His very elegance unsettled her. Though she’d known well-dressed people in America, Mr. Clayton had an aura of sophistication unlike any man of her acquaintance. In these close confines, he seemed larger and more masculine than ever. What did she really know of him beyond his name? Yes, he’d helped her find Leo, but was one good deed sufficient for her to place her trust in the man? Was it wise to put herself and Leo at risk?

She shook off her gothic misgivings. Clearly, he was not seeking to abduct them for some nefarious purpose. He was a well-mannered gentleman who wished to give aid to two stranded travelers. There was nothing more to it. And she had to admit it was nice to accept his help after handling matters alone for so many months.

As he sat down opposite them, Natalie was glad that she’d taken the time to tidy the boy, coaxing him into his best Sunday clothes and scrubbing the mud off his shoes. Since her hem had been badly soiled, an equal effort had been paid to her own appearance. Her best plum silk gown might not be up to the fashion standards of England, but she was quite pleased with the dramatic way it enhanced the green of her eyes. Luckily, she’d recently refurbished her bonnet with cream ribbons to coordinate with her slate-gray cloak. Between dressing and packing and settling their bill, she’d scarcely had time to grab a quick breakfast and gulp a cup of tea.

As the footman began to close the door, a white-haired gent in a black suit came hurrying up. She recognized him as the cantankerous servant who had been in the private parlor earlier.

“What is it, Chumley?” Mr. Clayton asked.

Chumley? This man was the valet, she realized in chagrin. Heaven help her, he was the one given the task of cleaning that muddy coat? Without a doubt, he would bear a grudge against her for causing him extra work.

Chumley’s upper lip curled as he flicked a glance at Natalie and Leo. Then he bowed to his master. “Your Grace, as you’ve paperwork from Parliament to read, may I mention there is room aplenty for these persons in the baggage coach. I will happily surrender my own seat to them.”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”

Natalie was discomfited to think they were a bother. “If we are inconveniencing you in any way, sir—”

“Absolutely not,” Mr. Clayton said crisply. “The matter is already settled. Now we’d best be on our way.”

That last remark was addressed to Chumley, who bowed again and retreated, though not before flashing Natalie a suspicious stare. Her skin prickled from the force of his disapproval. She remembered him griping about a bevy of girls coming to the parlor to bat their eyelashes at his master.

Chumley must view her as a flirt casting out her lures, although nothing could be more absurd.

The door closed and the post chaise began moving, leaving the inn yard for the open countryside. Though the road was rutted, the vehicle was smoother and better sprung than any ride in her experience. Yet she couldn’t relax with her mind awhirl with perplexing thoughts.