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last question. He’d thought of riding the six miles into town for a meal, but in truth, he needed sleep more.
    “Wel , we can take care of that in straight order. Me Anna’s in charge of the kitchen and busy as she is with the party, she’l stil have something on the back of the stove for supper. How about we go over and have a meal? I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to sit down meself for a bite.”
    Tobin needed sleep, but he didn’t want to seem impolite.
    They moved toward the house as Dermot continued, “Tonight starts the parties that wil last the rest of the week, right up to the wedding. We’ve got a house ful of important people, not that ’tis anything new. Hisself loves his dinner meetings and Miss Liberty loves her parties. Back in Washington, D.C., we sometimes go a week or more having parties every night.”
    They entered a large kitchen with half a dozen servants in white uniforms moving about. While Tobin was being introduced, he couldn’t help but grin wondering how Martha would react if he brought one of these uniforms home. Their housekeeper at Whispering Mountain had worn blue dresses with white aprons since the day she arrived. When a dress wore out, she simply ordered more yards of blue material.
    He saw huge trays of tiny little bits of food and was thankful when Dermot’s wife, Anna, offered him a bowl of stew. They ate at a side table off the main path. Dermot liked to brag about al the places he’d been with the senator, but he seemed a nice enough fel ow. His wife ran the kitchen and he managed the carriage house in Washington and the barn here.
    Halfway through the meal Tobin got in a question. “What happened to the senator’s wife? I met the daughter when she came to the barn to see the horse I brought in.”
    Dermot shook his head. “Ye might have met Miss Liberty, but I don’t think she came to the barn to see a horse. The lass has been afraid of them since she was a wee one and her mother got thrown. The senator’s lady hit her head and died instantly, ’tis said.
    Hisself blamed her death on a storm that spooked her horse. Little Liberty blamed it on the horse. She screamed so bad every time she saw that horse that the senator had me sel the animal.”
    Dermot scratched his long bushy sideburns. “If Miss Liberty was in the barn tonight, the lass was running from something. The little princess ies like the wind when she’s frightened and ’tis no tel ing which way she’l go. When she was a child I sometimes found her up in the loft crying her little eyes out over something. But when I asked her what had upset her, she’d storm around, claiming nothing was bothering her. Anna used to nd her curled up in the attic, her whole body shaking as she cried. But Miss Liberty would open up to no one. Got that from her father. He holds his feelings close to his chest.” He shook his head. “Life . . . ’tisn’t easy on that lass.”
    Tobin looked around him at al the silver and crystal. He had a rough time believing Liberty had a hard life. He bet she hadn’t gone a day without food, and al these people were hired to wait on her every need.
    The memory of her hand in his walked over his mind so strong he could almost feel the softness of her palm. Not a cal ous on it.
    He fought down any comment. She might have them fooled, but he had a hard time believing this “little princess,” as Dermot cal ed her, suffered any problems. She probably hadn’t done a day’s work in her life.
    Tobin accepted a slice of pie from a pretty maid whose smile hinted that she’d be wil ing to offer more. He turned his attention back to Dermot and asked the rst question that came to mind. “Isn’t it a little strange that she’d go to the barn if she was upset, what with her fear of horses?”
    The Irishman shook his head. “Most of the time I keep the horses in the corral. The barn is empty. Even just after the accident that kil ed her mother, her father made the lass go