She could not care less.
“Talk to mama,” Catriona suggested. “She may intercede on your behalf.”
Anna sighed, disgruntled. “You know papa will not change his mind on this.” Her brows pleated in a delicate frown. “An alliance with the powerful McKendricks is too valuable for that.”
Much as Catriona would like to dispute the point, there was no doing such a thing. Her sister had the right of it. The McKendrick sister, Aileen, had married the great McDougal; the McKendrick laird, Drostan, had a McPherson wife, and now his son had been declared the heir to both clans. These alliances alone would be enough to cover almost the entirety of the network in the Highlands, not to mention the secondary agreements of produce and transport of goods. The McKendricks were quite simply invincible in this scenario. An alliance with them had no chance of being ignored.
And now it got down on black and white. Any possibility of going around it had disappeared.
The only thing Catriona could do was give her sister support. She took the other girl’s hands in hers and tried to convey encouragement. Anna gave her a sad smile and squeezed her sister’s hands in return.
“You’re home at last,” Marie McTavish greeted her daughters as they walked into the entrance hall. “Luncheon is served.”
Catriona and Anna took off their bonnets and cloaks and followed their mother into the family dining room.
At the table, Marie spoke again. “We are invited to dinner at the Tremaine’s tonight.”
This piece of news made Anna’s face light up. “Fantastic. I am sure Miss Ellie will be there. She’s sure to tell me about her engagement.”
In the same proportion the younger miss cheered up, Catriona’s outlook wilted. “Can I stay home for once, mama?”
“Of course not, Emily dear.” Her mother called her by her English name more often than not, especially when the older woman wanted to remind her eldest of some obligation or other. “I need not remind you that Lord Tremaine will be in attendance. It’s his house, after all.”
Catriona would not dare confess her low opinion of Lord Tremaine nor any other Lord she had ever met. “I see, but I could run into him in the park on another day,” she suggested, hopeful for a deliverance.
“Catriona Emily,” her mother said in a warning voice, “you’ve been fooling the poor man around for years. It’s time you let the match go through!”
Not if she had a say in the matter, no. The prospect of marrying a man that appeared in feeble watercolours disgusted her. Images of what being his wife would look like came to her head, and these images would be comic if they were not so tragic. He would politely knock on her chambers, ask if he might come in, lift her nightgown, and politely…well…you know. He was a polite bore, to be sure.
But to avoid any unnecessary conflict, she answered meekly, “Yes, mama.”
The Earl of Arleigh, Lord Stanley Tremaine, lived in a sumptuous townhouse a few blocks from the McTavish’s.
Catriona had followed her maid’s directions and dressed in a proper, demure peach gown, no more and no less than the occasion required. She felt as if she were going to a fancy-dress ball. These English rags mean nothing to me, she thought without a benevolent streak in it. The Scottish attire worn in her clan was so much more beautiful. The black and white plaid of the skirts and shawl held comfort, prettiness and practicability in their favour. Together with the men in their woollen tartan, her father’s lands gained a view all of its own. The longing for her corner of the world assailed her yet again. To keep her composure, she shoved it aside and plastered a smile on her face. The evening would drag on forever, she feared.
The Arleigh house lay not far from the McTavish’s, which meant that the carriage ride took mere minutes. The house was built in the latest fashion, shining with marble, crystal chandeliers and plush furniture. They alighted from the carriage and joined the line to greet their hosts.
The three McTavish ladies wove their way to the host. Catriona, the second to curtsy after her mother, gained a dutiful compliment from Lord Tremaine. “Miss McTavish, it’s an honour to have you here,” he said in a bland tone after bowing slightly.
The Earl of Arleigh did not display a tall frame, but his dark blonde hair and nondescript blue eyes made him personable in a somewhat watery way. His expression lit on whomever came behind her.
“Miss Anna,” he said, his voice deepening an octave lower. He extended an eager hand to catch her sister’s. “Your presence will light my humble house in the brightest gold.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw her sister give him a blinding smile. “You’re too kind, my lord,” she responded, giving her gloved hand for him to kiss and which he did so in such a gallant manner that even Catriona was impressed.
Hmm, interesting, she observed in passing.
But soon the function engulfed her and the episode slipped from her mind.
Catriona felt the dinner did drag on and on as uninteresting conversations ran over her head. Her attention completely oblivious to her surroundings, she just waited for the moment she could take refuge in her chambers and breathe freely.
“My Catriona would like that very much.” Her mother’s utterance of her name tore Catriona from her reveries.
About to get their carriage and finally go home, the
older woman spoke the last to Lord Tremaine.
“A stroll in the park tomorrow it is, then,” he answered.