Neville let himself into the pen and coaxed Betty back into her rope halter. She was covered in a thick layer of mud. She needed to be sponged off with a bucket of warm water. A time-consuming process. And he hadn’t any time to spare.

But there was no shirking his duties.

He led Betty back into the stables, Firefly at her side. Clara was seated on the mounting block. She’d removed her wet cloak, bonnet, and gloves, but she was still shivering. And he could see why. The rain had seeped through her cloak to soak into the bodice and skirts of her gray woolen dress. It was covered in dark, wet patches.

“Stay there,” he said as he led Betty past her.

Clara didn’t argue. Her teeth were chattering too much to speak.

He put Betty and Firefly away in their loose box, leaving them with some fresh hay to tide them over until his return. And then he went to collect Clara. “Come with me.”

She stood. “Where?”

“I have rooms upstairs.”

“Oh…I couldn’t.” She hung back. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

“It’s all right.” He put a hand on her back to coax her forward. She was trembling beneath his touch. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the cold or because of him. “I’ll light a fire. We can k-keep the…the door open.”

Clara didn’t look entirely convinced at the wisdom of such a thing. She nevertheless permitted him to escort her up the single flight of creaking wooden stairs behind the feed room. It led to a small landing in front of a closed door.

He opened it and ushered her inside.

Hugging herself with her arms, she looked about the room, examining the worn wingback chairs, old mahogany wardrobe, and metal bedstead. Her gaze lingered on the mattress with its heavy quilt and pillows. She bit her lip. “This isn’t at all—”

“Here.” He guided her to one of the chairs near the cold hearth. “Sit down.”

Again, she did as he bid her, albeit reluctantly, perching on the very edge of the seat, as if she might spring up at any moment and bolt from the room. She was silent as he made up the fire and stoked it to a roaring flame. When he turned again to look at her, some of the color was back in her cheeks.

“Will you stay here?” he asked. “While I t-tend to Betty?”

“Are you going to bathe her?”

He shook his head. “I’ll sponge her d-down. And…I n-need to wrap her leg.”

“I can’t wait long. I’ve already been gone over an hour. Mrs. Bainbridge—”