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He remembered all of it now. The man had been a bit doddering, striking Dougal as an addle-brained but unthreatening sort of fellow. Feeling the daughter’s unsettling gaze on him now, he wondered if he hadn’t underestimated the situation. If the man’s purpose was to do business, why had he sent this girl in his stead? “I recall, he said he’d just one child. A daughter. So you’re she. ”
“Yes,” Elspeth replied, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I am she. ”
Was she surprised she’d been recognized? Had her father sent her to spy?
Dougal’s mind raced. “Your father is new to the sheep business, as I recall. He brought some papers here, outlining his vast enterprise. ”
The lass looked shocked to hear it. He smirked, thinking he’d been right—the man Farquharson was simply a doddering old grump.
But his smile faded when another detail popped into memory. “I recall seeing the initials EF on those papers. Yet your father’s name is Albert. ”
Perhaps he was being overly suspicious, but his new slaves-for-cotton venture was just taking off. He was on the brink of making a great fortune, and it was not the time for young misses to be nosing around.
She lifted her chin. “You read correctly. ”
Dougal registered her every movement, realizing he’d misjudged. A shy and plain-faced creature she may be, but the chit wasn’t meek. “I suppose EF stands for ‘Elspeth Farquharson’?”
She gave a tight nod.
So she was in charge of the accounts, not the father. “Good on you, girl. You’re brighter than I took you for. I’ll wager many folk underestimate your like. ” He narrowed his eyes. The only thing worse than a scheming woman was a scheming, impoverished woman. “Why are you here? And don’t insist you were in the neighborhood. ”
The girl was silent, measuring. Was she at a loss, or was this part of her ruse?
“Your father has a peculiar way of broaching a potential business relationship,” he said, filling the silence.
“My father doesn’t know I’m here. ”
“Indeed?” He was genuinely taken aback at this latest wrinkle. He suspected she played a deep game, but he’d been swimming in deep waters long before she was born.
He found himself smiling. To his surprise, he was not unamused. It’d been years since he’d been in the company of a young female. Moreover, he loved a lively discussion, and intelligent debate was something sorely lacking in his dockside venture. He suspected if he plumbed deeper, this Elspeth would hold up admirably in a mental crossing of swords.
“Would you like to hear what I think?” he asked. “Your father told me about his business. I worry how profitable such a harebrained venture might be. I think you worry too. ”
He could see in her pursed lips just how on the mark he’d been.
But then she shocked him by snapping, “You should worry more about your own presumptions. ”
Dougal laughed outright. “What a singularly puzzling thing you are. ”
The lass might look green enough to be his granddaughter, but she was a clever one. And, he realized, not unpretty at all. Quite fair, in fact.
He wondered if the girl could be brought to heel. He’d never married—business had always taken precedence— but he saw now that a man might go far with a partner of pleasant countenance and bright mind by his side. Even better that her family was in the woolen business.
A sheep farm could be just the thing to explain away his new profits. Elspeth’s father was in desperate financial straits. Time for Dougal to see just how desperate.
He reached across the table and patted her pretty little hand. “Perhaps we should settle on an alliance, you and I?”
Chapter 20
Elspeth studied Aidan’s profile and felt a pang. She’d been working distractedly on her tallies when he arrived, and when he’d asked to see them, she’d been happy to oblige. But now he was poring over the account book in such earnest, doing his level best to help her.
As she was doing her best to help him.
“Twenty head isn’t many of the cursed beasts,” he was saying, pointing to a figure. He tilted the book toward the window to aid her, even though the day wasn’t dark enough yet to hamper her vision. “But they’ll account for more wool than this at shearing time. ”
She stared blindly at the number, wondering who Dougal Fraser really was. The strongman he’d been entertaining when she arrived had done nothing to put her mind at ease. He’d seemed a shadowy, criminal sort.
“You’re not just shearing it into sacks. If you grade it”—he met her eyes, mistaking her silence for confusion—“grade it … meaning … to open up the fleece, aye? Tear out the hard bits, clean it up. It increases its worth in a higher proportion to the labor it requires. ”
