Free Little Love Affair (Southern Romance Series, #1) by Lexy Timms

injured,” Clara explained. “He’s too proud to come in himself, as he hasn’t the money, but I fear the wound is going bad. They tell me he has a fever, and willow bark won’t bring it down.”
    “Let me mix something up for you.” The pharmacist smiled at her. “You’re a good woman to look out for your workers, Miss Dalton. Truly your father’s daughter.”
    Clara tried to smile as the man began pulling jars down from the wall. She watched as he began to grind and mix materials and tried not to think of how ashamed her father would be by what she was doing. The family had so little money, and this was how she was using it. He would be furious.
    Or would he? For the first time, she felt a stab of hope. Her father had never been much of a one for talking. What did she know of what went on behind his solemn demeanor? Perhaps he too would have taken pity on two men who offered no violence and only wanted to work for their keep.
    “Miss Dalton?”
    “Mmm?” Clara realized that she had been staring off into space. “I apologize.”
    “No matter. You look a bit flushed from the sun. Take as long as you wish in the shop.” Mr. Jeffries patted a package at his side. “That’ll be two cents.”
    Clara accepted the package with a smile, but she wanted to duck her head in shame. The price was far too low for what was in the package, she was sure of it. Only Mr. Jeffries’s open smile kept her from running out of the shop. Perhaps it was kindness to the farm worker, she thought miserably. Or perhaps, her mind whispered, everyone in town truly did know how poorly the farm was doing. She had come into the shop dressed like a maid.
    However, she could not run. She did not have enough wealth for pride any longer. She smiled and thanked him, sliding the money across the counter as though all was well.
    Out in the sunshine, she considered the produce in the back of the cart. She had no need of the funds any longer, but she should bring it to the market nonetheless; a few more pence in the jar would not go amiss. She placed the package neatly in the back seat and was just climbing up when a voice stopped her.
    “Clara? Clara Dalton?”
    Clara turned and gave a delighted laugh.
    “Johnny Benson! Oh, it’s good to see you. Oh, you look so solemn. It’s been...” The words died on her lips. Johnny’s face was screwed up with pity, and Clara remembered, suddenly, exactly where she had seen him last: marching out of town at Solomon’s side. Johnny’s coat was faded and patched, and his face was thinner than she remembered, but he was standing here, back again. There was pity in his eyes.
    She knew very clearly what that meant.
    “Clara?”
    The words seemed to be coming from very far away. Clara felt a hand wrapped around her waist, another wrapped around her own fingers, and she was leaning against this man in the middle of the street.
    “Is...do you have...” It took every ounce of control she had to stand on her two feet and draw herself up. She met his eyes, wide and horrified. “Do you have his body with you?”
    “No.” He was looking at her warily, unnerved by her sudden attempt at composure. “We didn’t want to send a letter until we knew what had happened to him.”
    “And?” She could not bear to know, and yet she had to or she would go mad.
    “We still don’t. I am so sorry. Miss Dalton...” He took the hat from his head and twisted it in his hands, retreating into formality. “We looked and looked. I knew you would want to know. But we never found him, and when they told us who they had for prisoners... I don’t know if he gave them a false name. They demanded money sometimes, and he would never want you to have to—”
    “I see.” Clara turned away, hope and grief tearing at her chest. Solomon could still be alive, and yet, for the very first time, she truly believed that she would never see her brother again. “Thank you for telling me.”
    “Miss Dalton, could I perhaps accompany you