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“What sort of errands?” Mister Melby asked.
Clara gave a light tap on his arms. “Don’t pry.”
“I’m not prying. Simply curious. Were you at the baker’s? The solicitor’s? The jeweler’s?”
Jeweler? “None of the above,” he answered, his brows drawing together. “I only wished to see the doctor.”
“Is everything all right?” Clara asked, her face tightening with concern.
“Fine,” he answered easily. “I had questions for a friend. Nothing more serious than that.”
Clara nodded.
“I am on my way to the solicitor. I am certain my sister would prefer to wait with you rather than alone, if you’d care to join us,” her brother offered.
Ralph gave a quick nod of assent, following behind the siblings. They reached the office and Mr. Melby stepped inside.
But Clara remained just outside the door. “I thought it would be more pleasant to stay out here,” she offered, sliding her hand into his arm. “My brother will see us through the window.”
He gave a quick nod. “Good.”
“Ralph.” Her voice dropped low as she moved closer. His heart began a pounding thud in his chest. “The highwaymen. Are they the thieves you’re looking for?”
He blinked in surprise.
Of course she would think that. It made perfect sense. He could lie and tell her he thought it was true. But the lies were unraveling and truths were being revealed. “My guess is that they’re just highwaymen.”
“But if they’re stealing jewels from travelers and they’ve come here…” She drew in a breath. “Doesn’t it seem like they might be the exact sort of men the Bushy Hero would investigate?”
“Yes. It does.”
“So, what if they decided to steal on the way to their larger job—taking Wyatt’s pins and other goods from the funeral attendees.” Then she gasped. “Remember those men at the inn yesterday? What if they were the very—”
“Clara,” he quietly interrupted. “They were likely just men who had a bit too much to drink.”
She winced. “Am I getting carried away? I wanted to help, I suppose.”
“Very kind.”
“Thank you.” She dipped her head as a blush stained her cheeks. “But I’m not really helping, am I?”
No. But not for the reasons she thought. “You are. And I really appreciate it. It’s just, the earl suspects I’m not here simply to mourn on his behalf and he seems angry.”
“Should I talk to him?”
Ralph started. How thick-headed could he get? Why had he said that? “No. Thank you. I’m not sure it will help.”
She shook her head. “You’re likely right. I’m not on his list of favorite people, either.”
“You’re not?” He stopped breathing as he stared at her. “What happened?”
She grimaced. “I wouldn’t want to betray his confidence.”
Ralph’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “That’s very kind. But last night, you appeared to be having an intimate conversation.”
Clara nodded, her gaze still cast down. “I had a girlhood crush on him. With my mother’s illness, I hoped to settle down so she would know I’d secured my future before she”—Clara winced before she continued on—“and I suppose I thought if I saw him again…”
“Your feelings might return.”
