Page 23 of Mail-Order Viscountess

His gaze shifted to the ice wall, then back to the fire. “Instead of leaving for California.”

California. The word hung between them like smoke. He planned to leave? That’s why his brothers had acted—not just to settle him, but to trap him here. Or maybe just keep him close.

“You were going to leave your family.” She didn’t say it as a question.

“I was going to build my own life.” The distinction clearly mattered to him. “There’s a difference between leaving people behind and choosing your own path.”

Was there? She’d spent years planning her escape from Columbia—from her stepmother’s conniving and her father’s weakness. She’d dragged Clara halfway across a continent to avoid the future that had been laid out for them. Running or choosing—the destination looked the same either way.

“Is it?” Her voice held a challenge. “Choosing a path means you know where you’re going. Running just means you’re desperate to be anywhere but where you are.”

His gaze snapped back to hers, something sharp flashing in those hazel eyes. “And which one are you doing, Miss McKinney?”

The question landed like a slap. She tightened her jaw, heat flooding her face despite the cold still clinging to her bones. He had no right to turn this back on her.

Except he did have a point, didn’t he?

She looked away, focusing on the flames instead of the uncomfortable truth in his words. The fire crackled and hissed, a piece of bark curling black as it burned. Was Butte really the place she’d chosen, or just the farthest point she could reach before the money ran out?

“I’m making sure my sister has a future.” The words came out defensive. “That’s not running. That’s protecting what matters.”

“And what about your future?” Thomas shifted. “Or does protecting Clara mean you don’t get one?”

The question dug under her skin like a splinter. She pulled her arms tighter around herself. “My future is tied to hers. It always has been.”

“That’s not an answer either.”

Heat flared in her chest. “You don’t know anything about me or my situation.”

“You’re right.” His voice went quiet, stripped of the defensive edge. “I don’t.”

The admission caught her off guard. She’d expected him to push back, to defend his question or deflect with more of that easy charm he’d used when they first met. Instead he just sat there across the fire, his bruised face half in shadow, waiting.

The silence stretched. Wind howled beyond their shelter, a reminder that the world outside hadn’t softened just because they’d found temporary refuge. Kate’s fingers had begun to tingle as warmth crept back into them, bringing the ache that came with thawing.

She should leave it there. Let the conversation die and retreat into the careful distance she’d maintained since stepping off that stage in Butte. Safer that way. Cleaner.

But something about the firelight and the ice walls closing them in made the words rise anyway. “My stepmother wanted Clara to marry a man old enough to be her grandfather. A widower with money and connections that would elevate our family’s standing in Columbia society.” Bitterness coated her tongue. “Never mind that he’d buried two wives already. Never mind that Clara was terrified of him.”

Thomas’s gaze stayed fixed on her face, but he didn’t interrupt. Didn’t offer meaningless platitudes about how it would have worked out or how Clara would have adjusted. Just listened.

“Then Clara saw the advertisement your family put in the newspaper.” She pulled her knees tighter to her chest. “She corresponded, and when she received the reply, she showed me. I thought it was a miracle—a way out that wouldn’t destroy her.” The memory of reading those letters rose unbidden. The careful words about faith and family, about building a life together in the mountains. “I never imagined your brothers had written them without your knowledge.”

Thomas poked at the fire again, though it didn’t need tending. “They meant well.”

“Meaning well doesn’t make it right.” She forced herself to soften her tone. “Clara traveled more than three months to marry a man who never asked for her. Do you have any idea what that does to a person? To believe you’ve been chosen, that someone wants you enough to wait for you across half a continent, only to discover it was all a lie?”

He flinched.

Good. He should feel uncomfortable. His family’s deception had consequences, whether he’d known about it or not.

“I can’t undo what they did.” His voice turned rough. “But I meant what I said in Butte. You and Clara have choices. I’ll make sure of that.”

The promise should reassure her. Instead it scraped raw against the trail of broken promises behind her.

“And what will you do?” She met his gaze across the fire. “You don’t think your brothers will try to meddle in your life again? They must have had a good reason to start with.”

Thomas’s jaw worked like he was chewing on something bitter. He stared into the flames for a long moment before answering. “I’m going to California.” He finally lifted his gaze back to her. “Was planning to leave in a fortnight, but I’ll see that you and your sister are safely on your way first.”