Kat scooted off the bed with an energy she was far from feeling and went to the wardrobe. She threw open the door and waved at the assortment of clothing that hung there. “I’ll apologize as soon as I finish deciding what I’m going to wear to Fiona’s and Malcolm’s ball next week.”

Annie brightened. “A ball? Och now, that sounds promising.”

“I don’t know about that.” Kat straightened her shoulders and stared at the gowns, most of them too plain to be of use. “I wish I had time to have a gown made.”

Annie hopped up on the edge of the bed so that she could watch Kat pulling first this old gown and then the next out of the wardrobe. “We should order one now fer the next time ye are invited. If they do. I’m a wee bit surprised they remembered ye this time.” She sniffed her disdain loudly. “They’ve been somewhat remiss aboot that in the past.”

“No, they haven’t. They always invite me. And I always refuse. They know I don’t like their puffed up affairs and I know they would find my company at such a formal event quite onerous. But this time…” Kat pulled out her best gown. Of sky blue silk, it was quite fashionable. Or had been, several years ago.

She held the gown before her and looked in the mirror, mentally comparing it to the gowns Fiona wore. Good heavens, how fashion changed.

Kat sighed and dropped the gown on the bed beside Annie. “What is different about this ball is that Fiona’s sister, Murien, is going to be there, and she seems to think I’ll be an embarrassment.”

Annie made a face. “Och, that one. She’s catty, she is.”

“Yes, she is.” And rude and possessive, too. And if one was so inclined, one might notice that Murien’s eyes were just a wee bit too closely aligned. “She’s a haughty vixen, and I don’t mean that in a good way.”

“They say she runs with the devil,” Annie said in a mysterious undertone.

Kat had to grin at that. “I can’t argue with you there. She’s also very determined that every man in a fifty-mile distance should pay her homage.”

“Oh ho! I suppose ye’re talkin’ about St. John. So ye have Miss Spalding worrying that you’re getting too close to him, eh?”

“I am not getting too close to him.” Not yet, anyway. Tomorrow, now…that might be another story. Although, now that Kat had tasted Murien’s poison, things seemed far less clear. If Kat did allow Devon closer, wouldn’t her feelings become even stronger? Even more obvious to anyone who looked at her?