The minutes ticked by. Callum tugged at his cravat, wishing it weren’t so stiff and tight, but knowing he could not undo his uncle’s valet’s work. Would the guests at the ball give himthatlook? The “there he is, the Highland barbarian” look. Penelope would tell him to ignore them as being beneath him, and under no circumstances to feel the need to explain or retaliate. Whichwas all very well, but Callum was not used to being judged by strangers, and he did not like it.
Yes, he had been a fool at that fateful dinner at the Yeos’. Too much whisky and seeing that damned boar eyeing him from the table. One day he may laugh at it and think it amusing, but right now, he did not.
There was a sudden movement to one side of the room. A flicker of grey running to shelter behind a rosewood chair.
A mouse! Probablythemouse.
Stealthily, he moved toward it, and leaning down, peered into the small gap between the back of the chair and the wall.
This close, it looked undersized and pinkish rather than grey, as if it had only recently left the nest. Under his gaze, it seemed to shrink even more, attempting to make itself invisible. Aunt Jennie’s cat, Bothwell, was a tabby-and-white monster that roamed the house at will, and Callum wouldn’t blame any mouse for being terrified.
When he was younger, Callum had had a large collection of creatures, and among them were several mice, so he was not at all afraid of them. He reached down, closing his hand gently about the small body.
“Come here, you wee thing,” he whispered. “I won’t let Jennie’s cat harm you.”
The mouse shivered but did not try to escape. He liked to think it understood him and trusted him. He straightened, still whispering to it, and became aware of his aunt’s footsteps approaching across the marble floor of the hall.
Quickly, Callum slipped the mouse into the pocket of his evening jacket just as she entered the room.
“I have sent someone to fetch Bothwell,” she told him. “He needs to earn his keep, and he has been getting very fat lately. He will soon hunt out this mouse.”
Callum murmured agreement, as if the creature weren’t safe in his care at this very moment.
Jennie came to a stop before him, running her gaze from his buckled shoes and stockings and silk breeches, up to his emerald-green waistcoat and forest-green jacket. His cravat was neatly tied, and his sapphire pin was placed squarely in the center of it, while his neatly trimmed hair was combed back from his forehead so that his closely shaven face was on full display.
“Do I pass?” he asked finally, not sure if he was amused or alarmed when she seemed unable to find her words.
To his horror, he saw that Jennie had tears in her eyes. She sniffed. “You look so much like your father, Callum. So braw. I wish he could see you.”
He grinned and gave her an impulsive hug, which she returned warmly.
“All the same,” she said, with a wrinkle between her brows, “I forgot to ask where this ball was being held. It is for practice, is it not?”
“That was what I was told. I am sure it is just what I need to get me ready.”
“Hmm. If it is the sort of ball Miss Armstrong is invited to, then I’m not sure it is entirely proper.”
He blinked, waiting for clarification.
Jennie made an impatient sound. “Really, Callum, do I need to explain? The woman’s reputation is damaged, so if she is invited to this ball then the other guests must be of a similar standing. I understand why she wants you there. She seems sincere in her desire to give you the polish you need. You must feel familiar in such a setting, and she can put you through your paces on the floor, but all the same, I am not happy about it.”
“I overheard her maid Selina calling it a Bohemian Ball,” he admitted.
Jennie clicked her tongue. “Perhaps you shouldn’t—” she began, and he could see her wavering.
Callum hurried to reassure her. “I promise I will be on my best behavior, Aunt Jennie. And you need no’ worry. Did you forget I am a grown man, after all?”
“Thatis what worries me,” she said. “You are a man and a handsome one, but in London ways, you are still an innocent, Callum. Imagine how furious Luna would be with me if anything untoward were to happen to you.”
Untoward,he repeated silently to himself and tried not to chuckle. His aunt seemed to think that at twenty-five he knew nothing about the goings on at this so-called Bohemian Ball. While it was true that he wasn’t a rake, like his brother Rory, neither was he an innocent virgin.
“Aunt Jennie, there is no reason for you to worry yourself,” he said firmly. “Miss Armstrong wants me ready for your ball, to smooth over any rough edges I have left, so that I will not disgrace you. Or myself.”
She sighed and then smiled. “Very well. Off you go then. Are you meeting Miss Armstrong there?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps you should take Angus with you?” she said, clearly having second thoughts again.
