Chapter 4
Finally, blessedly, the waltz music ended.
Thane wished to hell that he’d escaped the party along with Struan earlier. Then he’d be drinking with his friend somewhere instead of worrying about this damnable female who set his teeth on edge every time she opened her mouth. And then her question: why did Brodie have to die?
As if Thane didn’t ask that over and over and over in the silence of his own head. He couldn’t give her the truth, the only answer he knew. It would be too harsh, for both of them.
Fortunately, he could hide his mind from Brodie’s shadow because dealing with her presence was distracting enough.
She didn’t even have to talk. During the waltz, there’d been a moment when she stopped talking and just looked at him with a distracted and dreamy gaze, and suddenly all Thane could think of was seeing that same expression on her face, but in a bedroom.
The thought took his breath away.
He’d immediately stepped away from her, cursing his body’s reaction to simply having a woman in his arms. Not just any woman. This woman. It was astonishing that Brodie’s ghost didn’t rise up out of the ground to wreak vengeance on his so-called friend.
God damn whoever invented the waltz.
It had been decried as a scandalous dance when it first arrived from the Continent years before, and rightly so. It was far too much fun to be able to embrace a beautiful woman in public and then spin her about till she circled back and was close enough to kiss.
And Catriona was an exquisite dancer, graceful and responsive to his lead. Even in her somber gown, which was totally unsuited in color or form for a party like this one, she outshone every other woman on the floor. A black swan among sparrows.
Thane reminded himself that he didn’t even like her. His body dearly seemed to need that reminder.
It was a good thing that after tonight, he would never see her again.
“Let’s get you back to your aunt, so that you no longer have to endure my company,” he muttered, escorting her from the center of the dance floor as the dance ended.
“Now that’s a wonderful idea,” Catriona said, though she still looked as if she were about to sob in despair.
Christ. He couldn’t return her to Brodie’s aunt with tears in her eyes. Those eyes as blue and clear as her brother’s had been. Far more suited to laughing than crying.
“Here,” he said, offering her a pocket square of fine white cambric. “I don’t want to be accused of making a woman cry.”
The lady didn’t so much as glance at the cloth, and instead produced one of her own from somewhere amid the folds of her skirts. How the hell had she done that? She didn’t even have a reticule, and the current fashions made ladies’ ballgowns so ethereal that one could practically see through them.
And yet Catriona Ross kept her own supply of handkerchiefs in hers. Black, of course.
“You’re prepared,” he said, stuffing his rejected offering back into his jacket, trying not to feel offended.
“It is common sense for any woman to see to her own needs,” Catriona said, even as she wiped the trace of tears off her pale cheeks.
“I don’t wish to be dependent on a man for anything, whether it be as insignificant as a handkerchief or as important as a home to live in.
To cede such decisions to men is to cede one’s own freedom. ”
She talked fast, the words raining down like precise little bullets into the corpse of tradition. Thane remembered Brodie once saying that his sister was a rather free-thinking person. Apparently, Brodie undersold the fact that she was an outright political radical.
“You’re a follower of Wollstonecraft and Robinson and all those other ladies, I gather.”
“I am,” she said, nodding firmly. “I hope to one day contribute a work as earth-shattering as they have done.”
“Are you active in women’s…issues, then?”
“I’ve written several articles for broad-minded newspapers in Scotland,” she said, glaring at him as if he was about to denigrate her for the act. “And I’ve written letters to the editors of narrower-minded ones, though they are too scared to print them.”
Color had risen in her cheeks as she warmed to this new subject. At least she wasn’t crying anymore. That was an improvement.
Now safe from being called out, Thane walked Catriona back to her aunt and his friends.
“Thank you for the dance, Miss Ross,” Thane said, this time observing the exact dictates of etiquette and not going a step beyond them.
It was very common for a gentleman to hint that he would call upon a lady at home on the day following such a party as this.
It was an acknowledgment that he enjoyed the dance and the woman’s company.
Thane wouldn’t be calling at Catriona’s home, because he’d rather eat broken glass than chat with her again.
Kai leaned over to him the moment they rejoined the group.
“What did you two discuss out there?” Kai asked, his eyes wide. “I swear I witnessed a whole opera’s worth of expressions in the span of one waltz.”
What could Thane say? He didn’t want to get into the discussion of women’s rights, which he was hardly qualified to speak on, not to mention that he didn’t pay attention to any sort of politics that didn’t directly impact the battlefields he fought on. Thane was a very practical man.
“We talked about her carriage accident earlier today,” Thane replied dryly, choosing the least controversial of her several conversational topics over the past few minutes.
Though something about her recounting of it actually did bother him.
Maybe just the sense that it had scared her more than she pretended.
Even before the war, Thane had been very good at picking up on people’s fear.
His time as a soldier honed the sense to a preternatural sharpness.
And he could tell that Catriona Ross was scared of something.
Damn it. He didn’t even like the woman, but he couldn’t ignore that feeling. For Brodie’s sake, he had to at least figure out the source of it. It was probably something inane. But until he knew, Brodie’s spirit wouldn’t let him rest.
During their short absence for the dance, the group had expanded slightly—there were now two more ladies, one wearing blue and the other green. Catriona already turned her attention from Thane to greet these other women. “Ah, Mrs Roberts. And Miss Fairchild. How good to see you both.”
The lady in blue (now identified as Mrs Roberts) gave Catriona an affectionate peck on the cheek. “You as well, Miss Ross, though I must say I did not expect to see you here!” She gestured vaguely to Catriona’s all-black ensemble.
“I certainly did not expect to be here. It’s a long story, involving a delivery and a broken carriage and an escaped bird, and some acquaintances of my late brother. I shall explain in full at some later time.”
“Oh, perhaps after the rally on Thursday next,” the lady in green (evidently Miss Fairchild) said, having eagerly followed the conversation. “You do still plan to attend the event, don’t you, Miss Ross?”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Catriona assured them both. “I have been working on my speech.”
“Excellent! You always make such wonderful points that I think you could convince even the most hidebound man of your argument.”
Thane sighed inwardly, watching this exchange.
Miss Fairchild seemed to view Catriona with an almost worshipful regard, and Catriona looked a little embarrassed at the praise.
“If I can convince anyone of the rightness of our cause, I shall count it a victory,” she said, glancing at Thane as she spoke.
Perhaps she considered him the proverbial hidebound man. Thane didn’t care.
Though part of him wondered just how convincing she could be. “Where is this revelatory speech to take place?” he asked, out of perverse curiosity. He added, “Just so I can avoid it.”
Mrs Roberts replied, “The League for the Advancement of Scottish Women gathers on the second Thursday of every month at the park near Greyfriars to speak out on topics relevant to our cause. And to gather with like-minded people who are brave enough to join us, sir.”
Catriona’s lip quirked. “Mrs Roberts is one of our very best advocates, as I’m sure you can tell.
” She turned to her friends. “I’m afraid Mr MacPhearson and his compatriots are not likely to see the worth of our aims. We would have better luck rallying a stone to our side.
Of course, if we waited for men to come to their senses, we would be waiting until doomsday. ”
Thane didn’t bother to respond, knowing a jibe when he saw one. Duncan raised an eyebrow, and Kai looked distinctly uncomfortable. Only Calan spoke, and when he did it was a very Calan response: “Well, if the audience is primarily ladies, it sounds like very good odds for me. When does it start?”
“One in the afternoon,” Mrs Roberts chirped, clearly of the opinion that anything to raise the headcount of the event was acceptable.
“Speaking of the time, we had better be going,” Aunt Tacita said, tapping Catriona’s shoulder. “I told the household we’d be home well before eight! They will surely think we’ve wandered off into the Highlands by this point.”
“Yes, I’ve kept you both too long,” their hostess agreed. “Thank you again for rescuing my little Treacle, Miss Ross. Mrs Murray, I did tell the staff to be ready to call for carriages at any time. You will excuse me from seeing you out to the front hall?”
Naturally, she would be expected to remain at the helm of her party.
Mrs Roberts and Miss Fairchild obviously just arrived, and Miss Fairchild was asking the location of the retiring room so that she could repair a rip in her hem that she’d noticed.
Thane couldn’t see a thing wrong with the gown himself, and part of him wanted to ask why such enlightened women cared about frivolous details like a skirt hem.
But he didn’t, because he didn’t want to risk catching Catriona’s claws in his face again.