And with that, she turned so quickly her skirts flared out around her. She tromped past the empty stalls, hoping she kicked up enough dust to make Roman cough.
How dare he treat her like a child with no discernible use? How dare he speak to her in that manner! Clara pushed through the door in the rear of the stable and let it slam behind her.
“Whoa, Miss Brown. You’ll scare the horses,” Mr. Wiley said to her from beside the corral, where he stood with a smiling Deidre.
“I apologize. Deidre, we must leave now.” Clara ground out the words, tears threatening to spill if she didn’t keep herself together.
“Oh! All right.” Deidre’s face was slightly flushed as she turned to Clara.
“Is everything well?” Mr. Wiley asked.
“Perfectly,” Clara said, conjuring the words from some place inside that was still capable of normal conversation. “I’m sorry that you were hurt last night.”
Mr. Wiley rubbed his head, his hat at his side. “Thank you, miss. It’s nothing that won’t heal.”
“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Wiley,” Deidre said.
“Yes. Yes, it was good to meet you too, Miss Hannan.” And to Clara’s utter astonishment, Mr. Wiley’s face went red as he returned his hat to his head.
They left from the corral, as the last thing Clara wanted to do was walk through the stable again.
“Mr. Wiley is awfully nice,” Deidre said as soon as they were past the livery.
Clara glanced at her friend. Deidre was smiling at nothing, her blue eyes alight in the sun.
“He is,” Clara replied. “I believe him to be a good man.”
But despite her words, Deidre must have heard something in her voice that belied her mood. “Did something happen between you and Mr. Carlisle?”
“He asked me to leave.” That was all Clara could say, lest the tears that pricked at the backs of her eyes begin to fall.
“I’m certain he only wants you to remain safe,” Deidre said.
“Perhaps.” Clara pondered Deidre’s words, but it certainly didn’t feel that way. He’d simply asked her—no,toldher—to leave. And that was before he’d said she was unhelpful and he wanted her out of the way.
What kind of wife could she be to him if he wouldn’t let her stay nearby to help and provide comfort when he was in such distress? It was almost as if he didn’t want a wife at all. Or he didn’t wanther.
Clara choked back a silent sob, determined not to worry Deidre.
She had two choices: let the worry consume her whole, or prove to Roman how useful she could be. If he still didn’t want her, well . . . she’d figure out what to do if that happened.
But right now, the sun was out, she had a good friend at her side, and Clara refused to let herself drown in fear. She’d make a good wife, and she’d ensure Roman knew it.
And she knew exactly how she would accomplish that—she would find those horse thieves.
