“It compliments your color wonderfully.” She pushed the curtain open and helped Clarissa step up on the dais.
From this angle she could see how the dress fit from all sides. It was loose around her waist and hips, not so much around her bosom.
Measuring tape caught between her lips, Alma moved around her, taking measurements, and grabbing pins from the pin cushion attached to her wrist and stuck them where they were needed to tighten up the fit. When she was done, she stepped back and Clarissa sucked in her breath.
The deep red color of the dress played off her thick black hair and the two melded together to make the perfect match.
“Ye look beautiful,” Gwen whispered. “Ye must get this one, Clarissa. ’Tis fate.”
Well, she didn’t ken about fate, but she would be lying if she said it wasn’t as if the gown had been made with her in mind.
What would Alexander think? She scoffed. Why was she thinking such thoughts? They would only hurt her in the end.
But it would make the perfect dress for Yule. If she could even hold off on wearing it for that long. Who kenned. Maybe a special occasion would arise that would warrant it.
She smiled at Alma. “I will take it.”
*
“Do ye thinkit will really work?” Alexander asked warily.
His friends nodded.
“If the bastard doesna care about the sheep, then he’ll be looking to offload them,” Malcolm said. “And right now, it looks as if it may be your only choice.”
Unfortunately, Alexander agreed. They had brainstormed different ideas all afternoon at the club until finally settling on hosting a livestock auction. Of course, they wouldn’t host it themselves. They didn’t have the means, and it would be way too obvious that they were trying to draw Kitt out.
Now, they were back at Millwool further discussing their plans.
“I will talk to Archibald Allen about the auction and what we are looking to do. I think he will be fine in calling it. Besides, he owes me a favor,” Finlay said.
Alexander raised an eyebrow in question at his friend. “Why e’er would Allen owe ye a favor? Ye arena e’en here much.”
Finlay dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Actually, he owes my father. But doesna matter, I can collect in his name.”
“What will your father say?”
Finlay shrugged. “Naught most likely. ’Tis been a while since he has been to Argyll. I dinna expect him to return any time soon. Dinna fash.”
Alexander blew out a breath. “I pray ye are right.”
But he worried that somehow, some way, something would go wrong. What if the auctioneer Finlay knew did not want to participate? What if Kitt refused to enter the flock up for sale? Surely, the man must be ready to rid himself of them. Alexander did not see him as the type to hold on to such creatures, especially since he hadn’t the slightest idea of how to care for them.
He had his savings he had stored away. He could only hope that was enough to win the bid.
Finlay stood, ready to leave to meet with Allen.
Alexander followed him to the door. “I wish ye luck. Please give him my thanks.”
Finlay nodded and then was gone.
He could hear Nicholas, Gunn, and Malcolm conversing in the study. He should rejoin them, but Clarissa had invaded his mind. He knew she and Gwen had returned before them. Their carriage was here and the coachman that drove them into town was carrying boxes inside.
He was surprised they hadn’t crossed paths since apparently, they had arrived back at Millwool only minutes apart.
Torn between his friends and Clarissa, Clarissa won out, so he went on a search to find her. It didn’t take long. She was exactly where he expected her to be.
The library.
