Chapter Eleven
“Well? What do you think?” Clover carefully spun around in front of Ballard.
She had altered one of her better gowns, removing some of the expensive lace and silk ribbons for a simpler style. The last thing she wanted was to attend the revel dressed better than anyone else. The men would probably not notice, but the women might resent her if she arrived decked from head to toe in her best finery. It would be the surest way to start her relationship with her neighbors on the wrong foot. After a little over six weeks in Kentucky, she had no intention of ruining her first real chance to make some new friends.
But Ballard, studying her, was suddenly not sure he wanted to take her to the spring revel. Every man there would be after her. Her blue-green gown complemented both her fair coloring and her slim figure, and her breasts swelled gently above the low neckline. Her thick golden hair hung loose down her back, the sides tied with ribbons that matched her gown. She looked beautiful. So beautiful thathe had to fight an urge to keep her hidden away at home.
“Ye look lovely, Clover.” He kissed her palm and led her out of the room. “I will be beating the lads off ye all night.”
Clover laughed and grabbed her cloak from the wall hook. “I was thinking much the same about you in your fine courting clothes.”
“That ye will have to beat the lads off me?”
“Wretch.” She gently punched his arm. “The lasses, of course. You will draw them like bees to honey.”
Everyone was waiting on the veranda for them. Even Adam Dunstan was freshly shaved and dressed in his best homespun shirt and pants. Clover realized that such occasions for socializing were probably rare and thus were attended by everyone who could walk, ride, or crawl.
She sat beside Ballard on the wagon seat, with everyone else in back, except for Shelton, who rode his horse beside them. “Are you sure ‘twill be safe to return in the dark?” she asked.
“Aye. ‘Tis a full moon,” Ballard replied. “The road will be lit enough for us. Some folk will spend the night, but the accommodations are rough. Shelton will ride in front of us to lead the way.” He patted her knee, grinning when she blushed and carefully removed his hand. “Dinnae fret over it, lass. Just have a good time.”
“I intend to.”
When Ballard pulled their wagon up in front of the church and Clover saw all the people who had already arrived, she hoped she could stick to her resolve to enjoy herself. Whole families made their way into the church, each dressed in different degrees offinery, from clean homespun to calico with lace trim. Clover was heartily glad she had not worn her finest gown. Her silks and brocades would have been glaringly out of place.
Inside the hall, Clover helped Molly and her mother set out the food they had brought on the large table placed at one end. Molly had made apple cake and scones. Clover had baked two loaves of bread and made a small pot of blackberry jam, the last with Molly’s help.
Agnes sought out Mabel Clemmons in a corner, immediately starting a conversation. Clover was glad her mother had found a companion, but she was a little surprised it was Mabel, whose rough, outspoken ways were so different from Agnes’s refined manners.
The fiddlers struck up a tune and Ballard tugged Clover onto the floor for a rowdy country dance. She was quickly caught up in a dizzying round of lively dancing and unending introductions. She doubted she would ever remember all the names and faces paraded before her. When Ballard became immersed in a discussion on horse breeding with a balding man named Chester Tuttle, Clover slipped away to fill a plate with food and, seeing that Mabel was now alone, went to join the woman. Before she could begin a conversation, however, her mother returned and sat down next to her.
“Where were you?” she asked her mother.
“I needed a moment of privacy,” Agnes replied, blushing faintly.
“Oh. And where can that be found? I might need a little privacy myself before the evening is ended.”
“Out back.”
“Well, I be damned,” said Mabel, looking across the room. “There be Colin Doogan and his brood.”
Clover was just looking toward the group Mabel had pointed out when she heard a thud. She turned to see her mother lying sprawled on the floor. Just as Clover hurried to see what ailed her, several women rushed over to help. Molly pushed her way through the women and knelt on the other side of Agnes. A moment later Ballard, Lambert, Shelton, and the twins huddled around them as well.
“Does she do this often?” asked Mabel, staring down at the unconscious Agnes. “She will be causing herself an injury.”
“I have seen her swoon only once,” said Lambert, “and I have known her for nearly two months. She collapsed when Clover said she was marrying Ballard and they were all coming to Kentucky.”
Mabel laughed and Clover shot her a brief look of mild annoyance. She cushioned her mother’s head in her lap as she and Molly tried to rouse her. Just as Agnes began to stir, a shadow crossed over them, and Clover looked up to see the man whom Mabel had identified as Colin Doogan staring down at them, his face pale and his gaze fixed firmly on Agnes.
Clover saw at once that Colin Doogan was a dangerously attractive man. She heard Molly whisper “Black Irish” and nodded in agreement. His hair was glossy black with a touch of white at the temples, and he had the bluest eyes she had ever seen.
“Agnes McGillicuddy?” he said, his voice soft and hoarse.
“McGillicuddy?” Molly looked at Clover. “You are Irish?”
“Mama’s father was. He died before I was born.” She frowned at Colin Doogan. “Do you know my mother, sir?” Clover’s heart pounded faster as she suddenly recalled the story her mother had told her on the day before her wedding, of a certain man named Colin whom she had known before she married Clayton Sherwood.
“I knew her many years ago when she was newly engaged to some young lad named Sherwood,” Colin Doogan replied.
