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Ralph’s fist clenched against his side. Men like his father and Kinross always won. They got everything good in this world and they shit all over the rest of the people in their lives. His own father had abused both him and Wyatt and he’d died a pillar of the community. Kinross had likely murdered his father and he’d get Clara.
Clara, who was sweet and lovely. Kinross would selfishly use her for his own purposes and never think twice about the fact that he didn’t give her a thing in return.
Then again, Clara was choosing the earl as well. What did that say about her?
He shook his head, not wanting to think these thoughts. Clara was light and beautiful and so very wonderful. But she was one of them. The elite.
He let out a breath. Why was he even conducting this investigation? What was the likelihood that the queen, even if he successfully proved one way or the other what Kinross’s involvement was in his father’s death, would actually keep her promise and make him an earl? Never mind that he’d seen the sheet of paper that declared it so. He didn’t hold that sheet in his hand.
And what were the odds that Clara would ever choose him over Kinross? Kinross might be selfish, but Ralph was… He swallowed. He was less.
Clara left Kinross’s side and started heading toward him. His stomach dropped. What did she intend to say?
But at the last moment, she veered away, going not to him but to Priscilla. Her back was to Ralph as she leaned close to Wyatt’s wife, whispering frantically in her friend’s ear.
They stood just by the open door of the terrace that allowed a breeze into the room. Ralph skirted around the crowd and stepped outside, standing against one of the frames. He was partially cast in shadow but close enough to the women to catch some of their conversation.
“And then what happened?” Priscilla asked, her voice breathless as she reached for Clara’s hand.
“He talked of his father and his regrets.”
Ralph’s chest grew tight. He knew the man was guilty.
“And then?”
Clara hesitated. “Well…” Her tongue darted out as she licked her lips. “He…”
“What?” Priscilla asked, shifting closer. “What happened?”
“He is insecure about becoming an earl, I think.”
“And?” She held Clara’s other hand.
“And…” Clara swallowed, her head dropping. “He asked me to marry him.”
Ralph staggered back. It was his worst fear. Clara was going to marry Kinross.
He turned, stumbling into the dark as he attempted to catch his breath. He’d kissed Clara yesterday. Held her in his arms. And now she’d accept the proposal of another man.
Unless…
His head snapped up. If he could prove that Kinross was guilty, could Clara be his? Would he get the earldom and finally prove to men like his father that he was just as worthy as they were?
Pulling himself up, he started inside again. He saw Kinross speaking with Melby, neither man looking particularly happy.
Ralph hadn’t made it all the way to them before Melby left, his jaw clenched and his eyes angry.
He didn’t have time to wonder what Clara’s brother was upset about. Kinross was alone. Stepping up to the man, he stared at the arrogant earl, crossing his arms. “Funny thing, your father passing just as you came home. You’d not been back in nearly two years, had you?”
Kinross stared at him in confusion before his spine snapped straighter. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, it’s odd, is all. Especially considering your relationship with him. Difficult. No?”
Kinross raised a hand, a finger coming over his lips as he glared at Ralph. “Don’t think that I don’t know what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing?”
“I know you went to Lizzie Rathborn’s house and the doctor’s surgery.”
