The frown was replaced by a smile. “It didna look like ye did, but I wanted to make sure my brother was nae giving ye unwanted attentions.”
A giggle threatened to burst out, but she managed to push it down. “He wasn’t. It…just happened. I was…just happy to hear I could work in Inverness.” She looked at Greer. “Maybe it would be better if you didn’t mention what happened to Simon or your father?”
“Doona fash. My lips are sealed.” Greer studied her for a moment. “But ye might do well to have a care around the two of them. Especially Da.” She hesitated. “He wants Niall to marry Fiona Gordon. He will nae take it kindly if he thinks ye are interfering.”
Charlotte felt like one of the castle’s horses had kicked her solidly in the stomach. Marriage plans? That had not occurred to her. Did Niall agree? It probably didn’t matter if he did, given that many—most—marriages in the eighteenth century weren’t based on love but on logical reasons like alliances and land and power. Her romance-writing mind had forgotten that.
She swallowed hard. “Thank you. I’ll remember.”
She needed also to remember that getting attention from Niall—however wonderful it felt—didn’t define his intention. Women who casually involved themselves in trysts were not held in much respect. She would have laughed if she didn’t feel so much like crying.
The eighteenth century wasn’t so different from the twenty-first after all.
Chapter Ten
“I would like to introduce Miss MacGregor to ye,” Niall said formally the next morning when they arrived at the family solicitor’s office.
The man he introduced her to was perhaps just past middle age. He had a full head of caramel-brown hair that showed silver tips on his sideburns. He was also physically fit, not soft or pudgy as she would have expected for someone who spent most of his time in an office or at a desk in this century. Then again, life was neither luxurious or easy in these times.
The older man smiled. It was not a particularly warm smile and didn’t reach his eyes, but it didn’t seem forced, either. Professional, maybe. Somewhat like her college professors had used when welcoming students to a new semester. Approachable, but also aloof.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” she said.
“Likewise,” he returned although he didn’t offer his hand. “I am Fergus Gordon.”
Gordon? The family solicitor’s name was Gordon? As inFionaGordon? Charlotte glanced around the office quickly, half-expecting some female to emerge out of the shadows, but no one did. She took a breath. Maybe Fergus wasn’t the father. Gordon was a clan name, after all. Lots of them around, probably. She looked up at Niall expectantly, but he appeared to be studying a painting on the wall behind the desk.
The hair at her nape prickled. Was he deliberately avoiding looking at her? He’d been very quiet on the ride over, but she’d assumed that was because Simon had accompanied them to pick up supplies while they were in town. Would Niall not have warned her that she’d be working for the father of the girlhisfather wanted him to marry? Then again, why would he? Niall didn’t know Greer had told her about Fiona. And—this stung a little—maybe he wouldn’t care if he did know. She was an outsider, a stray guest. Fraser family matters would have nothing to do with her.
Except, of course, they did or she wouldn’t be here.
“I think ye’ll find Miss MacGregor capable of clerking duties.” Niall said now.
Those words brought her back to the present. Capable? Justcapable? She found her voice. “Yes. In addition to keeping your office organized and your files up to date, I can also take notes and transcribe conversations with your clients. I can even go out and do whatever necessary research you will require.”
Fergus blinked and for a moment she thought she saw something close to amusement in his gray eyes. Niall’s smoke-colored gaze had darkened, though. Had she said too much? He looked more quizzical than angry, though. Probably because women didn’t run around doing research these days? Women were rarely allowed to even work in business offices. She needed to remember that, if she weren’t going to be asked questions she couldn’t answer without sounding like someone needed to be put into an asylum.
“I have someone to do the leg-running these days,” Fergus answered, “but I am quite sure he will be happy to relinquish the office routine to you. We seem to have a continuously growing stack of papers that need filing.”
Filing. Vi would have a fit that someone with a master’s degree in English literature would be put to filing papers. Luckily, Vi wasn’t here. Charlotte knew that in the eighteenth century, filing papers in an office was considered a prestigious position. She wouldn’t complain. She had, after all, wanted toclerk. Filing was definitelyclerical.
She managed not to laugh at the literal irony of it.
****
Niall observed Charlotte in his peripheral vision as he pretended to focus his attention on the painting—which he’d seen dozens of times—hanging on the wall behind Fergus’ desk. She’d given him a look of inquiry as though she were expecting him to explain something, but he wasn’t sure what it could be, other than his own ambivalence at being at the solicitor’s office in the first place. He wasn’t in agreement with his father’s scheme, nor was he particularly in favor of Charlotte’s wanting to earn coin, although he couldn’t fault her for it, either.
He wouldn’t lie to himself. He didn’t want Charlotte to leave. In spite of his father’s and brother’s suspicions—he had to admit her explanation of her arrival was a bit shaky—he still didn’t think she was a spy. He admired the fact that she didn’t seem to be afraid of being alone in what was basically enemy territory. His father and Simon would probably argue that proved she was a spy—how many women were that brave or independent?—but to him, those were admirable qualities. He couldn’t deny that he was attracted to her, as well. Attracted. If he wanted to really be truthful with himself, he’d admit he wanted her in his bed.
Enough on that line of thinking.
“I think ye’ll find Miss MacGregor capable of clerking duties,” he said and then grew thoughtful at her answer. She wanted to go out and about and do “research”? He knew what his father and Simon would say to that.Opportunity to meet with her messenger. Luckily, Fergus cut that notion short.
“I suppose I should find Simon and leave ye here to get your bearings,” he said to Charlotte and then looked at Fergus. “What time do ye want me to return?”
“Midafternoon, I think,” he said. “That will give Keir time to show Miss MacGregor how things are organized and what needs to be done.”
“Kier?” Charlotte asked.
