“Weel, hot damn, Ballard, she isnae the sort of lass to be taking back to Kentucky.”
“Then what do ye think she is letting me court her for, eh?”
“How the hell should I ken what the lass is playing at?”
“Then ye can keep your yapping mouth shut.”
“I do not know what you need a wife for anyhow,” grumbled Lambert in a gentle, cultured English accent.
“I dinnae intend to spend another winter alone,” snapped Ballard.
“Ye are nae alone. Ye have us,” replied Shelton.
“My dear stupid brother, there are a few things a wife can give me that ye two cannae, and if ye dinnae ken what those things are, weel, I think ‘tis time we had us a long talk. But not in front of the wee lassie here.”
“Do ye ken this Miss Marsten?” Shelton asked Clover, ignoring his brother’s sarcasm.
“Er, not very well. We are neighbors though,” Clover replied.
“Of course she doesnae ken Sarah,” said Ballard. “They are nae of an age, are they?”
He was right, but Clover decided it was not the time to tell Ballard MacGregor that she was a full year older than the much-sought-after Sarah. She wondered if her obscuring cloak was what kept him from seeing that she was not a child. She also wondered whether it was her place to tell him that Sarah was already entertaining a beau, then decided it was best if she kept quiet. It was not a triangle she wished to set herself in the middle of.
“Here is my home,” she said quietly, even as they almost walked past it.
Ballard stopped and smiled at her. “Weel, now, ye best be more careful where ye go. And dinnae go out alone.”
Clover found his scolding tone vastly irritating, but she smiled. “Yes, I will, sir. Thank you again.” She hesitated, decided there was nothing more to be said, and dashed up the brick steps to the front door.
“A cute wee thing,” Ballard murmured as the door shut behind Clover, then he scowled at his companions. “I dinnae need your help to do my courting.”
“I was thinking we ought to get to ken this Sarah lass since ye are thinking of marrying her and all,” Shelton said.
“Ye will have plenty of time to ken who she is on our way back to Kentucky. Now—git.”
As soon as Shelton and Lambert had disappeared down the street, Ballard straightened his coat and headed to Sarah Marsten’s house.
“Sarah Marsten,” Clover grumbled as she hurried into the kitchen, pausing only to toss her cloak over a padded bench in the front hall. “That witch is just playing with that poor man.”
She rushed to make up two glasses of lemonade. The drink was a luxury, but the plan she had suddenly concocted required such an extravagance. She was glad of the need to hurry for it kept her from thinking too hard about her wild scheme. It was so mad that it would undoubtedly crumble beneath any real scrutiny. If she paused, she knew she would grow cautious and hesitant, and she could afford neither.
“What are you going to do with that lemonade?” demanded a young voice. “Mama said we are not allowed to have it any more.”
Clover started, whispered a curse, and turned to face her twin brothers, seven-year-old Clayton and Damien. Two more reasons that she could not swerve from her impulsive plan, she thought, then sighed and answered Clayton’s question. “Yes, ‘tis very precious, but I have a real need for it now. You see, I have a plan and this could help. It is the best hospitality we can offer just now and ‘tis very important that I offer the best.”
“Are you getting us a new house?” asked Damien.
“Just possibly, dear. Just possibly. I cannot say for certain yet. ‘Tis still only a plan.”
She picked up the glasses of lemonade and started back toward the front door, the twins following her. Damien opened the door for her, but as she was about to step outside, her mother entered the hallway. Clover groaned. She did not have time for all these interruptions. She was certain that Ballard MacGregor would not be staying at Sarah’s very long, and she must be out on the steps when he left the Marsten house.
“Where are you going with that lemonade?” asked her mother.
“She had a plan, Mama,” Clayton answered.
“Oh, wonderful.” Agnes clapped her hands together. “Then I was right. Thomas did—”
“Thomas did nothing except get angry and rush off. You see, he was nearly late to court Sarah Marsten. Now, Mama, I cannot talk,” she said in a gentler tone, for her news about Thomas had clearly shockedher mother. “I must get back outside. Please, just trust me. All right?”
