Hannah Howell (14 page)

“If he wanted me so badly, why did he put an end to our betrothal?” Clover began gently to wash off Ballard’s face and was pleased to see that, under all the dirt and smeared blood, his bruises were not severe.

“Money, lass. Ye kenned that before. Thomas wants and needs Sarah’s money. He also wants ye to share his bed. He thought he could have both, but I mucked up his grand plan. Do ye ken, when I
refused to sell him the stallion, he nearly ran me and Grendall down with his carriage as he left.”

“He certainly sounds like a madman, yet why did I not see it in him before?”

“Ye were nae alone with him. There was always someone with ye, and he kens to behave weel before others. The airs and games one indulges in during courtship can hide a lot of ills. Lass, can ye check that other knot on my head? Just to the left. I dinnae think the skin was split, but it willnae hurt to be sure.”

“They hit you twice?” Clover eased her fingers through his thick hair until she found another swelling. “It appears all right, with no blood or excessive swelling.”

“When the rogues got me down, they gave me a hearty kick in the head to keep me down.” He ran a hand over his rib cage and winced. “The cowards kicked me a few times.”

“Take off your shirt and let me have a look.” She hastily swallowed a gasp when he tossed his shirt aside, for the bruising along his ribs was startlingly livid. “That will have to be seen by a doctor and he might as well look at those head wounds to see if a stitch or two is required.”

When she started walking away, Ballard grasped her arm. “We are nae done talking.”

“You can talk until he arrives and, if that is not enough, after he leaves.”

Clover tugged free of his hold and went to ask her mother to send for the doctor. She kept her conversation with her mother brief, although clearly Agnes could hardly contain her curiosity. Clover wanted to
judge Ballard’s truthfulness without other opinions influencing her, so she hurried back to her room.

“Mother has sent Molly after the doctor,” she announced as she found Ballard still sitting tensely on the bed. “There is no telling when he will get here, though.” She sat on the edge of the mattress and faced him. “Now you can finish this wild tale of yours.”

“‘Tis the truth.”

“I am still undecided about that.”

He described how the men had left him in the alley and he had staggered home. The look on her face told him she was seriously considering the truth of his tale. When even Lambert and Shelton suspected he had been trysting with Sarah, he had realized how bad his absence had looked. It was understandable that Clover was reluctant to believe his farfetched tale. He was not pleased when the doctor arrived just as he finished, for he was not sure such an interruption was in his best interest.

Clover left Ballard with the doctor and stepped out into the hall. She found herself smiling faintly when she heard Ballard’s muttered curses at the old doctor. She prayed she was not being a fool, swayed by passion and fine green eyes, but she did believe her husband’s story.

The moment the doctor left, Clover went back into the room. She winced in sympathy when she saw Ballard. He had been stripped to his drawers, a white bandage was wrapped around his head, and another bandage covered his bruised ribs. He looked a little pale.

“The doctor says your ribs are only bruised, not broken,” she said, settling herself on the end of the bed.

“That old coot was so rough, he practically finished the job Thomas started.”

Clover ignored that muttered complaint. “He also said you are to rest for the next few days and that I can remove the stitches from your head wound in ten days.”

“I will take it easy after tomorrow. I mean to greet that bastard Thomas when he comes to the door tomorrow morning.”

“Surely he will stay away now. He must know you have escaped.”

“I cannae believe those two rogues will tell him they failed to do what he paid them for. I have Shelton and Lambert watching for Thomas. If anyone warns him I am still alive, we will ken it. I just hope the doctor’s presence willnae make Dillingsworth suspicious.”

“You mean to thrash Thomas again.”

“Aye, I do.”

“Well, I do not believe the doctor would approve.”

“I dinnae give a tinker’s damn what the doctor thinks. I do care what
ye
think. Ye have nae said ye believe me.”

She sighed and shook her head. “I am torn. ‘Tis such a wild tale, yet I cannot believe you would concoct it out of thin air. But it raises so many questions.”

“What sort of questions?”

“How carefully could Thomas have thought this out? There are a great many holes in his plan.”

“Enough to sail a clipper through,” Ballard agreed. “I believe he or one of his hirelings was spying on Grendall, for he kenned I saved the horse. The rogues who set upon me thought it odd that they were paid ere they had done their work.”

“What did Thomas plan to do when questions were asked about your death?”

“I suspect he thinks no one will care. I would be just another backwoodsmon killed outside a dockside tavern.”

“And, at the moment the fact that you are my husband would make little difference.”

“Those who suspected something wouldnae speak out. Grendall made that plain enough. Thomas has a tight grip on this town.”

“But he is short of funds.”

“Probably because he lent out so much to tighten his hold on the people here. Grendall said a lot of people could be ruined if Thomas called in the debts owed him. Now, I ask ye again—do ye believe me?”

“Yes, I do. When he arrived on our wedding day, Thomas revealed how low he can sink. He thought he was offering me such a treat, that being his whore would be so much better than being your wife.” Clover shook her head. “It is hard to understand how I could have been so blind to his true character.”

Ballard started to reach out for her in sympathy, then cursed as pain gripped his ribs, echoing the throbbing in his head. As he sagged back against the pillow, Clover scrambled over to his side. He gave her a weak smile.

“I was going to give ye a wee bit of sympathy,” he said.

“‘Tis not I who need sympathy. And you plan to thrash Thomas tomorrow? In your bruised state?”

“After a good night’s rest I can manage Thomas Dillingsworth.”

She could see by the stubborn set of his jaw that he was not going to be convinced otherwise. Ballard
would confront Thomas tomorrow even if someone had to hold him up. Clover sighed and lay down beside Ballard. Men were strange creatures.

“I was afeared ye wouldnae believe me,” Ballard murmured as he slipped an arm around Clover and sighed when she cuddled up to him.

“It took some convincing,” she admitted. “I will be glad to leave this town. Everything I believed about it and the people here has been turned on its head. And the way Thomas has acted makes it clear that it would be best to get as far away from him as possible.”

“Aye, ye can soon leave it all behind ye.”

Clover stood at the parlor window staring out at the road. She had not slept as well as Ballard had. He had the peace of mind that came from knowing exactly what he faced and how he would confront it, but that calm had eluded her.

When Thomas’s carriage pulled up outside, she sighed with regret. She had hoped Ballard was wrong about Thomas’s plans. She felt the worst of fools, blind and naive, for having seriously misjudged her former fiancé.

The rap on the front door made her wince. It was difficult to stay where she was and let Molly answer the door, but she had promised Ballard. Molly would come and get her. As she talked to Thomas, Molly would fetch Ballard from the kitchen. Clover suspected that Ballard wanted her to talk to Thomas so that she could see the final truth of his tale for herself. She dreaded the revelation.

“Miss,” Molly called from the parlor doorway, “that man is here.”

“I know.” Clover started slowly toward the door, reluctance weighting her every step. “I just hope I can play the game and not give in to the urge to punch him right in the nose.”

“Best to leave that to Mr. MacGregor.”

Clover nodded and stepped out into the hall. She spared one brief glance toward Molly, who hurried off to the kitchen. She hoped Ballard would not leave her alone long with Thomas. It would be impossible to hide her anger for any considerable length of time. Besides, Thomas’s arrival had given her all the proof of his perfidy that she needed.

Thomas was pacing the front hall and lightly slapping his gloves against his breeches. The bruises from Ballard’s last beating were still faintly visible on his face. For reasons she could not grasp, the sight inspired her to remember things about Thomas she had chosen to ignore and forget—things she had shrugged away as mere rumor and unfounded gossip. The one that came to mind most clearly was the tale of John Reardon.

John had trounced Thomas at cards and had been found beaten nearly to death the next morning. Clover doubted that Thomas had done it himself, but she now strongly suspected he had ordered it done.

She took a deep breath, set her face in an expression of forlorn hurt, and cleared her throat, drawing Thomas’s attention. “Good morning, Thomas. I am surprised you would show your face here after your behavior on my wedding day.”

He took her hands in his. “I had to come, Clover. Once I heard the news—”

“What news?” Clover briefly feared that Ballard’s plan to fool Thomas had also fooled the town, and now a new scandal was brewing around her.

“Come, Clover, there is no need to maintain this dignified facade. When I heard that that backwoods oaf had gotten himself killed in a drunken brawl, I had to come.”

“Why?”

“Why? My dear girl, since that callow dog has been murdered, you are again in dire straits.”

“Ah, and you are here to rescue me.” Clover felt a strong unladylike urge to spit.

“My offer is still open. I realize it is not what a finely bred girl like you deserves, but my hands are tied. I assure you, however, that I will be a husband to you in all but name. This will not be some passing fancy where, in a year or two, you will again find yourself alone. Even if we no longer wish to reside together, I will see that you are well taken care of.”

“She already has someone to take care of her,” drawled Ballard as he stepped up behind Clover.

Clover was startled by Ballard’s sudden arrival. She had not heard a sound until he spoke and slipped his arm around her shoulders. Despite her curiosity about how Ballard could come out of the kitchen and move along the hall like a wraith, unseen and unheard, she turned her full attention back to Thomas.

He looked as if he had seen a ghost. His fair skin had turned a sickly gray. It took only a moment for him to collect himself, however, and his abrupt mood change made her uneasy. He glared at her.
Still, she thought she saw fear lurking behind his anger.

“You might have told me that he had not died, Clover,” Thomas snapped.

She shrugged. “You gave me little chance to speak. You were too intent upon your own plans.” She shook her head. “I do not know which makes me sadder—that I misjudged your character and actually contemplated marrying you, or that after we have known each other so well, you would plot to hurt me so badly. In my time of need and grief you have thought only of yourself.”

“How can you accuse me of selfishness? I did it all for you, to help you.”

“Help me? Depriving me of my lawful husband, making me the laughingstock of the town, and setting me up to be your whore—all that was intended to help me? God save me from such help.”

“You ungrateful bitch!” Oblivious of Ballard’s presence, Thomas took a threatening step toward Clover.

“Ye are a little too free with your insults, laddie,” said Ballard as he moved to put himself between Thomas and Clover. “Molly has some tea waiting for ye, Clover. I will join ye in a moment.”

“Yes, send the child away,” Thomas hissed. “Those two fools failed to end your wretched life, but I will not.”

“Let us see if ye have the backbone to live up to your threats.”

“Please,” Clover began, afraid for Ballard.

“Go to the kitchen, Clover,” he ordered.

After briefly hesitating while she debated the wisdom of meekly obeying Ballard’s command, Clover went to the kitchen. Thomas was eager for a
fight. In truth, he was eager to kill her husband. There was nothing she could do. Ballard had to defend himself in any way he could.

“Here, miss,” Molly greeted her as she entered the kitchen. “Sit and have some tea.”

Clover smiled faintly as she sat down at the table, in one of the few remaining chairs. “Where are my mother and the twins?”

“Mr. MacGregor sent them off to the shops.” Molly served Clover her tea, then sat down to have a cup herself. “He felt it best that they were gone when that rapscallion came a-calling.”

“He was probably right. I just hope having people thrashed in my front hall does not become a habit.”

“I should not think so, miss. This ought to send that low rascal scurrying back to his hole for good and all.”

Although she was not so sure, Clover did not argue. “You need not keep calling me
miss
, Molly. It feels strange for you to do so when you are in fact my teacher.”

“I was brought up in service, and ‘tis hard to break old habits. But I will try to be less formal. Ah, I just heard the front door shut. I think your man has done his business.”

Molly had barely finished speaking when Ballard strode into the kitchen. Clearly, yet again, it had been an unequal fight, for Ballard looked none the worse for wear. Clover noticed, however, that as he sat down to accept Molly’s offer of cider, he winced. He might not have gained any new injuries, but he had no doubt aggravated his old ones. When he caught her looking at him, he cocked one eyebrow, and she got the distinct impression that he did not want her to
ask about his wounds. She idly wondered how long she would be able to obey that silent command.

“Did you take Thomas over to Sarah’s again?” she asked.

“Nay. I tossed him out into the street. He had come in his carriage so his driver picked him up. Last time I had a thought to keep a scandal from brewing, but I didnae care this time. We willnae be here more than a day or two anyway.”