Thomas ran his hand over the stallion’s taut, strong flank. “Grendall, my man, I had no idea you had such fine horseflesh in your stables.”
“He is not in my stables yet. Mr. MacGregor and I are just now discussing my purchasing the beast.”
Ballard gave Thomas a cold smile when the man finally looked at him. He realized he neither liked nor trusted Thomas Dillingsworth, and not simply because of the way the man had treated Clover. Something about Thomas made him uneasy, put him immediately on his guard.
“So this stallion is for sale, is he?” Thomas abruptly offered a price twice what Mr. Grendall had offered. “I can have the coin for you within the hour.”
It was easy to see from the look on Grendall’s face that he could not meet such a price. Although the money was tempting, Ballard had no intention of accepting, partly out of perversity and partly because his instincts told him it would be an ill-advised move. The stallion kept shifting away from Thomas’s touch, and Ballard knew he should not ignore the animal’s instincts any more than he should ignore his own.
“I cannae accept, Dillingsworth,” Ballard said, carefully noting the fury that hardened Thomas’s features. “Me and Mr. Grendall have as good as shaken on the deal.”
“He cannot match my offer.”
“True. And I willnae ask him to. I posted my intention to sell these beasts when I came to town three days ago. Ye should have approached me sooner.”
“I see.” Thomas stepped away from the stallion, which immediately ceased its restless movements. “This is not to my liking. I must advise you that it is not good business to refuse my generous offer.”
“‘Tisnae good business to back out of a deal just because another mon waves a wee bit more coin in my face.”
“You may soon change your mind.”
Thomas turned and disappeared into the stables. Before Ballard could remark on the brief but tense confrontation, Thomas emerged driving his carriage. Ballard and Grendall had to scramble out of the way or be run down as Thomas slapped his team into a gallop and sped toward them.
“Are ye all right, sir?” Ballard asked Grendall as the older man brushed off the dust kicked up by Thomas’s carriage. “The mon is mad,” he grumbled as he soothed the agitated stallion.
“There is a chance that he is,” murmured Grendall.
Ballard frowned. “I thought he was one of the leading citizens of the town.”
Mr. Grendall smiled faintly. “He is. His father helped build this town and Thomas inherited a goodly part of the waterfront. Such power makes most people overlook his, er, quirks. When Thomas says he is displeased, one should take note. It has been that way since he was a small boy.”
“Yet ye do nothing?”
“As I said, he still has power, although his wealth is somewhat in doubt now. Bad investments, you see. ‘Tis why he is ready to wed Sarah Marsten, despite the fact that everyone save her doting if neglectful parents knows she is little better than a whore. Theman has a vicious streak in him, Mr. MacGregor. Perhaps you should rethink his offer.”
“Nay. I was ready to accept yours and I willnae change my mind. I dinnae intend to linger in this town long. I doubt Dillingsworth can do me much harm.”
The look on Grendall’s face told Ballard he was being naive, but the older man said no more. Ballard accepted Grendall’s offer for the stallion and the two mares. They arranged for Ballard to bring the horses to Grendall’s home on the west side of town in the morning, when he would collect his money. As Ballard returned his animals to the stables, he wondered just how much he should worry about Thomas’s veiled threats.
Clover started toward the kitchen, intending to tell Molly that she should serve the meal now and not wait any longer for the men. She was only a few steps from the kitchen door when the front door slammed open. Shelton and Lambert stumbled in and, as she neared them, she caught the strong scent of ale. Right behind them came Ballard, who appeared to be sober but was covered in dust and mud, his fine courting clothes badly disarranged.
“Sorry we are a wee bit late, lass,” Ballard said as he tossed his hat on a hall table, “but I had to go and collect these two fools. Ye can serve up the food now.”
He started to usher his unsteady companions toward the dining room, but Clover quickly blocked him. “Oh no, you cannot.” She almost smiled at the startled looks on their faces. “You will go and clean up first. Your things arrived from the inn a short while ago.”
“Weel, I reckon we can wash our hands.”
“You need to wash a great deal more than your hands, Mr. MacGregor, if you intend to sit at my table.”
“But the food will be cold,” protested Shelton as he ineptly tried to straighten his disordered clothes.
“If Molly has managed to keep it edible this long, she can do so for a little while longer.” Clover saw her brothers peeking out between the parlor doors. “Boys, you can show the gentlemen their rooms and where they can wash.” She shook her head as the boys led the men away, then she hurried to the kitchen to speak to Molly.
“Why didnae ye stand your ground, Ballard?” grumbled Shelton as he made his unsteady way up the stairs.
“Why? Ye stink like a dockside tavern and I smell like horses. I wouldnae want to sit to table with us either. A little water willnae kill us. This is one of them lessons in manners we need to learn.”
“I think I prefer ignorance and a full belly.”
