“I should like to see you try, sir.”

The next morning Clara emerged from her room to find that the establishment had grown significantly more crowded. She hadn’t any idea why. Some of the students returning to Cambridge after their holidays, she supposed. Indeed, most of the guests at the inn appeared to be single young gentleman. She’d never felt so conspicuous. As she sat down to take her breakfast in the public dining room, it seemed as though every eye was upon her.

She finished her cup of tea and ate the last bite of her toast, hardly tasting either of them. Mr. Trent had said that Simon would be back in Cambridge first thing in the morning. And it was already half nine.

As she exited the dining room in search of the tavern keeper’s wife, the murmur of masculine voices followed, setting her already frayed nerves a-jangle. What she needed was a brisk walk and some fresh air to clear her head. She refused to meet her brother in a state of abject emotion.

She found the tavern keeper’s wife in the taproom, wiping down the high, polished wood counter with a dirty cloth. Clara caught her gaze as she approached. “I beg your pardon, ma’am. I’m expecting my brother this morning. If he arrives while I’m out, will you tell him I’ve gone for a short walk and will be back by ten o’clock?”

“Aye, miss. Will you be needing anything else? I can fetch you a hot coal to warm your hands.”

“No, thank you.” Clara didn’t possess a handwarmer. Gloves would have to suffice. She fetched them from her room, along with her cloak and bonnet, and made her way out onto the street.

It had snowed during the night, blanketing Cambridge in a light dusting of sparkling white, as pristine as powdered sugar. She walked briskly through it, eyes straight ahead, in the direction of Magdalene College.

There were other people about. Working folk going about their day. A woman at a storefront bid her good morning, and Clara replied in turn. But she wasn’t interested in shopping, or even in admiring the view of the university. It was exercise she required.

Glancing to the right and left of her, she crossed the road. She’d gone no more than a few steps when a gentleman walking equally briskly in the opposite direction nearly collided with her.

He caught at her arm, bringing them both to a stumbling halt. “Clara!”

She looked up at the young fellow with a start. He was tall and thin, with floppy blond hair that fell over his forehead, and the same limpid brown eyes as her own. “Simon!” A breath of relief gusted out of her. “Goodness’ sake. What are you doing here?”

“I’m on my way to see you. Trent said you were staying at the Bell and Swan.”