reason.
“I had a fondness for the teacher.”
“I confess I didn’t mind extra lessons with you.”
His gaze on her seemed to warm, and she looked down and took a hasty sip of her tea.
“What about your art?” he asked before the silence could become uncomfortable. “Do you still sketch?”
He really did remember everything about her. For so long, she’d thought she meant nothing to him. More and more, she believed he hadn’t wanted to leave without telling her. He’d had no choice.
“Ostensibly, I teach art at the academy. We don’t make public the skills like forgery and lockpicking we show the girls. We hope our students will never need them, but we also want them to be prepared for anything.