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stubborn streak as strong as the mule and refused to be held any longer. The pair of men only nudged one another on the shoulder, passing a silver flask back and forth between them.
    She set Grace down, only to have to give chase as she zig-zagged on her tiny legs before gaining speed and dashing straight toward an oncoming cart. Clara scooped up the girl and retreated to the shade of the building, throwing her head back as Grace screamed and the children continued to terrorize the small village.
    “Enough,” Clara said quietly. “Everyone, stop. This is enough madness.” To her surprise, the group halted. She avoided the looks of those on the street, keeping her eyes fixed to the ground. Gaining notice wouldn’t help if she were to make a successful escape. “That is not how you behave in public, Master James and Miss Minnie. It is unacceptable. Behave yourselves or you will go without dinner.”
    She did not know why she made such a threat, having been on the receiving end of just that for most of her childhood. She hadn’t even done anything wrong to upset her grandparents. They just preferred to keep her locked away, best forgotten for the sin that she was. She was fed and washed at their inclination.
    Mr. Ravensdale raised his eyebrows at her threat, only bowing his head to her when she lifted her shoulders and set Grace back on the ground, this time clutching onto the small girl’s sleeve. Mr. Barnes ignored everything and reached into his coat, handing Minnie and James sweets.
    “You’re going to reward them?” she asked Mr. Barnes. “They should be able to walk through the village as everyone else. Quietly. And without fuss.”
    He tossed Clara a piece of candy with a grin, then turned his back to her, jumping into the air and clicking his heels together.
    The candy dropped at her feet, its shinny wrapper a small reflection of disappointment as she picked it up and stashed it away her in dress pocket. She followed Mr. Ravensdale as he led the others to a stable with several horses out front. A hunched-over man walked them about in circles for a few onlookers.
    Clara called the children closer as a fine brown gelding shot to its back feet, kicking its front hooves in the air with an aggravated whinny. The sun struck its deep mahogany coat and its flank suddenly blazed gold.
    “How much for him, Mr. Sullivan?” Mr. Ravensdale asked, reaching into his coat pocket.
    She was struck by the way he examined the horse with only his eyes, the way he tilted his head and peeled back the mysteries of the animal. To everyone looking on, Clara assumed Mr. Ravensdale appeared mad being interested in the one horse who wasn’t broken in. But he possessed confidence as no one she had ever met before.
    “He’s not for sale if he’s going to a Ravensdale,” the old man replied.
    “I’ll pay you twice what you want for him. He’ll be well looked after.”
    “Sure he will.” A chorus of snide snickers echoed throughout the onlookers. “Like the Ravensdales have looked after the village, no doubt, or Burton Hall. Such a fine promise that is, boy.”
    Mr. Ravensdale clenched this fists and strode up to lay a hand on the gelding. The horse calmed, but Mr. Ravensdale did not.
    “Why are they fighting?” Minnie asked Clara. She could only respond by shaking her head, hushing both the children once more.
    “Well, I guess it’s fair to mention the horse is for my stables,” Mr. Barnes interrupted. He strode up next, whispering to the man and pulling out a wad of folded bills.
    It was quick business after that. Whatever words were exchanged between the seller and Mr. Barnes held no significance to Mr. Ravensdale. He ran his hand down the animal’s flank, then each leg, and examined the hooves, before marching ahead of the others, leaving Mr. Barnes to settle up.
    Clara was not deaf to the whispers that had followed him all day, but Mr. Ravensdale’s past—no matter how repugnant—was no concern of hers. Her position