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Clara looked back at Ralph as he scrubbed his hands on his coat before coming toward her.
She understood Priscilla’s point. She needed a man who’d carry her through the mud. Block the rain. Metaphorically speaking. Could Kinross be that man? Would he?
But she didn’t have time to answer her own questions before she was being swept into Mr. Fitzroy’s arms once again.
Oh my, but he was strong and he made her feel light as a feather as her arms wrapped about his neck once again, her body cradled against his. She could feel the easy movement of his muscles as he picked through the mud with her in his arms. “Your poor boots!” she said, glancing down. “You’re going to be terribly uncomfortable the rest of today.”
He gave her an easy smile that made her insides melt like heated wax. “Not to worry. We’ll stop in the next village. Everyone could use a hot bath and bowl of stew, I think.”
A sudden image of him in a bath, steam rising around him as he washed—she forced herself to stop, her throat growing tight. “Will the journey take us an extra day, do you think?” She wasn’t even certain she cared. She’d set off in such a hurry, eager to go and then return home, but she’d not even arrived and she was already having doubts about coming.
He shook his head. “If the rain stops, we can leave early tomorrow and still make it on time.”
She frowned. How would she feel about Kinross when she saw him? And what if he was involved with those thieves as Mr. Fitzroy had insinuated?
She’d have to ask Mr. Fitzroy more about his investigation.
Clara, the fluttery bird he’d ridden with on the first day, had gone quiet as they rumbled through the mud, all of them wet and dirty.
Ralph grimaced, wondering if something was wrong. Then he nearly laughed at himself. He’d found her restlessness annoying on that day, or all her movement had just made it impossible to ignore the beauty sitting across from him.
But as she sat now, with her chin propped on her fist and her elbow on her knee, her eyes staring blankly at the passing scenery, he wished to ask what troubled her.
Then he shook his head. He was forever diving in to solve other people’s problems. Didn’t he have enough of his own?
He had no idea what to do with this investigation. And, honestly, some of his appetite to use his new power exposing the misdeeds of the elite had waned. Clara was not the enemy just as Wyatt and Priscilla weren’t either. But if he wasn’t going to use the title for that, what would he do with all that land and money?
Was he somehow going to land himself in deeper trouble than the Bushy Hero business?
Clara began tracing a pattern on one of the inlaid panels of the carriage, her head tilting even further to the side. A soft sigh escaped her lips.
Leaning forward, he couldn’t seem to help himself. “Wet boots?”
Her startled gaze shifted to his. “I beg your pardon?”
“Did your boots leak water with the rain?”
“Oh. No,” she answered with a small shake of her head. “Why do you ask?”
“You look uncomfortable,” he said honestly.
Her eyes widened. “Do I?” She sat up straighter, adjusting herself in her seat. “I’m just thinking mostly.”
He gave a quick nod of acknowledgment, knowing it was not his place to ask more. But he’d like to. He wanted to ask her what she was thinking about.
As if she’d heard his request, she started speaking again, her voice soft. “My mother is ill. And while I’m happy to support our family friend, I’m worried, I suppose.”
If Priscilla and Wyatt were listening too, they said nothing as he sat forward. “Ill? With what?”
She shrugged. “No one knows.” Then she wrinkled her nose. “But if I was fidgety that first day, my apologies. It’s because I am anxious to arrive and then return home.”
Her words crashed into him, his chest tightening with guilt. He’d given her a hard time for not enjoying the journey. He’d made assumptions about what sort of person she was based on that behavior and his assumptions about the elite. He was a cad. “We can keep going today. The rain is holding off.”
She shook her head, her hands coming out in front of her. “No. That’s all right, thank you, though, for your consideration. Both you and Wyatt should change and eat.”
His mouth pressed into a thin line as he looked at her. Ralph, as a general rule, took care of others. He didn’t always know how to let others care for him.
Wyatt was the only exception and even then… He supposed that he’d spent his childhood protecting Wyatt from their father’s tyranny. It hadn’t been because Wyatt was legitimate. At least not then. His brother had been younger and smaller and needed the help. And Ralph liked the role of defender, it suited him to look after others.
