Chapter Seventeen
Something was wrong. It had been over a fortnight since her rescue from Thomas, and Ballard had been acting strangely every one of those sixteen days.
At times he was almost desperately attentive. The first night they had been well enough to make love, and every night since then, there had been a ferocity to his lovemaking. Although it thrilled her, its cause worried her. At other times he seemed to be drawing away from her, trying to put some distance between them. His words had a rough edge; his behavior was sometimes surly. He had never been a moody man before and she was at a loss to explain what was ailing him now.
In addition, he seemed to be encouraging her to spend time alone with Theodore Potsdam. The young man had called on them a couple of times right after the rescue, to see how they were mending. Clover appreciated his concern and enjoyed his company, but she was baffled by her husband’s refusal to stay and socialize. Instead, he always left them alone together on one pretext or another, and even urgedTheodore to stay longer and return again soon. Ballard had never been a particularly possessive man, but he seemed to be encouraging a relationship that might once have aroused his jealousy. It was almost as if he wanted Clover to develop an emotional attachment to Theodore!
Now, as she stood on the front veranda and waved good-bye to her family, who were all headed off in various directions, she decided to confront Ballard.
Molly was with Jonathan. Agnes and the twins would be spending the day with the Doogans. Shelton, Lambert, and Willie were on the way to Cyril’s to deliver the yearling the man had bought. Even Adam was gone, off to court the blacksmith’s widow. For once she and Ballard were completely alone.
For a while she busied herself in the kitchen, hoping Ballard would seek her out. He had always done so before when they had been blessed with a rare moment of privacy. But when there was no sign of him after an hour, Clover knew she would have to take the first step.
She was just putting her apron away, intending to go and look for him, when Theodore Potsdam knocked on the open door and strolled into the house. “Hello, Theodore,” she greeted him. “Where is Ballard? Did you see him outside?”
“He told me to come on in and keep you company. He has a lot of work to do.”
“Does he.”
Clover absently waved him toward a seat at the kitchen table and put the kettle on the fire. She leaned against the sink and studied Theodore. He was a handsome young man with thick fair hair and a pleasing face. Again it struck her as odd thather husband was allowing such a man to run free in his home.
“Have I grown a wart?” asked Theodore.
She smiled and shook her head. “No. I was just thinking that something very odd is going on with Ballard. Do you feel that something is—well—not quite right with him?” She set the teapot on the table, spooned tea leaves into it, and filled it with boiling water.
“Odd? How so?” Theodore’s eyes twinkled with amusement and understanding. “I thought every husband allowed his wife to spend hours alone with another man.”
She set his teacup in front of him with a clink and gave him a mildly reproving look. “How droll. I think I may have a real problem here, Theo.”
“Pour us the tea and sit yourself down. I began to think you would never mention it or, worse, would play the martyr and bear all of Ballard’s recent slights in tortured silence. ‘Tis one reason I have been visiting with such annoying regularity. I thought you might need someone to talk to.”
She poured the tea and sat opposite him. “I have plenty of people to talk to.”
“True, but they have not noticed anythingodd,have they? And I suspect you do not wish to intrude on Molly’s or your mother’s happiness just now. So that leaves me—your newest and dearest friend.”
“You can be very irritating when you try.”
He grinned. “And often when I make no effort at all.” He grew serious and reached across the table to pat her hand. “We may not have known each other for very long, but I consider you and that big Scot my friends. I do not like to see this trouble between you.”
She sighed. “I do not like to see it either. What is worse, I do not know its cause. It started after I was rescued yet again.” She started to sip her tea and abruptly stopped. “No, Ballard began to act oddly right after the dinner at your father’s home. Yet that does not make sense. It was a lovely evening.”
“Did he say anything?”
“Not much. He kept asking me if I liked your house, wanted to know if it reminded me of my old home in Langleyville. Why are you smiling?”
“Just amused that a man as smart as Ballard can be such an idiot.”
“You are not being very helpful.”
He took a scone from a plate on the table. “Since I first began to notice that there was a problem between the two of you, I have given the matter a great deal of thought. Clover, you and Ballard come from very different backgrounds.”
“That does not matter.”
“No, it does not matter toyouat all. It is one of the things that makes you so endearing. But such things can matter a great deal to a man. All men like to think they can give their wives everything they need or want. It is possible that the evening you spent at my home reminded Ballard of all that you used to have. I suspect I did not help much by talking about the theater and the opera and such. Right now I suspect Ballard is doing the noble thing—he means to set you free. In fact, I believe he is trying to match us up.”
“You may leave now.”
Theodore choked on the last bite of his scone and quickly washed it down with a large gulp of tea. “Pardon?”
