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But the pressure was certainly on to track down the criminals as soon as possible.
Kathleen murmured an apology as she tried to slip by the butcher’s wife.
Mrs. Harrison, a comfortably plump woman with a kind face, moved aside. “Bless me, Miss Calvert, I’m squeezing ye against the wall. I dinna wish to wrinkle yer pretty dress.”
“It’s rather a crush, isn’t it?” Kathleen replied.
“Aye, it’s a grand party. Have ye met Mrs. Ferguson? She’s Dunlaggan’s linen draper.”
“Not formally. It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Ferguson.”
Mrs. Ferguson, a middle-aged woman in a well-tailored gown of gray silk, returned her smile. “The pleasure is mine, especially since I get to see yer wonderful gown up close. That’s a lovely shade of satin, Miss Calvert. And Brussels lace, I take it?”
“That is correct.”
Mrs. Harrison shyly touched the lace trim on Kathleen’s puffed sleeve. “Lady Kendrick has some right pretty gowns, ye ken. But I’ve never seen the likes of this one. Ye look like a princess.”
“To tell you the truth, I feel overdressed,” confided Kathleen.
She’d only bought a few evening gowns with her, and this one, white lace over a rose satin slip, seemed better suited to atonball than a country party.
“Ye look a treat,” said Mrs. Ferguson. “We don’t often see such lovely things here in Dunlaggan.”
“But all the draperies you’ve done for the manor house are wonderful,” Kathleen replied. “I especially love the tartan silk drapes in the dining room.”
“Chattan plaid. My lady’s clan, ye ken.”
“If her ladyship doesn’t mind, I’d love a gown made in that fabric. I think it would be very dashing.”
The two women exchanged a glance.
“There’s more than a wee bit of purple in that plaid,” Mrs. Ferguson said in a dubious tone.
“That’s why I like it so much. It reminds me of the vibrant heather I see in the glens.”
The butcher’s wife smiled. “Well, I reckon ye have the dash to carry it off. It’s nae wonder the men are sneakin’ peeks at ye, especially our vicar. He’s fair smitten, I’ll wager.”
“Who can blame him?” said Mrs. Ferguson. “Such a pretty lass in such a pretty dress.”
Kathleen mentally winced, having dodged the vicar all evening.
“Of course, Vicar Brown is nae the only man with a fancy for Miss Calvert,” Mrs. Harrison added to her friend.
Clearly, the ladies of Dunlaggan were not shy about exchanging a wee bit of gossip.
“Mrs. Ferguson,” Kathleen hastily said, “shall I stop by your shop in a few days to see about that dress?”
“I would be that honored, Miss Calvert.”
“Splendid. I’ll see you soon.”
“And be sure to have a dance with Mr. Brown,” Mrs. Harrison said. “He’ll be fair chuffed if ye do.”
Kathleen beat as quick a retreat as one could make in a room packed to the rafters.
She finally reached the wide, arched doorway that divided the main drawing room from the smaller one behind it. The doors between the two had been thrown up to create a ballroom. By filling the space with dozens of candelabras, vases of mums, and swags of heather draped over windows and doorways, Sabrina and the staff had transformed the old-fashioned pair of rooms into a festive space for country dances and Highland reels.
The cheerful crowd seemed to be properly appreciative. A colorful gathering, everyone easily mingled, regardless of wealth or station. Even the village ancients had deigned to attend, and were now lounging on padded benches against the wall as they chatted with Graeme. Gentlemen farmers and crofters discussed the state of their crops, the women chatted about children, gardens, and prized recipes, and the young people flirted as they eagerly waited for the dancing to commence.
