“I have, more often than you know.” Gemma tucked her hands in her pockets. “He’s already done things for me he wouldn’t’ve otherwise because he took pity on me.”
“You truly think that’s all there was to any of it?” Móirín shook her head. “Here I was thinking you were clever.”
“You know he’s a rescuer, going to any length to save anyone he can.”
“And of all those he’s rescued, you’re the only one he’s ever married. And the only one I’ve ever seen him hold in his arms.And the only one he’s begged time and again to make her home with him.” They’d reached the point where their paths divided. “This is more than a rescue to him, Gemma. Stop minimizing it.”
“Minimizing what?” Stone spoke from behind them, not having given away his presence in any way.
Móirín didn’t even jump. Gemma did.
“Our friend here is convinced the good doctor looks on her like a penniless waif in one of Fletcher’s penny dreadfuls.” Móirín shook her head. “Thick as molasses in a cold snap, she is.”
On that, Móirín made her way down the street leading to her job for the day. Stone motioned for Gemma to continue on.
“I didn’t realize I’d be getting a full escort this morning,” she said. “You’d think I were the daughter of a duke or some such thing.”
“Doc’d kill the lot of us if anything happened to you. We’re saving our own necks as much as yours.”
“He’s a little protective of me.” Without a doubt, Móirín would insist that was reason enough for believing he was full in love with her. Gemma knew better. She also knew better than to let the topic linger. “Tell me about this woman.”
“What woman would that be?”
She didn’t think he was being coy. She doubted Stone ever was. “Your secret sweetheart.”
“Ah.” His eyes swept the area but not in a way that anyone would notice. He was keeping a weather eye out—and on her behalf, she’d wager. “Met her after I’d been living in London a few years. She sold secondhand clothes next to the tobacconist’s shop where I worked at the time.”
“Is she pretty?”
His smile was all the answer anyone needed.
“Is she from America, like you are?”
“How do you know I’m from America?”
“Well, you don’t sound like any Londoner I’ve ever met. Took my next best guess.”
Stone shook his head. “She ain’t from America, but I am sure enough. She’s lived all her life in London.”
“Are you hoping to marry her?”
He nodded. “I’d have done so already, but life has complicated things lately.”
“It does that.”
This had to be the most she’d ever heard Stone say at one time. Was he always quiet, or only around people he didn’t know well?
“Do you see her often?” Gemma asked.
“Whenever I can.”
“And no one but Móirín and I are privy to any of it?”
He shrugged. “A fella’s entitled to keep secrets.”
“But you’re digging into plenty of mine,” she pointed out.
“Doc’s a good man. And you seem a good sort as well.” Stone looked at her with a solemn expression. “You ought to try making things right between you.”