“It’s been my pleasure,” Keir said, “but ye are a verra quick learner.” He glanced at Niall and then smiled at Charlotte. “I look forward to learning about your other talents as well.”
Talents? Just what talents was Keir referring to? Niall started to glower but became aware of his brother watching him as Keir went to retrieve Charlotte’s cloak and then helped her on with it.
An elbow lodged between his ribs. “Yedidwant Keir to find out about what the lass may be up to,” Simon whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “Ye’d do well to remember it.”
Niall felt his teeth grind as he forced a smile to no one in particular. His brother was right, but he didn’t have to like it.
Chapter Eleven
By the time Charlotte had worked for three days in Fergus Gordon’s office, she felt like she had done a good amount of organizing. She’d rearranged some files for better access according to subject matter, although it seemed that the solicitor kept the personal files of his clients in his own office rather than in her area. She had also begun to feel like it washerdesk, although she hadn’t put any personal items in it or on it. Not that she actually had personal items, but a small vase of flowers might be nice. Not the season, though, nor did she want to appear territorial.
At least, Keir seemed to be satisfied with the work she’d done. He’d checked in this morning and then left, saying it looked like she could handle things. His father had seemed satisfied too, so she was beginning to breathe a bit easier.
She’d just started working on invoices that needed to be sent out when a stranger walked in. He wore the blue bonnet with its white rosette that identified him as a Jacobite, and although he wore no uniform, he had the regal bearing of a commander. His voice, while low and well-modulated, held authority.
“Is Fergus in? ’Tis important,” he said.
“May I say who’s calling?” she asked.
“David Alcho.”
Charlotte got up, knocked on Mr. Gordon’s door, then poked her head inside. “There is a Mr. Alcho here to see you.”
Fergus stood up. “That’sLordAlcho, son of the Earl of Wemyss.” His tone sounded like she should have known. “Show him in at once.”
She did as he instructed, feeling a bit chastised. How was she to know the man was an earl’s son? She’d almost forgotten that Scots did have peerage titles just like the English, and he hadn’t called himself a lord. She was about to close the door when she heard him speak.
“Major General Huske is marching this way from Edinburgh.”
‘Ye’ve checked your source?” Fergus asked.
The other man chuckled. “I am the source. General Murray left me in charge at Linlithgow. My scouts reported roughly four thousand men.”
“About half the English army in these parts,” Fergus said.
“Aye. I suspect General Hawley will be bringing the rest in another contingent.”
“Ye are most likely right,” Fergus replied. “Do ye want me to send word to the prince at Bannockburn?”
“I’ve already done that, as well as alerting Murray and Drummond, since the duke is heading up the second regiment at Stirling. They need to be prepared for what’s coming.”
‘Yes and…” The solictor’s voice trailed off.
Charlotte heard his footsteps approaching the door and hastily took her seat at the desk. A moment later she heard the door click closed. She was trembling, whether from fear at almost being caught eavesdropping or the actuality of hearing about generals and dukes and battle strategies. This was real. She remembered something about the battle at Falkirk being only a partial victory.
Would the Frasers be called on to fight? So far, Simon’s father had managed to keep most of his clan at home, although there were regular daily routines the men practiced. She didn’t want Niall going off to battle. Was there anything she could do to stop him? She felt she had an obligation to tell him what she’d heard, but she didn’t want that knowledge to encourage him to go.
She was still in a quandary when the front door to the office opened again. This time it was no soldier or aristocrat, but Charlotte’s breath caught anyway. The one person she had hoped she wouldn’t have to see, but apparently this was not going to be a good day.
Fiona Gordon walked into the room.
Before either of them had a chance to say anything, Fergus’ door opened and he and his guest stepped out. Mr.—Lord—Alcho smiled widely when he saw Fiona.
“Miss Gordon. How very nice to see you again.”
Fiona dimpled. “’Tis my pleasure to see ye, my lord.”
“I wish I had time to visit with ye today,” Alcho said, “but business calls.”
