“Aye, Aaron! I’ll be back with him straight away!”
Chapter 11
Callum looked around the immense room and fought to keep his countenance light. Decorum dictated that he could have easily gotten out of attending the event, having so recently lost his mother and still being in mourning, but important business affairs were often discussed at these things. He stood by the doorway and waited, his fingers clutching his empty punch glass, hoping that the early pleasantries would end soon so that they might retire to the card tables. The most important decisions were always made while clinging to a hand of cards, and there are some who believed that wars were ended and begun during tiresome games of whist.
“I didn’t think you’d make it this evening,” his friend Peter Grain said, coming up beside him with a fresh cup of punch. Callum refused it with a wave of his hand, holding up his own cup.
“I’ve had all I intend to,” he remarked. “It’s stronger than I care for, and this is not the kind of place to let your guard down with a fuzzy head.”
“Quite right,” Peter agreed, smiling as he placed the spare cup on a nearby plant stand. “How are you getting on now that you’re home again?”
“Not well, I’m afraid,” he answered, sighing lightly. Peter’s expression turned to one of concern, so Callum felt compelled to explain.
“Good God! You have the thief locked up at your home?” Peter exclaimed when Callum finished relaying the details.
For some reason that was lost even on him, Callum bristled at the word “thief,” at the way Peter seemed to sneer slightly as he said it. Surely this woman was no ordinary pickpocket, no hardened criminal.
“Yes. What else could I have done? At first, she was insurance against the thieves giving chase and causing us further harm. Now, she serves as my only leverage against ever seeing that bag and its contents again.” Callum’s shoulders slumped a bit as he explained. “It is my great fear that it was all for nothing, though. I fear I shall never see it again.”
“I, for one, have only one fear, and that is being trapped by a cunning young heiress or her doubly-cunning mother tonight,” Peter joked. “I must keep my wits about me in order to thwart their attack and remain on the offensive!”
“I know you only speak in good humor,” Callum replied, grateful for the change in topic, “but you’re more right than you know. Watch the room and observe.”
Everywhere they looked, small clusters of attendees at Lord Northam’s ball had formed. Mostly segregated by sex, the small groups of men seemed oblivious to the gatherings of females who navigated the room, drifting just close enough to be noticed but not obtrusive while still keeping their sights set on their targets.
For their part, the ladies moved about casually but only due to their practiced air of indifference. It appeared as though they had sought years of schooling in the proper technique, what with the methodical way they all sauntered around the room, speaking behind their fans.
“Good God, my aunt was right,” Peter said in an awed voice. “We’re being hunted.”
Callum laughed, but it was a joyless sound. “Not we, my friend. You, perhaps. But I am far too clever to fall for any flattery, eyelash batting, fan fluttering, or the sort. I maintain no illusions about improving my station or my fortune by marrying well, and I have no obligations to make an auspicious match.”
“No? How did you ever manage that? My father has already stated that he’ll be handling my prospects himself in order to maintain our control over our holdings.” Peter shook his head sadly.
“And that doesn’t trouble you? You don’t care much for having a say in whom he chooses to be the lifelong Mrs. Peter Grain?” Callum asked, genuinely curious.
“Not much, no. Look at them,” Peter answered, jerking his head towards the assembled guests. “They all look nearly alike. Identical white gowns, identical gloves, identical styling to their hair… how would one choose this girl from that if not for who had the best prospects?”
Callum looked, and for the first time he felt as though he truly saw what Peter meant. The floor only a few steps below them was a sea of practically identical fashions and attire, for both sexes he realized. What distinguished one guest from another?
“The woman I met on the road is wholly unlike these delicate creatures,” Callum remembered. “No doubt she could best any of them in a sparring of wits… and physical strength as well!”
Instead of repulsing him, it made Beatrix all the more intriguing to him. What manner of woman was as beautiful as any of these present and as obviously well-educated, but who held absolutely no regard for the practiced behaviors that Peter had described?
“Only the most genuine, unassuming person,” Callum surmised, “one who cares nothing for appearances and puts loyalty, livelihood, and family above all else. A rare being then…”
“If you’ll excuse me, I think I shall avoid the dancing,” Callum explained, setting down his glass and straightening his jacket. “I don’t find that I’m much up for it now.”
“I understand, and will make your excuses if anyone inquires,” Peter replied, clapping him on the shoulder affectionately. “I’m afraid I was already requested before the evening ever began, and cannot avoid it.”
Callum walked out of the suddenly stifling room and out into the adjacent garden, immediately relieved by the cool night air. Other guests meandered about in twos or threes, having their own private conversations and paying him little mind. Once or twice someone raised a hand in greeting or spoke some brief salutation, but for the most part, he was left to his own thoughts.
“Hiding from someone?” a gently lilting voice asked behind Callum. He startled and turned to look, then smiled with relief.
“No, My Lady,” he said, addressing Lord Northam’s eldest daughter, Mary. “Only taking in the view and the quiet and allowing my thoughts to run amok for a time.”
“Ah, I remember now. How clumsy of me, I’m most sorry for your recent loss,” she explained, a look of genuine sorrow on her face.
“Not at all, though your sentiments are much appreciated,” Callum replied, putting her mind at ease. “It does take some getting used to though, doesn’t it?”
