The Pattern of Her Heart (36 page)

She couldn’t imagine why Kiara had invited her to supper, but she intended to use the matter to her advantage. She couldn’t be sure that Paddy would join them for the meal, but if he proved to be absent, Mary Margaret might very well ask to see the horses. Surely that wouldn’t seem odd to anyone; after all, she had proven herself to be interested in the beasts. And their trainer.

Kiara moved swiftly to tidy her appearance. Within minutes, she looked as though she’d been doing nothing but sitting in the parlor and reading or sewing all afternoon. She walked down the steps and hurried to his side as Rogan started to answer the door.

“Mary Margaret, we are so pleased to have you join us this evening,” Kiara greeted. “Do come in.”

“I’m delighted. It’s most kind of ya to invite me. I hope I haven’t caused yar family too long a wait for their supper,” she said as Kiara took her cloak.

Rogan laughed. “I do na think it would hurt any of us ta go without a meal or two,” he said, patting his stomach.

While Rogan and the children entertained Mary Margaret in the parlor, Kiara took her leave and hurried to the kitchen. After ladling the stew into a large crock, she again checked to see if Paddy was on his way. Simon appeared to be headed for home, but there was no sign of Paddy. If she sent Nevan to fetch his uncle, he would surely reveal that Mary Margaret was joining them for supper. Best to wait a wee bit longer, she decided.

The back door opened just as she was slicing a round of warm caraway rye bread. “I believe I’m smelling rye bread,” Paddy said as he walked into the kitchen.

Kiara stopped, knife in midair. “Look at ya! Did ya na think to wash up before comin’ from the barns? Ya smell as bad as those stables ya’ve been mucking. I’ll fetch one of Rogan’s shirts for ya.”

Mouth agape, Paddy stared at her for a moment before regaining his wits. “Ya told me to come for supper. Ya did na say to clean up before I came. I hurried down here hoping I’d na be causing yar supper to be late. There’s no pleasing ya, Kiara.”

She stomped her foot and pointed to the other room. “And hurry!” she ordered before stepping to the parlor door and motioning to her son.

“Run upstairs and fetch one of your father’s shirts. Bring it to me in the kitchen—and don’t ask any questions. Just do as ya’re told.”

As Nevan scurried off, Kiara told the others that supper would be ready in just a wee bit.

“I’d be happy to give ya a hand with the preparations,” Mary Margaret offered.

“I won’t hear of it. Ya sit there and enjoy yarself,” she said, hurrying off before Mary Margaret could argue the point.

After placing the food on the dining room table, she surveyed the kitchen to make certain she’d not forgotten anything.

“Do I pass yar inspection?” Paddy asked as he returned to the kitchen.

“I suppose ya’ll have to do, but ya could have dried yar hair a wee bit. Supper’s waiting—put on this shirt and come along with ya.”

Paddy shrugged into the shirt and fastened the final button as he followed Kiara into the dining room. “Ya’re acting strange. I do na see what all the fuss—”

When her brother stopped midsentence, Kiara knew he’d spied Mary Margaret sitting in the adjacent parlor. Stepping to one side, she pulled Paddy forward. “I’m sure ya’ll be remembering me brother, Paddy,” she said to Mary Margaret.

“Aye, that I do. Good evening, Paddy,” she said.

“Good evening. I did na know Kiara was entertaining this evening or I would have dressed for the occasion,” he said, giving Kiara a frown.

“Sure and I think ya look quite presentable,” Mary Margaret said.

Kiara was pleased to see the sparkle in Mary Margaret’s eyes as she spoke to Paddy. And though Paddy might have been reluctant to admit such a thing, there was an undeniable attraction between Mary Margaret and her brother. With a feeling of smug satisfaction, she directed the family into the dining room, being careful to seat Paddy and Mary Margaret side-by-side.

Once the children were settled around the table and Rogan had said grace, Kiara passed the stew to her husband. “Would ya be so kind as ta serve?”

“Aye,” he replied, taking the bowls as she handed them to him. “So ya had a busy day did ya?” he asked Paddy while ladling stew into one of the white stoneware bowls.

“That we did. I knew ’twould be busy, but Mr. Wainwright unexpectedly came by to visit and completely ruined my schedule. Na that I wasn’t pleased ta see him, mind ya,” he quickly added.

“And what brought McKinley Wainwright to the horse farm?” Rogan inquired as he finished serving the stew.

“He had a telegram from Mr. Houston and wanted to tell me that they’re on their way home.”

Kiara handed the plate of bread to her husband. “That’s wonderful news ta be hearin’. I’ve missed my visits with Jasmine. When will they be arrivin’?”

“They didn’t say exactly. Mr. Houston told me the telegram seemed somewhat strange—as though they were afraid to give details.”

“Why would they be afraid ta say when they’re comin’ home?” Kiara asked.

Paddy shrugged. “The telegram said they’d met with some kind of difficulty. They didn’t say what and they didn’t say when they’d be here—just that they were on the way and anxious to be home.”

“Those people down South probably give them a hard time for not believing in slavery or some such thing,” Rogan said.

“I’m hoping they’ll be back before there’s further negotiating to be done with the customers,” Paddy said.

“Kiara tells me that ya’ve done an excellent job taking over for Mr. Houston during his absence,” Mary Margaret said, “and ya’ve shown a deep kindness toward the customers ya’ve been dealing with.”

“Has she now?” Paddy asked as he gave his sister a suspicious look.

Kiara jumped to her feet before her brother could say anything further. “I’m guessing ya all would like a piece of apple cake. I’ll be off ta the kitchen for only a wee bit.”

“Let me help,” Mary Margaret offered.

Paddy pushed back his chair. “Ya should na be helping, Mary Margaret. Ya’re a guest. I’ll be pleased ta lend a hand.”

Kiara wilted. She knew she’d catch an earful as soon as they were in the other room unless she immediately took the offensive. “I was telling Bridgett of your accomplishments with the gentlemen from West Point,” she started as soon as they were out of earshot, “and Mary Margaret merely overheard the conversation. Do na think I spend my time telling of my brother’s accomplishments to all who will listen.”

“Ya do na fool me even a wee bit, Kiara. It’s matchmaking ya’re trying yar hand at, and I do na need help finding a lass—
if
I’ve a mind to.”

“I see little evidence of that! Ya keep ta yarself like a hermit. Mary Margaret is a fine lass, and ya could do no better even if ya tried on yar own.”

“She’s nice enough,” he admitted.

“Then go out there and talk to her,” Kiara said. “I’m capable of servin’ cake on me own, ya know.”

“I do na need yar meddling. Nor do I like it.”

“Off with ya and take the cake platter with ya. And
talk
to her,” she hissed as they walked through the doorway.

“Mary Margaret tells me she’s on the committee to help with the St. Patrick’s Day dance,” Rogan said before taking a bite of the cake.

“From the sounds of things, ’tis going to be a fine celebration,” Kiara said. “Paddy’s helping with some of the festivities also. Aren’t ya, Paddy?” she urged.

“Aye.”

“And how are the plans coming?” Kiara asked, wishing she could kick him under the table.

“Fine.”

She sighed. Obviously Paddy was going to do his best to prove that he didn’t want her assistance. By the time they’d finished supper and visited for a short time, she knew her assessment was correct. Paddy hadn’t entered into the conversation except when absolutely required.

“It has been a lovely evening, but I must be getting back to the boardinghouse,” Mary Margaret finally announced.

“I’m supposin’ Paddy would be willing to drive ya back,” Rogan said without waiting for Paddy to comment. “The buggy’s out front.”

Paddy nodded his agreement, clearly unwilling to cause Mary Margaret any embarrassment by refusing Rogan’s request.

Mary Margaret settled into the leather buggy seat and attempted to hide her delight. From the moment he had entered the dining room with his damp black curls clinging to his forehead, she had longed to spend at least a few moments alone with Paddy. He’d been particularly quiet during the evening, but now she would have the entire ride back to the boardinghouse to visit with him.

“I do hope ya do na find this too much of an inconvenience,” she said as he sat down beside her.

He unwound the reins and flicked them with a practiced ease. “I do na mind—my day has been filled by one unexpected event after another—the evening should be no different.”

“I do na know if I should consider that good or bad,” she said quietly.

He glanced in her direction and then gave her a lopsided grin. “ ’Tis na a bad thing, just unexpected.”

“ ’Twas nice to spend the evening with your sister’s family—she’s very kind.”

“Aye. A wee bit meddlesome from time ta time, but there’s no denying she’s got a good heart.” A moment passed, quiet but for the creaking leather and horses’ hooves. “Do ya still like livin’ in the boardinghouse?”

“ ’Tis fine, though things are becomin’ difficult in the mills. Many of the girls have lost their jobs, and it does na look as though things are going ta get much better in the near future.”

“Aye, so I’ve been told. The men are suffering as well. This downturn in the economy has many facin’ difficult situations.”

“At least my mind is na on the economy when I’m helpin’ to plan the dance,” she said. “We all have fun while we’re at the meetings and do na discuss our work and such. Is it the same with the men? When ya’re planning the parade?”

“Aye—’tis a good place ta forget yar worries,” he agreed. Paddy gave her a sidelong glance. “So what kind of plans do ya lasses have? Are ya plannin’ something more than in the past?”

“For the dance? The plans seem no different than for most parties. Most of the ladies only say that they’re looking forward to an evening of dancing and hoping that there are enough men to dance with. They hope, too, that the downturn does na spoil the festivities.”

“I think it would take more than the economy to ruin St. Patrick’s Day.”

Mary Margaret nodded. “Some of the girls I work with who live in the Acre have already bought fabric to make their dresses. They said they’d do without other things before they’d go without a new dress for the dance.”

The dance. It seemed as if every conversation with Mary Margaret turned into talk of the dance. He didn’t know why he hadn’t yet asked her—after all, she was a pretty lass with a sweet smile, and she would likely say yes. And it wasn’t as though he had anyone else whom he wished to escort. After all, if he waited much longer, someone else might ask her. Quite obviously, there was no reason to delay.

He pulled back on the reins as they neared the boardinghouse. When the buggy came to a halt, he turned to face her. “I was wondering . . . if ya might . . .” he haltingly began. “That is ta say, if ya do na already have plans . . .” He hesitated once again.

“Yes?” she asked encouragingly.

“Do ya think ya might . . . like ta—” he swallowed hard—“go ta the dance with m-me?” he finally stammered.

“Aye, that I would!”

She replied so quickly it nearly took his breath away. “Ya
would
?”

“Of course I would. I was hoping for an invitation— from you,” she hastily added.

“Then I suppose it’s settled,” he said as he walked her to the door.

“Aye, that it is,” she replied sweetly before disappearing behind the door of the boardinghouse.

Paddy hoisted himself onto the buggy seat and flicked the reins. For a brief moment he was proud of himself—pleased he’d had the courage to ask Mary Margaret to the dance and that she had so readily accepted. Yet his thoughts quickly returned to previous conversations with the lass. There was no denying her beauty and the fact that she could be pleasant. On the other hand, she had a stubborn streak a mile wide and a large portion of unbridled determination. She reminded him of his sister! And unlike Rogan, he wasn’t certain he could tame Miss Mary Margaret O’Flannery!