Hannah Howell (3 page)

For one brief moment she felt the sharpness of renewed grief over the loss of her father. He had been
a good man. Their home had been a happy one. She would miss that happiness more than she would ever miss the money and the comforts it had bought.

It made Clover feel somewhat guilty, but she wished her mother were stronger. She loved her mother, thought she was a dear, sweet woman, but Agnes Sherwood had no idea how to take care of herself. Unfortunately, that was exactly what they all so desperately needed to know now. Clover prayed she could solve their difficulties before she began to resent her mother for her dependence on Clover, as she had depended on her husband.

Cursing softly, Clover suddenly wondered if she was any more independent than her mother. After all, she was busily trying to find a man to solve their problems. No, she decided, that was not exactly what she was going to do. She was not looking for a man to take over all her responsibilities, just someone to share them with her. What she sought was a partner, not a master.

Suddenly the heavy, ornately carved door of the Marsten house was flung open. Clover tensed and nervously smoothed the skirt of her blue gown. She tensed even more when an easily recognizable tall, lean man strode out onto the street. Picking up the glasses of lemonade, she quickly stood up, ready to stop his angry retreat. She found herself thinking that Sarah Marsten was an utter fool, then wondered why, for she did not know Ballard MacGregor at all.

“Mr. MacGregor,” she called as he marched past her house.

He stopped short and looked at her. “What are ye still doing outside, bonnie Clover?”

A little set back by his easy compliment, she heard
her voice wobble as she asked, “Would you like some lemonade?” She held out the glass.

He hesitated only a moment before stepping up to accept the drink. “Ye were waiting for me.”

She sat down again as she nodded and patted the step next to her in a silent invitation. “I thought you might like some refreshment.”

“Ye kenned I wouldnae be staying long at Miss Sarah’s. Ye kenned that someone else was there, didnae ye,” he said as he sat down.

“Yes, I did. I considered saying something earlier, but”—she shrugged—“I could not think how to say it.”

He nodded in understanding and took a swallow even as his gaze ran down the length of her form, then quickly back up to her face. He nearly choked on the tart lemonade. Slowly, carefully, he looked her over again. He rested his gaze briefly on her high breasts. They were on the small side but not too small. She had a tiny waist and gently rounded hips. He narrowed his eyes slightly and carefully studied her dainty heart-shaped face. Wide periwinkle-blue eyes with long, dark lashes were set beneath delicately arched brows. A small straight nose led to a slightly full mouth that promised to be very kissable. He looked at her thick blond hair, which was in danger of escaping the neat style she had forced it into.

“Ye are no child,” he finally said. “Ye couldnae think of a way to tell me that either, could you?”

“Ah, well, I did not see that it mattered, as ours was to be a momentary meeting.”

She covertly watched him as he sipped his drink. He was a very handsome man, she decided. Some people might consider him too tall, too slim, or too
dark, but she did not. It did not surprise her at all that Sarah Marsten had initially encouraged his attentions. His finely hewn features and deep, rich voice would attract many a woman. Clover had the feeling he was not fully aware of his good looks, however, or of how easily they could gain him, if not a wife, at least many a liaison. With a little education he could be quite the lothario, she mused.

His face fascinated her. Its lines were so cleanly drawn. A long straight nose cut its way between highboned cheeks to point to a nicely shaped mouth, the lips not too thin. Gently arched black brows topped his thickly lashed green eyes. He had a strong chin and a wide, intelligent forehead. His thick ebony hair was slowly easing free of its tidy queue. His looks perfectly suited the finery he wore, but she could see that he already found the clothes confining.

There was no denying that his appearance alone was probably responsible for putting her wild idea in her head, that and her desperate need, but she knew that was not all of it. Although she did not know him, she had already seen evidence of several positive aspects of his character in their brief but tumultuous first meeting. Ballard MacGregor could be gallant, rushing to the rescue of a woman he did not know. He could also be violent, yet if Big Jim had not attacked him, he would have been willing to avoid a battle. He could be teasing, sarcastic, and, she thought with an inner smile, he could sulk when he did not get what he wanted.

“Just how old are ye?” he asked abruptly.

“Nineteen,” she replied with a little smile.

“Ye certainly are a little bit of a thing, are nae ye?”

“Perhaps you are just oversized.”

He grinned. “I am a tall drink of water, but it doesnae change the fact that ye are a wee lass. That fellow I just met, has he been courting Miss Sarah for verra long?”

“Well, he was engaged until this morning, but he could have been calling on her before he was free.”

“What happened to the lass he was promised to?”

“She got poor, Mr. MacGregor,” she replied, fighting to keep her lingering bitterness out of her voice.

“That’s all?”

“Yes. That is all.”

“Maybe I should have bounced him around a wee bit like I was feeling inclined to do.”

His obvious outrage gave Clover some hope, but she tried not to let it grow too big. A lot of people mouthed admirable principles but balked when the time came to act on them. People were often sincere when they spoke, but reality could wreak havoc with sincerity. Since her family’s troubles had begun she had seen that proven time and time again.

At that moment Thomas and Sarah emerged from the Marsten house. Clover watched Ballard’s face harden and his eyes narrow as he watched the pair stroll by. She thought that Sarah and Thomas were being irritatingly audacious, even cruelly inconsiderate, to walk past their rejected lovers arm in arm. It was rather like rubbing salt in open wounds. The intensity of Ballard’s reaction troubled her a little.

“Did you love her?” she asked with a soft abruptness, her own audacity making her blush.

“I dinnae ken. Did ye love him?” He smiled in response to her look of surprise. “There was a hint of something in your voice when ye spoke of him that
told me ye were probably the one he had been promised to.”

“I fear I was. I was jilted only this morning. He sent me a letter. I have not had time to get beyond being very angry.”

“Aye, I reckon. I am a mite angry myself. I spent a fair bit of silver on these courting clothes.”

“You look very fine in them.”

“Thank ye, ma’am.” His lips twitched as he suppressed a smile.

“You are quite welcome,” she replied with extraordinary politeness.

He laughed softly, set down his now empty glass, and stood, his careful movements suggesting he was reluctant to leave. “I thank ye kindly for the lemonade, lass, but I really must be on my way.”

Clover felt her heart clench with panic. Their meeting was ending far too soon. She had wanted gradually to present her proposition to him. It was her plan to ease slowly into the subject of a wife and matrimony, but he was not going to give her that luxury. She frantically tried to think of what to do next, but panic made her mind go blank.

“Mr. MacGregor,” she cried when he started to move away. “Wait a moment, please.”

“Ah, ye have finally decided to ask me that question, have ye?”

“How did you know I had something I wanted to ask you?” The shock of having him guess her intentions stole some of her resolution.

“Ah, weel, ye had that air about ye, lass,” he replied as he resumed his seat by her side. “Ye are a wee bit tense, as if ye are steadying yourself for something,
but when ye didnae say anything—” He shrugged. “I decided ye must have had a change of heart.”

“No, I have not changed my mind. In truth, I
cannot
change my mind.”

“Weel, then ask me what ye wish. ‘Tis always best just to spit these things out.”

She felt that he was probably right, but the words were stuck firmly in her throat. Despite the speeches she had hurriedly rehearsed, she could think of nothing to say. The way Ballard sat there watching her with an amiable expression was not making it any easier. There was little doubt in her mind that, unless she presented her plan with the utmost care, he was going to think she was utterly mad, yet no clever words or phrases presented themselves.

The harder she thought, the worse her confusion became, until, in sheer desperation, she blurted out, “Will you marry me, Mr. MacGregor?”

Ballard blinked, then stared at her blankly for a moment. He noted a little dazedly that her soft ivory skin was now tinted a lovely rose. Finally he shook his head, but that did not dislodge the words he had just heard.

“Did ye just ask me to marry ye?” he asked cautiously, still afraid that he had misheard and would now embarrass himself.

“Yes, I did. Oh, I am dreadfully sorry,” she said, her meager courage swiftly waning. “I am doing this all wrong, terribly wrong. I had it all planned out so that I would approach the matter slowly, asking a few questions, then explaining a few things, and only then putting forth my proposition, but you started to leave sooner than I had planned. That put me into such a state of confusion and—” She stared at him, wide-eyed, when he lightly placed one long finger over her full mouth.

“Ye are getting yourself into a dither, lassie. Why dinnae ye just start all over again, doing it just as ye planned to? Ask me your questions, make all your
explanations, and we can see how it rides. Weel, what did ye want to ask me?” he prodded gently when she hesitated.

She sighed and nervously smoothed her skirts. “All right. Why did you want to marry Sarah Marsten, aside from the fact that she is very comely?”

“Weel, I did notice that first,” he admitted.

“Ye-es, I am certain you did,” she drawled.

“Also, she showed some interest and was willing to let me call on her. She is a lady and all, with learning and fine manners. I am a rough mon, I ken it, and I live a rough life, but Kentucky is getting settled. ‘Tis a state now and ‘tis becoming mighty civilized. I reckon I was looking to take some of that culture back home with me. How did ye feel about that Thomas fellow?” he asked in an abrupt change of subject.

“That can wait. I am not finished with my questions yet.”

“Fine then, ye ask me a few more. Then I shall be wanting an answer.”

Clover was about to tell him that it was none of his business how she felt about Thomas, but quickly bit back the tart words. It certainly
was
his business if he accepted her proposition. If he was to be her husband, he had every right to know all about her former beau.

“There is only one more question,” she said. “Did you think of marriage only when you saw Sarah Marsten or was the thought of marriage already in your head and she just seemed suitable?”

“I was thinking of marriage when I set out from Kentucky. This summer I will see in eight and twenty years. I have got my house built, my land’s all cleared and is producing nicely, and the horses I breed are
fetching a fair price. So now I am able to set aside some coin and spend it on more than just staying alive. Decided it was past time I had me a family.”

“Are there no women in Kentucky to choose from?”

“Few who are nae already married or are old enough. A mon comes out to Kentucky to make a start. He might bring his wife with him, but many come out alone, just as I did. They want to get settled some before they start a family. Aye, there are a few single lasses about my home, but I wasnae of a mind to put my name to them. What about Thomas?”

“Oh, all right, if you must know.”

“I must.”

“Thomas and I were engaged for three months. Before that we knew each other for nearly a year, and sometime during that year, he became a beau. Two weeks ago my family fell upon hard times rather abruptly. As a result Thomas sent me a letter this morning in which he formally ended our betrothal. I should have anticipated it, for he has assiduously avoided me since my family’s troubles began.”

“But how do ye feel about that?” He wondered if she was just trying to salvage her pride when she asked him to marry her, thus showing Thomas and the world how quickly she could replace the man.

“I told you—I have not really thought on it. When I begin my explanations, I believe you will understand why. I am angry, very angry. That much I do know.” She frowned as she sought the right words. “I feel deeply betrayed, but that comes mostly from the fact that I counted on Thomas and he failed me. I suppose my heart ought to be breaking, yet it does
not seem to be. However, the poor thing has suffered so many blows just lately that it may be beyond pain.”

“What are these troubles ye keep talking about?” he asked gently, deciding that he would get no better idea of her feelings for Thomas. She seemed to be very confused on the matter.

“It would be best if I started from the beginning. Two weeks ago my father came home, went into his study, and put a pistol to his head.”

Ballard cursed softly and took one of her tiny hands in his. “I am powerful sorry, lass.”

“Thank you.” She found herself briefly speechless, strongly affected by his touch, and nervously cleared her throat. “Well, to continue—we barely had time to see to Papa’s burial when the reasons for his suicide became all too clear. My father was a naive, trusting man, and he had put his faith in the wrong people to invest his money. Once he began to lose money, he borrowed in a vain attempt to recoup through other schemes—all dismal failures. The debts he left behind were very large ones. They have been paid, but we have no money left and in two weeks we shall have no home. All that remains to us are our clothes and furniture. All lands, silver, jewelry, and such assets went to pay off those debts.”