Page 17 of The Lyon Deception

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.