Chapter Ten
Sinclair was aware that his attendance at the ball could go very wrong. He shouldn’t have agreed to come at all, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. The thought of dancing with Cat MacKenzie made him feel slightly unhinged and more than a little desperate.
He was in love with her. It was ridiculous and fantastical, but it was the truth. They barely knew each other, and yet he felt as if he knew her totally and completely, and that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
There was only one problem. Or maybe there was more than one.
He groaned and then jumped as his valet cleared his throat. “Your jacket is to your liking, sir?” the man asked, looking anxious. He probably thought Sinclair’s behavior was a sign of disapproval.
“Yes, very nice,” Sinclair replied hastily.
It was a nice jacket, a dark blue one in the latest fashion and very tight.
He was wearing pantaloons rather than the satin breeches often worn at balls, and his hair was tamed with pomade so that it was less wild than usual.
His curls might behave themselves, at least for an hour or two.
Even as he thought it, one sprang up as if to demonstrate the futility of his attempt.
What would Cat think when she saw him? The way her eyes had lit up that morning in the park made him think she enjoyed his company, but that was all moot when he remembered what would happen after she learned the truth. She would despise him and he wouldn’t blame her.
He made sure to arrive at the ball early, probably impolitely early, so that he could greet Christopher and his mother without subterfuge.
He reasoned that no one could overhear him if no one else was there yet.
If his friend was surprised to see him there before the time on his invitation, he said nothing, while his mother was a pleasant woman who greeted him warmly.
“We are expecting a very good turnout tonight,” she said with satisfaction. “I am hopeful my little ball may be the hit of the Season!”
“A crush, do you mean?” Christopher added with a grimace.
Sinclair was glad to hear it. A crush would help him disappear among the crowd.
He listened to the two of them bickering, and it felt familiar, reminding him of his own mother.
He missed her, and he usually tried to remember the good times they had together rather than the upheaval the loss of her had caused him.
As for his grandfather, he tried not to think of him much at all.
Let Lord Armytage remain in the far north in his bleak castle.
Soon, more guests began to arrive, and it was definitely a crush.
Sinclair slipped between the groups of chattering people, very careful to avoid anyone who knew him.
He was not a social animal. His own outlet was the Lyon’s Den, and it was probably only other members of that gambling club who might recognize him.
And of course, his commoner friends were not here—the wheelwright and the young apprentice carpenter who helped with his projects, as well as the workers in the lumber yard where he bought his wood.
In fact, this was the first ball he had been to in quite some time.
Soon the dancing began, and he still could not see Cat anywhere. He was peering about, wondering if this had been a waste of time, when he felt a light tap on his shoulder.
“Mr. Sutherland,” that lovely, familiar voice said behind him. “Here you are.”
He turned, and any regrets he might have had about coming vanished immediately.
Cat was wearing a gown that seemed to float about her, and her bright hair was fashioned into a smooth coronet about her crown.
No curls and ringlets for Cat MacKenzie.
She was beautiful and elegant, and she made all of the other women present appear gaudy.
She was smiling at him, waiting for him to respond, and he realized he was gawking at her, and if he wanted her to stay then he needed to speak.
“Lady Catriona,” he said, bowing over her hand. All he could think to add was, “There seem to be a great many people here.”
“Yes. I’m finding it hard to breathe.” She glanced about her with a faint frown. “My aunt says that means it is a hit, which is all any hostess could want. She is about somewhere, my aunt I mean. She is my chaperone tonight, and I wanted to introduce her to you.”
No, no, no!
“Let us dance first,” he spoke quickly. “The next dance is just starting.”
She murmured agreement and squeezed his hand.
He realized then that he was still holding hers, her gloved fingers looking delicate against his.
They took their places, and he savored this moment of being close to her, watching her serious expression as she concentrated on her steps.
Sinclair had been taught to dance by one of his grandfather’s hirelings and had no trouble dancing, although he could not remember ever enjoying it as much as he did now.
“Oh, this is fun!” Cat said, after he had twirled her around. She sounded breathless, her smile wide and her eyes bright. “I love the ceilidhs we have at Bonnyrigg. They are more boisterous than this, of course, but no one worries about that. You would enjoy them, Mr. Sutherland. You should come.”
She stopped as soon as she had said it, and shot him a doubtful glance, probably wondering if she had overstepped.
“I would love to,” he responded warmly. “Boisterous sounds preferable to sedate. Sometimes I find London society a little too restricting.”
She mused on this, and they danced a moment in silence. “I can see that it could be a wee bit restricting,” she agreed. “I’m not sure I would want to go to a ball every night, but now I am here in London, I think I need to force myself to sample a few.”
She was laughing at him, her eyes sparkling.
“London has a lot to offer.” He hesitated. “I am probably not the best person to ask when it comes to social events,” he admitted. “This is only the second ball I have been to.”
She stared. “Really? Was the other one so terrible it put you off? I feel privileged that you agreed to come here tonight.”
“It wasn’t exactly the highlight of my first season,” he admitted.
In fact it had been a nightmare. His grandfather had stood at his side, his gaze assessing every mistake Sinclair made, and he was so nervous he could barely speak.
He had decided then that he would not do this again, and when his grandfather had returned to Scotland, he had found other ways to fill his time.
Probably the sorts of ways the old man would not agree were gentlemanly enough for the man he expected him to be.
Not that he was going to tell Cat that.
He decided to change the subject. “Tell me about your family.”
If she noticed his sleight of hand, she didn’t say so, but smiled and proceeded to tell him about her parents and her three brothers, their wives and her niece and nephew.
She spoke for some time, her voice lilting and warm, showing how much she loved them all.
But of course she did, he reminded himself, if for their sake she was willing to come down to London and confront him and ask for his help.
It would be nice if someone loved him that much, so much that they would be willing to sacrifice anything for him.
Not that he expected Cat to sacrifice herself! He just wanted her to see him as the sort of man she wanted to spend her life with.
“I am going on. I’m sorry,” she said with a laugh. “Tell me about your family, Mr. Sutherland.”
No, not going to happen. Luckily the dance ended, so he didn’t have to lie again. Sinclair was leading her back to a clear spot by the wall, when a woman intercepted them.
“Cat, there you are! I thought I had lost you. Not a good admission for a chaperone.”
She resembled Cat enough that he knew at once this was the aunt. Unlike Cat’s auburn locks, this woman’s hair was fair turning to gray, and her eyes also gray. At the moment, they were turned suspiciously on Sinclair.
“Aunt Jennie,” Cat greeted her warmly. “Here is my aunt,” she declared, with a smile that suggested everyone should rejoice. “Aunt Jennie, this is Mr. Sutherland. The Snowden sisters and I met him the other day. Did I mention the carriage?”
Aunt Jennie looked a little bewildered, so obviously she hadn’t heard about that, but she still held out her hand to Sinclair. “How do you do? My niece makes friends wherever she goes. I have trouble keeping track of them.”
That put him in his place. He bowed over her hand and said how do you do in return. When he straightened, she was still regarding him with a slightly unfriendly air.
“Mr. Sutherland?” she said. “I have not heard the name. I have been in London long enough to know most of the people who move in the social circles.”
“I have not heard of you either, Countess,” Sinclair said, and then fervently wished he hadn’t when the countess’s eyes narrowed.
Cat gave an anxious laugh. “I have no partners for the next dance. Shall we?”
Aunt Jennie clicked her tongue at her niece’s forwardness, but Sinclair was glad of it. It gave him a chance to escape before matters got worse.
“My aunt is worried something I do will upset my father the duke,” Cat said quietly, as soon as they were out on the dance floor. “After what happened with my brothers, he thinks I’ll do something just as scandalous. And Aunt Jennie is certain he will blame her.”
“Like marry the Master of Armytage,” he spoke before he had thought better of it.
Cat’s smile faded, and her expression turned serious. “Dinna joke. I am beginning to wonder if it might come to that.”
Sinclair sought for something to say. He hit on, “Maybe he isn’t as bad as you think?”
She stared up at him in surprise. “Do you know him?”
“Not—not really,” he managed. God, what was wrong with him? Couldn’t he just enjoy this moment with her? Why was he making it strange when this chance may never come again?
“Well, I have heard he is the sort of man who doesn’t have a care in the world apart from himself.
He spends money like water and drinks himself into a stupor every night, and then sleeps most of the day.
His grandfather seems happy to let him do so, as long as he is thought of as a gentleman.
Evidently that is how a ‘gentleman’ behaves. ”
Her voice was scathing, and he was shocked by her words.
Was what she was saying true? Was the man she was describing really Sinclair?
Had he become such a despicable creature?
He hadn’t thought so, and he didn’t now.
Well, not entirely anyway. It was true he had done some of those things and wasted the past couple of years of his life, yes, but surely he wasn’t completely beyond redemption.
He knew that with Cat at his side that redemption was possible.
He could be Sinclair Robertson again, the boy who had seen his place in the world so clearly and been so happy.
If she believed in him, then anything was possible.
“Not everything is completely dark, because there is always some light,” he said carefully and with frightening honesty. “Maybe the Master just needs someone to bring out his better qualities.”
She was still staring at him, and then she gave an uneasy laugh. “Anyone would think you wanted me to marry him,” she said, sounding hurt.
“No,” he said quickly. “I don’t want that.”
“Are you sure?” she retorted.
“Oh, I am very sure,” he said.
She was searching his face, trying to read his thoughts, and he let her. He wanted her to see how he felt. Color rose to her cheeks and she gave a shaky laugh. “I wish—” she began.
But the moment couldn’t last. A voice called out from the crowd to the side of them, loud enough to be heard through the music and the chatter. “Master!”
Sinclair’s heart jumped. Someone here knew him! He looked about wildly, trying to pin down the culprit.
Cat was also looking about, saying, “Is he here? Is that man here somewhere?” She pulled away from Sinclair. “I must find him!”
As she started away in the direction of the voice, Sinclair went the other way, through the crowd and out through a side door.
He was in a panic, but he couldn’t stay and have her discover the truth, not like this.
He needed time to gather his thoughts and work on how he was going to tell her.
Because if she was going to find out the truth, and she would, he must make it as painless as possible for them both.
His hand was on the front door, ready to leave and escape out into the night, when a voice spoke behind him.
“Where on earth are you going?”
It was Christopher, of course it was. Sinclair took a deep breath and turned to face him. His friend’s face was startled and a little hurt.
“Are you really going already? I thought you were enjoying yourself.”
Sinclair’s shoulders sagged. He could lie again or change the subject, but suddenly he had had enough. He had to tell him. It was the fair thing to do. He looked Christopher in the eye.
“Is there somewhere we can talk?” he said. “Privately?”
Christopher paused, and then a smile flickered on his lips. “What have you done, Sinclair?”