Hannah Howell (32 page)

Clover groaned. “That means I must get the morning meal all on my own.”

“You will do just fine. Now I hear your husband coming to collect you. Have a nice time tonight, dear.”

“You too, Mama. And wish Molly the same.”

“Are you certain about this?” Thomas demanded of the man standing before him. “I am a hunted man, as are my cohorts. It seems that bastard MacGregor has every man, woman, and child in Kentucky beating the bushes for us. We cannot afford to go off on any wild goose chases.” He shot a condemning glare at Poonley and Big Jim, who were lounging in a dark corner.

“This ain’t gonna be a wild goose chase,” promised the stranger. “Ain’t no one who could know where Ballard MacGregor will be tonight better’n me. I be Cyril Potsdam’s top stablehand,” said Corey Winston. “I know everything what goes on at that demmed mansion of his.”

Thomas took a slow swallow of bitter ale and tried to think what to do next. The constant pounding in
his head made that difficult. Since Clover’s escape from his dim-witted associates, he had been forced to hide in the tiny, squalid cabin belonging to Poonley’s lover Helen. With each miserable day he spent in the filthy confines, he had grown to hate Ballard MacGregor all the more, but his efforts to hurt the man were thwarted by the large number of people searching for them. A few times they had nearly been caught at Helen’s. Now the chance for revenge was being handed to him on a silver salver. He was not sure he ought to trust in such a stroke of luck.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked Corey. “Since you are one of the very few men who knows that Poonley sometimes comes here, why help us instead of turning us in to our enemies?”

“‘Cause the fool is sweet on Elizabeth Brown,” revealed Big Jim. “You want the little whore all to yourself, ain’t that right, Corey? But she just ain’t gonna stop panting after MacGregor.” He laughed when Corey lunged at him. Poonley knocked the man to the floor.

“You ain’t got no call to talk about Elizabeth that way,” Corey protested as he staggered to his feet and wiped the blood from his lip. He turned back to Thomas. “I ain’t doing this just because Elizabeth wants to make an ass out of herself over that cursed Scot. His prissy wife done threatened Elizabeth and put the fear of God into her. Elizabeth be too scared to come outta her house now.”

“And so you ain’t getting no honey,” said Big Jim.

“Shut up, Jim.” Thomas studied Corey for a moment, then nodded, wincing as a shaft of pain ripped through his head. “I find it hard to believe little Clover could scare anyone, but perhaps her time with Ballard
MacGregor has already made her somewhat of a barbarian. Anyway, I believe your reasons for helping us, stupid though they are. A few facts would help us now. When will he arrive, when will he leave, what road will he travel, and will he have extra men with him for protection?”

“Well, I ain’t sure I can answer all them questions. Potsdam told them to come by eight, but there ain’t no telling when MacGregor will decide to leave and go back home. I do know he told Potsdam he wouldn’t be spending the night. There is only one road MacGregor can go on to get to Potsdam’s house since he be driving a wagon. Big Jim knows where it is as well as I do.”

Big Jim nodded. “I know a good spot where we can jump the fool. About a mile or two of that road goes through some thick wood. We can hide there till MacGregor ambles by.”

“And how many men will he have with him?” Thomas asked Corey.

“I told you, I ain’t got no idea. MacGregor ain’t let his wife go nowhere alone since you tried dragging her off. He might have a guard or two riding with him, but who can say? He might think he is protection enough.”

“Can you get one of these fools close enough to see for himself without being spotted?”

“Reckon I can.”

“Poonley, you go with him.” Thomas gave Corey a small pouch of coins. “You had better not be leading us into a trap. Just keep in mind that if even one of us survives a surprise attack you will pay dearly for any treachery. Poonley, as soon as you know how well MacGregor is protected, ride back here.”

Poonley nodded. “Wouldn’t you be better placed setting in them woods?”

“Not just yet. The MacGregors will be at Potsdam’s for several hours at least. That leaves us plenty of time for you to come back here, tell us what we face, and allow us to set the trap.”

“You sure they will be there for so long? They ain’t doing nothing but having a meal.”

“‘Tis a formal dinner at a rich man’s house. They will be there for hours, and Potsdam’s place is but a few miles south of here. Go on, and be sure you get your facts straight before you return.” As soon as Poonley left with Corey, Thomas looked at Big Jim. “Do we have him now?”

“Sure do sound that way.” Big Jim took a long drink of ale and belched. “Are you planning on taking him and the woman, or just the woman? If it were me, I would just kill her demmed husband. He ain’t gonna be easy to hold while you be playing some fancy games with his wife.”

“I may yet settle for just killing him. We will see how things play out tonight. I
do
want him alive long enough to know that I have taken his little wife, and maybe even a few of my plans for her. And I want Clover Sherwood to know the full price for refusing me.”

Once again Ballard glanced over at Clover as he drove to Potsdam’s house. She was beautiful. She also looked elegant, wealthy, and well-bred. Just like the ladies he had watched as a child in Edinburgh.

It caused him some dismay that Clover looked so much like the women in those fancy carriages. He
was painfully aware that he owned no carriage and was taking her to dinner in a farm wagon. He felt uncomfortably like that raw boy again, the dreamy child who was sharply refused when he tried to touch something he could never have. Ballard wanted to stop and make love to Clover, to reassure himself that she was his wife, not some stranger’s elegant lady. But, of course, making love to her now was impractical.

“Did your mother tell ye her news then?” he asked Clover, hoping that a little conversation would pull him out of his dark musings.

“Yes.” Clover smiled at him. “It did take me aback a little and I needed some time to get over the shock, but I
am
happy for her. Now I just hope others do not judge her too harshly for remarrying so soon after my father’s death.”

“There will be little of that nonsense around here. It will help that Colin Doogan has few enemies. ‘Tis sad that it should matter, but the fact that your father killed himself will help them to accept the hasty union. Fair or not, folks around here call that abandonment.”

“I do sometimes think of it that way. It is probably not fair, for I have no knowledge of the depth of the despair he must have been suffering that day. The more I think on those last months with Papa, the more I realize that he and Mama were not happy. Papa had distanced himself from us. He was completely engrossed in his financial troubles.

“Ballard, I must ask—is this journey wise?” She looked around, distrusting the shadowy depths of the forest.

“Since your kidnapping, no one has seen hide nor
hair of Big Jim, his three friends, or Thomas. That doesnae mean that there is no longer any danger, but it suggests that they are in hiding.”

“That makes sense. They would plan to stay hidden too, at least until people cease to look for them as diligently as they are now. It just makes me a little nervous to go out without two or three people.” She grinned when he laughed.

“I was a little overcautious, for awhile there,” Ballard said. “I admit it. As ye once said, we cannae let these threats rule our lives.” He patted the musket on the seat between them. “We are nae completely unprotected. And, lass, if we have nae seen the rogues about, then how could they learn where we will be tonight? That takes some spying, and I am sure the bastards have nae been close enough to do that.”

“Of course.” She relaxed. “I shall cease worrying about them and just enjoy the evening.”

Ballard inwardly winced as he drew the wagon to a halt before the elegant brick two-story house. A liveried hand came to take the wagon and another servant stood by the front door. Clean white pillars framed the brick steps to the wide veranda. He glanced at Clover and watched her gracefully mount the steps, nodding elegantly to the servant as he opened the door for them. She looked perfectly suited to the grandeur that had always intimidated him.

Ballard smiled at Cyril Potsdam and his eldest son, Theodore, as the men welcomed him and Clover. Potsdam had had money when he had come to Kentucky, a hefty sum from his father to start anew, away from Virginia and a scandal concerning a married lady with whom he had become entangled in the
latter years of the Revolution, when he was a new widower. He had the only brick house in the area and, Ballard noted as he followed Cyril, Theodore, and Clover into the parlor, all of the elegant trappings of the gentry, from gilt-framed mirrors to multi-branched pewter sconces and silver candelabras.

Here were all the things Clover had had to give up. Ballard knew that had not been his fault, but he could not help her regain all of her losses either. There would probably never be matching portraits of him and Clover hanging over the fireplace as there was of Cyril Potsdam and his late wife Emily. Ballard did not think he would ever reach the point where he could enjoy the elegance and comfort Cyril did, an elegance and comfort Clover had, until recently, taken for granted. Ballard heartily wished he had not brought Clover to Potsdam’s, for she must be realizing all she had lost and knowing that he could never get it for her.

“Your boys should be home soon, shouldnae they?” he asked Cyril as he sat next to Clover on an elegant silk brocade upholstered settee. A tall, silent man served them drinks before slipping noiselessly from the room. “He has two more sons—Joshua and Kenneth. They are at two of those fine schools back east,” he told Clover.

“They should be back before too much longer,” Cyril replied as he sat in a chair facing them. “It seems Joshua has become engaged and he will be bringing his young lady here to visit.”

“So ye ought to be enjoying some grandchildren soon,” Ballard said.

“Well, I am sure Joshua will have children, but I
do not believe they will live here. From his letters I get the feeling he will be joining a rather prestigious banking firm in Boston. A good opportunity, but I had hoped all of my sons would return to Kentucky to live. Kenneth has not made any choices yet so there is still time.”

“There does appear to be a great deal of opportunity right here,” said Clover.

Cyril and Theodore heartily agreed and began to tell her of the various ways people were finding prosperity. She began to see that Ballard clearly had the same keen eye for opportunity yet with the caution that came from having limited funds. Ballard would prosper. Education would be important, however, and Clover promised herself that the children she and Ballard would be blessed with would have as much schooling as they could afford.

Later, as they ate dinner in the extravagantly candlelit dining room, Ballard listened to Clover, Cyril, and Theodore talk. He knew he was foolish for feeling ignored. Though he was kept involved in every conversation, he began to feel set apart from his wife and his host. They touched upon similar pasts that he had no knowledge of—of balls, teas, books they had read, the theater, and various social rules that often resulted in some amusing situations. Not knowing what the rules were, Ballard often did not understand what they found so funny.

The dinner itself was an ordeal for Ballard. He had to keep a close eye on what Clover, Theodore, and Cyril did for, despite all of the lessons Clover had given him in the last three days to prepare for the dinner, he was intimidated by the elegant setting. The candlelight gleamed off the heavy silver and
pewter serving dishes lined up along the center of the huge table. He warily eyed the delicately embroidered tablecloth, wondering how easily it would stain. As he took a sip of wine, he feared breaking the etched glass he held. It made him a little uncomfortable to be waited upon by Cyril’s man, the tall, silent, and stone-faced Carter. Ballard was relieved when the meal was over and they returned to the parlor for a brandy, but it was short-lived.

Cyril stood by his massive fireplace, a brandy in his hand and his arm resting on the marble mantelpiece. Ballard almost smiled. Cyril Potsdam looked every inch the aristocrat, a comparison he knew the ex-Continental Army officer would not appreciate.

His amusement fled, however, when he looked at Clover and Theodore. The young, fair-haired Theodore had taken a seat right next to Clover on the elegant settee. There was room for him too, but the pair was so immersed in a lively discussion he knew he would feel as if he were intruding.

They discussed the theater some more, talking knowledgably about the plays they had seen. It did not soothe Ballard’s growing sense of estrangement to hear that Clover had not been to the theater very often, for he himself had never been. Since he had just begun to read, he had read none of the plays and books they spoke of. He smiled and responded politely when they drew him into their conversation, but despite his strenuous attempts not to, he began to count the ways he and Clover were unalike.

Clover had seen a live performance on stage while he had once begged for pennies outside of a theater. Clover had heard an opera singer. He was not even sure what that was. Clover knew of the latest in
French fashion while he knew who made the best homespun for the least money. The list of their differences grew and grew until his head ached. He began to wonder how soon he could get Clover out of there without offending his host.

It was almost midnight when Ballard decided it was time to leave. Cyril sent his man to order Ballard’s wagon brought round and they waited on the veranda for the stablehand to hitch it up and drive it over. It was a warm, moonlit night and Ballard wondered if he would be able to convince Clover to stop along the way and make love under the stars. After a long evening in her world, feeling increasingly estranged from her, he had a strong need to feel her wrapped around him, her passion warming them both.