“Do so.” He lifted up the edge of the curtain, his gaze on Kat and Devon. “I will be down shortly,” he said absently, as if he’d already forgotten Fiona’s existence.

She stood a moment more, waiting for some sign. Some indication from her husband that he cared. But no such reassurance was forthcoming.

After a long, silent moment, she turned on her heel and left the room, and Malcolm, behind her. Disconsolate, she made her way to the sitting room.

Murien whirled on Fiona as soon as she entered. There were lines of tension on Murien’s usually smooth face. “Thank God you have come. I was dying of ennui.”

“Yes, it has been a rather dull day. Perhaps because of the rain.”

“That didn’t keep St. John from going out,” Murien said in a discontented voice. “I don’t understand how he can continue to see Kat. Surely the attraction, if it ever was that, has paled by now. The time has come for us to separate them.”

Fiona sighed at the waspish note in Murien’s voice. She hated it when her sister was out of sorts. Which lately was more oft than not.

“Where is St. John now?” Murien asked. “I am so tired of sitting around, waiting on him to return.”

“He is in the courtyard saying good-bye to Miss Macdonald. It appears they were caught in a rain shower.”

Murien stood and raced to the mirror over the fireplace. “Why didn’t you say so?” She patted her hair. “Come! If we go out on the terrace, we can see them from there.”

“Yes, but—”

“Come along. I can’t go alone.” Murien turned on her heel and swept from the room.

Fiona stared at the empty doorway. She was beginning to believe that her sister was a wee bit selfish. Sighing, she followed Murien down the hall to the library and then out on the terrace.

They had a prime spot to witness Devon’s goodbye to Kat. Though he never touched her, there was something intimate about the way they stood. Watching them, Fiona felt a wrench of jealousy. Why should Kat have what Fiona had been denied?

Murien, meanwhile, was having similar thoughts. It burned her soul to see a man, any man, that she deemed hers, paying attention to another woman. But there were ways to deal with such inconveniences. A word here, a word there.

More was won by innuendo than by fact. Murien found a smile. “Do not fear, Fiona. I will make certain our dear friend Katherine appears at our wondrous ball.”

Murien watched as Devon said one last thing to Kat and then left the courtyard. He strode away, an amused expression on his face.

Murien decided it was quite telling the way Kat gazed after him, a rather wistful look in her eyes. “I can certainly take care of that,” Murien murmured.