Glasgow Rogue, page 4
He took another swallow of bourbon, more slowly this time. The interference and regulations would be rectified once the Committee for Organizing a Provisional Government put their full plan into action and declared Scotland’s independence. And when they did, he would be ready. He would become one of the most powerful rulers of the new country.
Last night’s meeting at the Trades Hall had been a godsend. Initially, he had reacted like the rest of the men when the group of women from that idiotic Club for Liberty and Progress showed up. Then the red-haired chit began to talk and Archibald thought perhaps the Fates were beginning to smile on him at last.
Not that he agreed with anything she said. Every man knew women weren’t capable of managing anything other than household staff. They certainly didn’t know a thing about how businesses were run.
Which was why Annie Ferguson was perfect for the job. She’d concern herself only with the inventory count—even a female could compare the number on an invoice to the actual product—and not question the contents of the shipments.
Archibald took another swallow. Every barrel of barley had a false bottom. Beneath that bottom, powdered opium—for which he used smugglers in order to avoid the huge excise taxes the English government demanded—was carefully packed for shipment to the state of Virginia. Once there, the barley and opium would be unloaded and replaced with tobacco for the return trip. The false bottom would contain gold, which he would meticulously count and then turn over to Gordon Monroe, the unscrupulous accountant at Henderson Shipping, to invest for him.
Unfortunately, the man had disappeared a few weeks ago. Archibald thought it had to do with Monroe’s connection to an insane woman who tried to attack the wife of Alasdair MacDonald. At least, Archibald hoped that was the case and not that MacDonald had discovered that Monroe was also altering the books at the shipping company.
Archibald finished his drink and stood to get another. Damn the MacDonalds too. When Alasdair left for London, Archibald thought the coast was clear. Then the brother showed up. Not only that, but Niall MacDonald had made it obvious he was the Ferguson hoyden’s watchdog.
Archibald poured more liquor and stood staring out his third-story window, although he paid no attention to the scene below. He needed Annie Ferguson as a foil. He wasn’t a man of violence. He much preferred aristocratic pursuits, but if Niall MacDonald interfered with the plans too much, there were dockhands on the quay that could make a man disappear into the murky waters of the Clyde.
Chapter Four
“How exciting! An actual job in a man’s world!” Cora exclaimed as Annie shared her news with the Progress Club in the tearoom the next afternoon.
“We’re so happy for ye!” Kiara added, while her twin nodded.
“What we really are,” Aileen said drily, “is jealous.”
Fenella practically bounced in her chair. “Tell us all about it!”
“Wait.” Deirdre opened her reticule and withdrew a small flask. “I think this calls for a celebration first.”
Everyone laughed and hurriedly drained the tea in their cups so Deirdre could pour the whisky she’d confiscated from her unsuspecting brother. Annie grinned too. They usually finished their meeting with a bit of uisge-beatha, but as Deirdre said, this was cause for celebration.
“Ye remember the man at Tuesday’s meeting who stood and said we should be allowed to speak?” When everyone nodded, Annie continued, “Such a kind, wonderful gentleman he turned out to be,” she said and told the group what had transpired, finishing with another grin. “Obviously, Mr. Haines is intelligent as well since he thought I would be perfect for the position.”
“Most men wouldn’t even consider hiring a woman,” Cora said wistfully.
“What did Niall—Mr. MacDonald—have to say about this?” Inis asked.
Annie shook her head. “He tried to dissuade me, of course. Said a warehouse was not the proper place for a woman.”
Aileen snorted. “Men think only one place is proper for a woman.”
Nairna frowned. “Men shouldn’t think all we can do is run a household—”
“I doona think Aileen meant that,” Deirdre said and poured a bit more whisky. “Most men think a woman’s proper place is in bed, lying beneath them naked.”
Nairna colored and her twin’s eyes went wide. Annie felt a twinge of empathy for them since they were the youngest of the group, barely eight-and-ten, yet there was a shred of truth in Deirdre’s comment. Annie had thought Broderick agreed with her when she’d told him of her ambitions, only to realize too late he only encouraged her to gain her trust. She felt her own face heat with shame and quickly took a swallow of whisky.
Deirdre glanced at her and raised both brows. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Nae,” Annie said. No one, not even her mother, knew what had transpired. Her mortification wasn’t so much that the man had ruined her, as far as marital prospects went, but that he had laughed when she’d asked if he was going to propose after the deed was done. He had laughed and asked why he should. She hadn’t been much older than the twins. Just a foolish girl. “Nae,” she said again.
“Perhaps we should go back to the original topic,” Inis said. “Did Mr.MacDonald escort ye here today?”
Annie gave her a cursory glance. Inis certainly seemed to be interested in Niall since Tuesday. Not that Annie cared. “Aye,” she said, “but he went to the marine office to do some work.”
“Is he going to let ye walk home by yourself this time?” Aileen asked.
Annie tried not to squirm in her chair. Niall had made her promise not to leave without him. He’d even made her say the word twice, as though she didn’t understand what the word meant. “I told him I’d wait.”
When Aileen arched a brow, Inis intervened. “I think it very chivalrous of him.”
“Since when do we need chivalrous men?” Deirdre asked. “That’s just another way of ordering us around.”
“Is it? I must admit, I was a bit uncomfortable at the Tuesday meeting.” Inis shrugged. “Mr. MacDonald did make for an imposing figure draped in all that weaponry.”
“He wanted to make a statement,” Annie replied.
The twins giggled. “He did.”
Fenella laughed too. “I can just see him escorting Annie to the warehouse dressed like some medieval warrior. That ought to ensure Annie’s safety and impress even the dockworkers.”
“Is he planning to escort ye to work every day?” Aileen asked.
Unless she planned to shimmy down the rose trellis by her window before dawn every morning, yes. Even then, Annie wouldn’t be surprised if Niall were waiting on the ground. The man had an uncanny sense of timing. “He did mention something about it.”
Aileen snorted again. “If we want to be respected as independent women, we don’t need a man dogging our footsteps.”
Annie had lost that argument after the Virginia Street incident. “He calls it escorting me,” she said, hoping she sounded nonchalant. She didn’t even want to think what the group would say if they found out Niall planned to work with her as well.
“I think it is a courteous thing to do,” Inis said. Annie gave her a guarded look. How much of Inis’s interest was personal?
Not that Annie cared. She didn’t.
****
“Ye can leave me here,” Annie said to Niall the next morning as they approached the door to the office warehouse. “I doona think I’ll be accosted in the next fifteen feet or so.”
Niall’s jaw set. “I will see ye inside.”
Annie stopped, her hands on her hips. Good lord. The last thing she needed was for Niall to walk in with her, wearing his tartan and all the same equipment as he’d worn to the Tuesday night meeting. She doubted the king’s guard was that well armed. “If ye escort me inside, it will look like I cannae handle this by myself. I am supposed to be the manager.”
“And I am going to make sure every man understands that,” Niall said and started walking toward the door.
“What? Wait!” Annie hurried after him and grabbed his arm. The muscle flexed beneath her fingers, as hard as granite. She dropped her hand quickly. “Ye cannae just go in there demanding such a thing!”
“I willnae demand. I will just tell them they will have to deal with me if—”
“Nae!” Annie managed to get herself in front of him, blocking his path. He halted, so close that if one of them moved the slightest bit, she would be against his chest. A broad, chiseled chest that was probably equally hard as his arm. His gray eyes turned dark. For one dizzying moment, she felt almost pulled toward him, to close the space between them. Then she stepped back and licked her suddenly dry lips. “I must earn the respect myself. Ye cannae force it.”
His gaze followed the movement of her tongue and then he looked back into her eyes. “Aye. Ye will have to earn their respect.” He stepped around her. “But having them see ye have a protector will make it easier.”
Annie started to refute that, but the stubborn man had already reached the door and was now holding it open for her. She sighed and picked up her skirts to climb the three steps. “Nae one word,” she hissed as she passed him.
Niall gave her an enigmatic smile which she chose to ignore and stepped inside.
The office was larger than she’d thought. Her attention was immediately caught by the open area on her left. It contained an ensemble of Sheraton furniture. The dark blue velvet cushions of the cherrywood sofa contrasted nicely with the maple veneer along its back. A low table of the same wood fronted the sofa and two padded chairs sat on either side, lyre-backs carved with bow-knotted wheat ears and sprays of other foliage. A large watercolor of what Annie assumed was a southern plantation house on a cream-colored wall. Light blue satin brocade drapes hung across the one window that fronted the street.
To her right was the expected work counter with a large, rolltop desk behind it and shelves full of ledgers along the wall. Mr. Haines rose from the desk.
“You are right on time, Miss Ferguson.” As he glanced at Niall, a slight flicker of annoyance crossed his face, which he quickly masked.
Annie couldn’t blame him for that. Niall’s insistence on coming inside was unneeded. “I always try to be prompt.”
“Excellent,” Mr. Haines replied and then gestured. “How do you like the office?”
“It looks like a parlor,” Niall said before Annie could respond. “I thought this was a place of business.”
Annie shot him a warning look and then smiled at Mr. Haines. “I like it. It feels homey.”
“My point. I see no reason not to surround myself with a few creature comforts even if…” Mr. Haines paused and gave Niall a pointed look. “…it is a place of business.”
Niall seemed oblivious. Instead, he pointed to a door on the far side of the room. “Does that lead to the warehouse?”
“Yes, but it’s restricted,” Mr. Haines said as Niall crossed the room and opened the door.
Niall glanced back. “I am representing Henderson Shipping and Henderson Shipping stores some of its stock here, nae? That gives me the right to inspect the place.” He turned and disappeared without waiting for an answer.
Annie bit back a groan. She knew what kind of an “inspection” Niall was about to make. And he was going to get an earful of what she thought about blundering through the warehouse with all his weaponry. “I am so sorry…” she started to say and then was surprised when Mr. Haines just smiled.
“Perhaps it is good that your…escort…sees where his products are. That way he will know everything is on the up-and-up and can only hold himself responsible for any mistakes in his shipments.”
“That is verra accommodating of ye, Mr. Haines,” Annie said. She couldn’t imagine any mistakes being made regarding shipments, especially since she would be the one in charge of making sure counts were accurate, but she did appreciate Mr. Haines not taking offense. What a kind, understanding man he was.
****
Niall finished making entries in the shipping ledgers and laid down his pen, suppressing a yawn. Accounting was definitely the most boring thing he’d ever done. He glanced at the brass clock on the wall, startled that it was already late afternoon. He’d spent hours with the damn books. No wonder he was bored.
Getting up to put the ledgers back on the shelf, Niall wondered how Annie’s first day on the job had gone. When he left her this morning, Haines had been explaining something about a running inventory control. Annie had hardly looked up, but Niall suspected that was because she was still upset with him.
He was pretty sure he had made the proper impression on the men working in the warehouse this morning when he’d done his “inspection.” He’d counted fifteen of them as he’d walked the narrow paths between boxes and barrels piled nearly to the ceiling. Niall also made sure he had met every man’s eye before he left as well as told several that he considered Annie—Miss Ferguson—to be under his protection. Those men had promptly looked at the array of weapons he carried and nodded their assent.
Annie would more than likely want to throttle him for that if she found out. He doubted she would, though, since the men were not likely to admit such a thing to her. But they weren’t likely to forget it either, even if Niall showed up the next time wearing breeches and waistcoat. He’d simply exchange his sword for a musket and make sure at least two knife handles showed from the tops of his boots.
“I heard Archibald Haines hired Miss Ferguson,” Gustav said as Niall closed the door to Robert’s office and came into the larger front one.
“How did ye find that out?” Niall asked, not bothering to hide his surprise.
“Haines Consolidated is one of the largest warehouses for shipping, and some of the dockhands have relatives working there.” Gustav shrugged. “Word travels fast along the quay. The news probably got here before you did.”
“Um,” Niall replied noncommittally. It seemed men gossiped as much as women did. “I did a walk-through of the warehouse this morning, just to make sure it was a safe place for Annie—Miss Ferguson—to work. Everything seemed to be in order.”
The harbormaster nodded. “Haines runs a tight operation. He makes sure his deliveries arrive to the ships on time and, ever since one of the dock hands dropped a barrel of barley and cracked the lid, Mr. Haines always makes sure everything is loaded by the same workers each time so no damage occurs.”
“That sounds a little drastic over a barrel of spilled barley,” Niall said and hoped Haines wouldn’t be too harsh on Annie, especially since she wasn’t trained. But then, if Niall heard anything like that happening, he’d just have a talk with the man. A strong talk, if needed.
“Ja,” Gustav agreed, “but the man’s father was a tobacco lord and Haines is determined to get back the wealth that was lost.”
“I cannae blame him for that,” Niall said.
“I guess not,” Gustav answered. “A lot of the heirs to those lost fortunes meet regularly at Walker’s Hotel on Buchanan to discuss how to get their fortunes back.”
“Now that the shipping lanes have reopened, they will have the opportunity,” Niall said.
“What they want is government reform,” Gustav replied. “Lower tariffs on both imports and exports. The merchants complain all the time that the price of goods is too high.”
“And the trades people, like the weavers, complain their wages are too low.”
Gustav nodded. “That sums it up. There is a storm brewing as sure as the winter ones sweeping in from Iceland.”
Niall didn’t particularly like the sound of that and mulled it over as he walked over to the warehouse to collect Annie. For centuries, the Scottish clans had skirmished amongst themselves. There had even been major clan wars. The English had never been welcomed north of the Borders, even with the Act of Union that made them all one country. It seemed to Niall that that unrest remained, only to take a somewhat different form, now that the world was becoming industrialized. He only hoped the warehouse, being in somewhat of a neutral position of simply moving goods, would not be caught in any of the unrest.
Niall heard Annie’s laughter even before he entered the office. Opening the door and stepping inside, he saw the reason why.
A tall man hovered near Annie’s shoulder, leaning much too close as they both studied what looked like a map on the counter. The fellow’s long blond hair was tied back in a queue and he wore only a waistcoat over a linen shirt that had its sleeves rolled up and remained open at the neck. Why was the man dressed so informally? And, a better question…who the hell was he? Niall had taken inventory of the workers that morning and this man hadn’t been present.
Niall frowned and placed a hand on his belt, causing the knives and sword to rattle.
Annie looked up at the sound. Niall’s frown deepened as the man looked up too. He was probably Niall’s age and looked like a bloody Viking with eyes the color of glacier ice. And just as coldly penetrating. Niall widened his stance, a thumb on his sword hilt. “Who are ye?”
Annie sighed and shook her head. “Good afternoon to ye, too.” Then she turned to the big brute. “Allow me to introduce Niall MacDonald. He is staying at my mother’s boardinghouse.”
“I am also Annie’s personal escort,” Niall said, deciding to use the familiar name rather than the formal. He saw something flicker in the other man’s eyes briefly and stared him down. “I still doona ken who ye are.”
“John Kingsley,” he answered brusquely. “I am the foreman for the warehouse.”
That at least explained the informal attire. “Ye were nae here this morning.”
This time, a brow rose and the man looked at Annie.
She sighed again. “Niall decided to make sure there were no villains or brigands lurking about in the warehouse to accost me whilst I counted boxes.”
The Viking laughed. “I assure you, Miss Ferguson, that I will take care of any who attempt such a thing.”
Niall barely managed to refrain from scowling. Protecting Annie was his job, dammit. Once a Highlander vowed to do something, he did it. And he wasn’t checking for criminals in the warehouse. He was making sure—very sure—that the workers understood what—who—awaited them if they insulted Annie in any way. “Ye were nae here this morning,” he repeated.
