Chapter Nine
“A ball!” Prudence said, her face falling a little at the thought of not being there. “You are lucky.” Then, setting aside her own disappointment like the good friend she was, “I could tell Mr. Sutherland was struck with you. The way he looks at you!”
Cat laughed at that. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, but she was asking herself at the same time, Does he really look at me like that?
“She’s not,” Harriet assured her. “He is enamored of you. He barely noticed us.”
Cat opened her mouth and closed it again.
Perhaps sensing her confusion, Prudence interrupted. “You haven’t told us yet what Mrs. Dove-Lyon said to you. You were just about to when Mr. Sutherland arrived.”
That sobered Cat. After the interview with the Black Widow, she had lain awake all night reliving those moments. “She thinks I should marry him,” she admitted.
The girls gasped. “But then he will own you!” Harriet wailed.
Cat caught her arm and gave it a shake. “Hush, Harriet, everyone will hear.”
“It’s the truth though,” Prudence said more mildly, her eyes searching Cat’s expression. “You can’t put yourself in his power like that.”
“Mrs. Dove-Lyon had a solution to that,” Cat replied. “She said she would make sure the contract had a clause in it, whereby the Master would ensure his grandfather gave Bonnyrigg to me. As some sort of wedding gift.”
“But why would he?” Harriet asked in her practical way. “What is in it for him?”
“I am a duke’s daughter, and Mrs. Dove-Lyon says that Lord Armytage wants his grandson to marry a duke’s daughter. I suppose it isn’t as though he needs the money, so my shaky situation when it comes to a dowry does not matter.”
“I still don’t think it will work,” Harriet said. “He can just say no. His grandfather can’t make him marry you, and why should he?”
Cat sighed. “Maybe it won’t come to that anyway. Maybe when I speak to him face to face, he will be willing to help without expecting me to marry him.”
“Are we going to Marylebone to knock on his door?” Harriet’s eyes lit up. “The carriage is fixed so we can try again.”
Cat knew that was the sensible plan. While Mrs. Dove-Lyon seemed to set on the idea of Cat marrying Sinclair Robertson and had warned her that there were other possible brides waiting in the wings, and that time was ticking, Cat had resisted the idea.
Marrying a man she didn’t know and already despised?
It would not be a good recipe for happiness.
Then again, if by doing so she could save her family?
Surely her happiness was a small price to pay for that?
But Harriet was right. It was sensible to speak to the Master face to face and see if she could persuade him to her point of view. If that didn’t work . . . then she might have to consider Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s suggestion.
Of course, just at that moment, Robert Sutherland’s face popped into her head.
He was smiling, his eyes warm, and his fair curls framing his handsome face.
She swallowed. Cat had never met a man for whom she felt an instant attraction like this.
It did not seem to matter that they barely knew each other.
Seeing him just now, standing on the path in front of her, had made her quite giddy with excitement and pleasure.
Why had this had to happen now, when there were so many more important things to be doing?
A voice whispered in her head You could be truly happy with him.
Perhaps that was true, but choosing to pursue her own happiness would mean condemning her family to eviction and misery.
How could she do that, even if she wanted to?
But if she met the Master face to face and he agreed to help? Then perhaps, just perhaps, she could have both. Although in Cat’s experience, real life did not usually turn out that way.
“After the ball, we can visit the Master,” she said now to Harriet. “We can try again then.”
“After the ball,” the two girls agreed with serious expressions.
“Do you know I can be quite frightening if I want to be,” Harriet said. “He won’t dare say no to your request.”
Cat stared at her, and then exchanged a look with Prudence. The two of them burst into laughter at the thought of sweet Harriet demanding the Master do as she said. Laughing helped to blow away her gloomy thoughts, and suddenly Cat did not feel quite so bad.
By the time Cat arrived back at her aunt’s house, she was thinking about what she had to wear to the ball.
She had brought clothing with her from Scotland, but she doubted now that anything she had was suitable for a fashionable London ball.
Aunt Jennie would know what was required.
Look at the wonders she had performed on Callum after he’d arrived!
Bothwell was sitting at the top of the stairs as if waiting for something to happen.
Cat smiled as she reached down to stroke his head.
“What a conundrum,” she said. “What would you do, Bothwell? Marry a man you had never met and heard only bad things about, or let your family down and grasp for your own happiness?”
Bothwell made a chirruping noise which wasn’t much help. He wound his sizeable girth about her ankles.
“There you are!”
They both jumped as her Uncle James appeared in the hall below.
“We have just received an invitation to a ball! I believe it is down to you, Cat.”
Her uncle was a handsome man, quite serious, although sometimes his brown eyes sparkled with secret amusement.
“I believe you have won a heart,” he went on. “Lord Harcourt, is it?”
Cat laughed awkwardly. “Oh no. I met him at the park. He is a friend of Mr. Sutherland, another gentleman.”
“Oh-ho!” her uncle cried, delighted. “You have two gentlemen on strings then? Your aunt will be pleased to hear it.”
Cat wondered uneasily just what her aunt and uncle had been discussing about her. If they knew the truth, she knew they would be very unhappy with her, and very worried. All the more reason not to let them find out.
She forced a smile. “I was going to ask Aunt Jennie what I should wear,” she said. “I don’t think I have ever been to a ball. We prefer ceilidhs at Bonnyrigg, as you know.”
“You don’t know how to dance?” James asked, shocked.
“Oh, I can dance. We can all dance. It is just that I haven’t been to anything as formal as this sounds. I fear I might accidently break into a jig.”
He grinned. “We can’t have that. Jennie will be able to help you. It seems to have become her life’s mission to help her nephews and niece when they come to London.” It was said with a great deal of warmth. “We both love you all dearly, Cat. You know that.”
Cat felt a warm flush. They were so kind. And it made her feel even worse to be lying to them.
“Thank you,” she whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat.
Bothwell made another chirruping sound, as if wishing to be included too.
“And don’t worry too much about the court case against Lord Armytage,” he went on kindly. “I have high hopes for that.”
But there was a look in his eyes that spoke of the opposite. Cat nodded, pretending to be convinced, and went on to her room, the cat trailing after her. Once inside she closed the door and sank down onto her bed and covered her face with her hands.
She didn’t have long to herself before Jennie was tapping on her door and demanding to come in and discuss what she would wear to the ball. As expected, her aunt already had some ideas.
“My dressmaker will be here this afternoon with some bolts of cloth and patterns, and no doubt her trusty measuring tape. All you have to do is stand still and let them do the rest.”
Now Cat understood how Callum and Donal had felt being kitted out in similar circumstances. “It was to please Aunt Jennie,” they had explained earnestly.
So Cat stood still and turned on request and made sounds of agreement, and when it was done, she was the proud owner of two new evening dresses to be completed as soon as possible.
The ball dress was to be ready the afternoon of the ball, which seemed amazing to one who’d sometimes had to wait weeks for a new dress to be finished and delivered from Inverness.
“You will look beautiful!” Jennie declared. “This gentleman won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”
Cat’s heart fluttered, despite her jangle of nerves.
When the day of the ball came, she donned her new dress and was astonished by the transformation.
She had always been described as a pretty girl, sometimes even beautiful, although usually the addendum of “country” was added to that description.
And she was a country girl, but now she looked quite different.
Any hint of naivety had gone. She was sophisticated, even a little aloof.
She had the London polish, on the outside at least.
“You look so much like your mother,” Jennie said, wiping a fingertip beneath each eye. “Luna was a stunning girl. And now here you are.”
Cat reached to hug her, feeling teary herself.