He returned to his broom and began sweeping the floor with more vigor than the job demanded. The set look on his face told her his mind was made up. Trying to convince him otherwise would be a waste of time.

Whirling around to leave, she thought of something and stopped. “I shared some things in my letter that I would prefer no one else in town knew.” She glanced back over her shoulder with a beseeching look. She’d not told him everything, but enough that an enterprising person might be able to figure out the rest.

The broom stilled in his hands. “What thangs?” he asked.

“About my uncle being a businessman.” Since marriage was now out of the question, she hoped to land a job as a governess. If word of the scandal got out, no one would hire her. “I don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

He stared at her with furrowed brow. “Not sure I understand, ma’am.”

She debated how much or how little to say. “They might think I have no need for a job.”

His gaze traveled from the tip of her fancy hat all the way down to the hem of her tailored skirt. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“I’m truly sorry for the way things turned out,” she said and meant it. She could hardly blame him for feeling the way he did.

She glanced around the shop. It was modest by Boston standards, but glass vials were lined neatly on the shelves behind the counter and sundries carefully arranged. “You have a fine place here, and I think you would have made a fine husband.”

Since there was nothing more to be said, she left. Walking along the boardwalk, she felt as if all eyes were upon her. Feeling like Hester Prynne in The Scarlet Letter, she imagined a sign hanging over her head reading, Disgraced. She could almost hear the wind whispering in her ear. For shame.

* * *

The moment Chase spotted his fence rider galloping toward him like a bat out of hell, he knew there was trouble. As owner of one of the largest cattle ranches in the Hill Country, he had trouble imagining a day without some sort of problem, but the rider’s haste suggested this was more serious than a distressed cow or stuck calf.

Chase stepped off the veranda to greet his man. He was in no mood to deal with yet another crisis. Not today. Not when his mind was on other things—like how to save the ranch.

For all he knew, the judge had already granted an annulment. At least Miss Emily Rose would have gotten what she wanted. If that were true, then the ranch belonged to Royce. Or would.

Billy Wilder pulled his horse to a quick stop in front of him. At age twenty, he was the youngest cowhand. As such, he was given the thankless job of riding the fences. He was the most reticent man Chase had ever met and doled out words like they were pieces of gold to be given out sparingly. The other cowhands jokingly called him Gabby.