The very man who stood before her.

Natalie blew out a breath. “I suppose you’re right. I must have forgotten, so I’ve only myself to blame—” She checked herself in mid-sentence, noticing for the first time the large smear of mud on the lower section of his otherwise pristine blue coat. “Oh no! That must be from Leo’s shoes.”

Mr. Clayton glanced down with a wry look. “So it would seem.”

“Forgive me. I ought never to have required you to carry him. Will you allow me to clean the coat for you?”

It was the least she could do after the way he’d helped her. If she could cadge a cake of soap from the innkeeper and sponge the stain very carefully, perhaps the fine garment needn’t be ruined.

“That won’t be necessary. Chumley will see to it.” At her inquiring look, Mr. Clayton added, “My valet. In truth, he’d be irate if I allowed anyone else to interfere with my wardrobe.”

Mr. Clayton traveled with a valet as well as a footman and groom? Of course he did. He appeared to be a wealthy, influential man—which made it all the more surprising that he’d offered to assist her.

She regretted that it was time for them to part ways, that there would be no more opportunity to satisfy her burning curiosity about him. He intrigued her in a way no man had ever done. “Then I can only apologize once more. And I must thank you, Mr. Clayton, for your aid in finding Leo. It was very good of you to do so.”

Natalie flashed him a warm smile. He had been kind despite her initial mistrust of him. He had voluntarily searched the stables, chased after Leo, and in the bargain had given the boy a stern talking-to about proper behavior.

She had repaid the man by ruining his coat. The situation was rather mortifying, especially when she faced those inscrutable granite eyes. Perhaps the best way to express her gratitude was to remove herself—and Leo—from his presence.

“I wish you safe travels, sir. Good-bye.” Turning away, she spied the boy standing at the corner of the inn, clutching his toy ship while watching the grooms in the stable yard. “Leo, come along now. I’ll have to find another way to get us to Whitnash. And pray remove your muddy shoes before we go inside.”

She needed to figure out what to do now that they’d missed the mail coach. The distance wasn’t terribly far—only a dozen miles or so—but it might as well be across the ocean. Although fond of walking back home, she had two valises to carry and a little boy to shepherd. Between the muddy roads and the chill in the air, proceeding on foot would not make for a pleasant journey when Leo must already be tired from his aborted attempt at escape.

Perhaps she could spare a bit of her coin to hire a carriage or a local farmer with a dray. The innkeeper might have some recommendations.