DEVEREAUX IS IN CLOVER, A BIT

Dev spoon fed Mary Ingalls a bit more vanilla ice cream. She was laughing, so melodically! Devereaux was on a cloud. He'd danced all night last night with Mary and walked Mary and Augusta to the carriage house, although Augusta was a terrible interrupter.

Paula Witherspoon, who Devereaux had been courting was here at the barbecue today and didn't look too happy; but although Mother and Father hoped Dev would marry Paula, and he'd liked her up until now…

Mary was so unusual! She'd read Thackeray and Dickens and Trollope and Henry James, and even Edith Wharton, before her visual affliction, and expressed hope that the novels would be coming out in the raised dot book form that the blind people had.

"Unfortunately, a lot of Braille is along the lines of fairy tales and dime novels, but I'm grateful I've made the progress that I have, Dev." Mary had said earlier.

And now she was giggling and laughing! Dev didn't usually make girls laugh this much—his brother Ollie was much better at that, as was Cousin Reckness, but fortunately, Reck was sitting with his own older brother, Cyril Rackstraw, better known as C.R.

They were probably talking about Blue Flash's chances in the Lilburn County stakes for three year old colts Friday. Yes, let them stay there.

FINALLY Mary had stopped asking about Reckness, and it was about time. And also it was quite fortunate that Dev's annoying sisters weren't hovering around any more.

Oh gosh, was Uncle Willoughby coming over? Fat, sweaty Uncle Will? Oh…no. Look at him, stained tobacco in his teeth. Ugh.

UNCLE WILLOUGHBY IS PLEASED

Damnation if my brother doesn't have some fat, homely children, Willoughby thought as he wandered across the grass. At least Missy and Phillippa can be married off for their money, but what on earth is to be done with Dev…porky, bookish, and bothering that lovely blind girl.

Nice, full cheeked thing. Dimples. Like the girl at Kerwin's bordello, the one who let you hit her with a belt!

Will breathed in nasally, taking the entire sight of Mary Ingalls in. Lookie that hair. C.R. had assured Will that he might be able to arrange a private introduction. Will looked with irritation as the Harkins girl wrinkled her nose at him. Well, you ain't no oil painting yourself, lady.

Willoughby knew his brother, Oliphant Senior, wouldn't have extended the invitation if Will wasn't a part owner of the packing house…they snubbed him here.

It's shameful. Will absentmindedly combed his hair over his bald spot—no, just a high forehead, thinning, that's what the madam at Farnesworth Hall said, yes and she slapped the girl who called Will "Cue-ball" Shameful. I have hair, a bit, and its no never mind to a girl who doesn't have eyes, or eyes that work, anyway. Miss Mary Ingalls's eyes are blue, and pretty, hey?

And 'tisn't she a shapely thing under that sun-washed gown, whatever it is. Like a Mexican poncho, why ain't she showin' her buzzim?

MARY IS POLITE

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Veazey." Mary finally got her hand back from the sweaty grasp. Perhaps her nostrils were sensitive, now that sight was gone, but this fellow didn't smell like he'd changed his clothes in some time.

"Oh honey, you kin call me Uncle Willoughby, or just plain Will, tell her, Dev, I don't stand on ceremony." His voice was higher than a woman's…how curious.

Dev's voice came. "Well, Uncle Will, I'm just feeding Mary a bit of ice cream. She says they don't really have it back where she's from, but she's enjoying it."

Mary was enjoying it, and had to admit Devereaux had been very pleasant. She wondered where Reckness had gotten off to, but apparently his brother had just arrived, and perhaps they were discussing private family matters or something.

"So you'se still in school at th' law practice, there, Dev, mah boy?"

"No, Uncle, I am clerking under Judge Drake now, and I'll be ready—"

"Yes, yes, I tried th' law y'know, but they accused me of an impropriety at my Bar Exam, and then your granddaddy suggested I'd be happier jus' workin' for him—"

Oh dear, there was a hand on Mary's knee. Mary wished Ma were here. She could explain how to navigate bad behavior. Mary actually wished PA were here, and there might be a lot less of said behavior, eh?

"Miss Ingalls, I was wondering—"that high voice again—"Whether you'd like me to show you about the prop'itty. My brother's got an amazing spread here, and—"

"Well, Uncle Will, I'm still helping Mary have her ice cream—"

"Don't interrupt yo' elder's Devereaux. Very uh, disrespectful. Miss Ingalls—"

"I thank you for the offer,Mr. Veazey—"

"Oh, Uncle Will, please." With the "P" in "please" Mary felt very, very wet slobber hit her cheek. Perhaps Adam was right. Maybe she WASN'T mature enough to travel unchaperoned.