She Loved a Poor Gardener—Then Discovered He Was the Heir to a Fortune
Chapter 2
Thomas had a strange habit.
Whenever Clara brought him food, he thanked her but rarely ate it immediately.
One afternoon she finally asked why.
“You don’t like Mrs. Finch’s pies?”
“I like them.”
“Then why do you save them?”
Thomas smiled.
“There are people in the village who need food more than I do.”
Clara frowned.
“You can’t feed everyone.”
“No.”
He looked toward the distant cottages.
“But I can feed one person.”
That answer stayed with her.
Thomas seemed to possess very little.
Yet somehow, he was always giving something away.
A coat.
A meal.
A day’s wages.
Once, Clara found him repairing the roof of an old widow’s cottage.
“You’ll be working until midnight.”
“Then I’ll finish tomorrow.”
“You could have hired someone.”
She knew he couldn’t afford it.
Thomas smiled.
“I couldn’t afford not to help.”
Clara shook her head.
“You make no sense.”
“Perhaps.”
He returned to the roof.
She stayed below, holding the ladder.
That was how their friendship grew.
Quietly.
Without either of them naming it.
But not everyone approved.
Lord Blackwood’s nephew, Edward, noticed.
He was twenty-eight, wealthy, educated, and convinced Clara should eventually marry him.
One afternoon he found her sitting beside Thomas beneath an apple tree.
Edward stopped.
“You cannot be serious.”
Clara stood.
“About what?”
“About wasting your time with him.”
Thomas remained silent.
Edward looked him over.
“A gardener.”
Thomas slowly rose.
“I know what I am.”
Edward laughed.
“Do you?”
Clara stepped between them.
“Enough.”
Edward’s face hardened.
“You’ll regret embarrassing yourself.”
Clara watched him leave.
Thomas looked at her.
“You shouldn’t defend me.”
“Why?”
“Because people like him can make trouble.”
“So let him.”
Thomas looked away.
“You don’t know what trouble looks like.”
She studied him.
“Neither do you.”
He smiled faintly.
“Perhaps I know it better than you think.”
That night, Clara discovered a small wooden box hidden beneath the bench where Thomas often worked.
Inside was a single silver signet ring.
She picked it up.
An unfamiliar crest was carved into the metal.
Before she could examine it, Thomas appeared.
He took the ring from her hand.
His expression changed.
“Where did you find this?”
“Here.”
He closed his fingers around it.
“Please don’t ask.”
Clara stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because someday I may have to tell you.”
“About the ring?”
“About everything.”
