Page 63 of Mail-Order Viscountess

“Take this to her.” Mrs. Wang held out the tray she’d been carrying.

But when he shifted his direction to take it from her, she frowned. “Do not make dirty.”

Despite it all, he managed a tip of his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

The tray felt heavier than it should have as he dragged himself up the stairs, each step an effort that made his ribs protest.

As he moved down the hallway, the door to Clara’s room opened. He slowed when Kate stepped out.

She pulled up short when she saw him, her hazel eyes widening. He let himself take in the sight of her.

She looked tired. Dark circles shadowed her hazel eyes, and her hair—usually pinned in that neat chignon she favored—had come loose in places, dark strands falling around her face. Her dress was wrinkled, as though she’d been sitting in the same position for hours.

His insides twisted.

“Thomas.” Her voice carried relief and something else he couldn’t quite name. “You’re back.”

“Just now.” He stopped a few feet from her. He should have washed before he came upstairs. What with the dirt ground into his clothes, the week’s worth of stubble on his jaw, and his stench…she probably wanted to back away from him.

Too late to change that now.

He held out the tray. “Mrs. Wang sent this up. Is Clara all right?”

“She’s sleeping. The fever seems to be holding steady.” She reached for the tray, her fingers brushing his as she took it. Even that brief contact sent warmth up his arms. “I was just going to get more blankets. I can’t seem to get her warm.”

Her eyes swept over him again—taking in the mud caked on his boots, the exhaustion weighing down every part of him. “You look terrible.”

A laugh slipped out. “I’ve been told.”

But she didn’t smile. Instead, she stepped closer, and her hand rose as though she might touch his face. Then she caught herself and let it fall. “Did it go well? The rescue?”

A new rush of frustration surged. “We saved fifteen head. Lost three.”

“Oh.” Something flicked across her expression. Understanding, maybe. Or sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” He tried to keep his voice light, but bitterness crept in anyway. “Might have saved them all if we’d taken them out the back way. But what do I know?”

Kate’s eyes sharpened. That look she got when she was reading past his words to the truth underneath. “Thomas⁠—

“I need to talk to you, Kate.”

Her brows rose. “About?”

He inhaled a breath to rein in his words. “About California.”

Her face went pale. “What about it?”

“I’m going.” Maybe he shouldn’t have been so abrupt.

He worked to soften his tone. “I can’t stay here anymore. Not like this. Not when they—” He broke off, swallowing back the tide that rose too strong. “I’m done being treated like I don’t know anything. Like my ideas don’t matter because I’m the youngest.”

Kate’s lips parted, but no sound emerged.

“We lost three cattle out there.” He couldn’t get the edge in his voice to ease. “Three animals that might have lived if they’d just listened to me about that trail. But no. Thomas is reckless. Thomas takes too many risks.” He laughed, the sound harsh in the quiet hallway. “I’m so tired of proving myself to people who’ve already decided I’m not worth hearing.”

“Thomas—”

“I want you and Clara to come with me.” He refocused on her face…one that seemed to be going paler with each breath.