Selina laughed. “Should I serve boar?”
Penelope considered the question seriously. “No. He might believe we are sniggering at his misfortune. Besides, I am quite sure he knows how he went wrong and is not likely to repeat it.”
“Soup, then? That can be problematic for someone not used to formal dining. Surely he will not expect a four course meal?”
“No. Just soup and dessert will do. We can always expand the menu if necessary.”
“Syllabub?” Selina asked with a wicked smile. “That’s always tricky.”
“Exactly. Raspberry syllabub, I think. That should do it. We will eat, and afterward I will tell him where he went wrong, and what he needs to practice. Then I suppose we should move on to appearance. His hair was rather long.”
“But very nice all the same,” Selina said a little dreamily.
Penelope ignored her. “And did you see his neckcloth? Not to mention his jacket and pantaloons. He looked like he was off to fight ten rounds in a pugilism contest...” She stopped because the image of MacKenzie shaping up for a fight, all focus and muscle, had distracted her.
“Or like he had just rolled out of bed,” Selina added.
That thought was even more distracting. Penelope went on smoothly, as though she were not plagued by visions of a naked MacKenzie. “Does he have a valet? I doubt it.”
“It certainly looked as if he didn’t care what you thought of him.”
“He’ll care after tomorrow.”
Selina smiled a secretive smile. “Yes, I think he will be looking for your approval.”
Penelope wasn’t so sure. There was something about Callum MacKenzie that made her think he would not be an easy man to master. She had caught a glint of stubborn resistance in his brown eyes. He might claim he wanted to succeed, but it was not always easy to turn yourself into someone else. She knew that only too well.
“If MacKenzie wants to find himself a well-bred wife then he will have to do as I say.”
“I have a feeling he will be eager to please,” Selina said.
There was something sly about her expression that Penelope wasn’t sure she liked. Did her maid have a secret she wasn’t sharing? Sometimes, with Selina, it was better not to know.
*
Callum reached hisaunt’s home and gave the knocker a forceful rattle. Hocking, the butler, a sour-faced fellow, barely acknowledged him as he opened the door, but Callum was usedto it. He was a barbarian, a Scot, and there were plenty of Englishmen like Hocking who neither trusted him nor wanted to know him better.
That would change, he hoped, once Penelope Armstrong taught him the rudimentary skills he needed to enter polite society. It wasn’t necessary for him to be the perfect picture of a gentleman—indeed, as a rough and ready Highlander, he was very sure he would never attain that standard. He just needed to become a reasonable prospect for the wife of his choosing.
But that was the trouble, because as soon as he had laid eyes on Miss Armstrong, he had wantedher, and Callum could be stubborn and determined when it came to something he wanted. Why was she teaching etiquette and manners when she could be putting them into practice in drawing rooms all over London? Was there a reason she was not already married? He needed to discover more about her, and he thought his Aunt Jennie might be able to help with that.
He expected to find Jennie in the parlor, busy at her desk. She liked to deal with her correspondence in the mornings, before callers began knocking on her door or she went to make calls of her own. After spending her early married life in Edinburgh, she had taken to London society like a duck to water, and seemed completely at home.
Luna, Jennie’s sister, was very different. She and Callum’s father Maxwell had preferred a free and unfettered existence. Maxwell might have been a gamekeeper, but he could turn his hand to many other trades, and so he had in the years the family had traveled about Scotland. Callum had learned to love nature and to feel at one with it. Returning to Bonnyrigg and living such a different life had been hard for them all, but it was the promise they had made to Callum’s grandfather, and so they had kept their word.
Bonnyrigg might have been a far different life from roaming the countryside, but Callum still had his freedom. He could get up in the morning and set off to wander about all day, not returning until nightfall. He had always thought of his growing up years as perfect, and it was only now that he realized how woefully unprepared he was for the position he would one day inherit. How could he ever feel comfortable in the drawing rooms of aristocrats? Now, Penelope Armstrong was a different matter. He could imagine her at Bonnyrigg, charming the crusty old nobles who had been friends with his grandfather but looked down upon Maxwell and Luna and their children. He could see her hosting dinner parties in the great hall where even the King wouldn’t feel out of place.
But he was getting ahead of himself.
He peeped around the door and found Jennie at her desk.
“Callum!” She smiled as she rose and stretched up to kiss his cheek. She was not like Luna, having fair hair instead of red, and grey eyes instead of blue. Not the silvery grey of Penelope Armstrong, however—again, her image popped into his head and he spent a moment admiring it.
“Do tell me how it all went,” Jennie said. “Was Miss Armstrong as clever as everyone says? I wasn’t sure at first, with her reputation, but my friends all thought she was the best option for you. She turned Mr. Hanbury’s daughters into ladies in the blink of an eye.”
Callum didn’t know who Mr. Hanbury’s daughters were, but he suspected they shared the same ambitions as himself, and were eager to enter society while being completely unsuited to do so. Just how many misfits had Penelope turned into successes?
“Miss Armstrong has agreed to take me on as her client. I start tomorrow at ten o’clock in the morning.”
