“Nae,” he replied and then realized Annie had outmaneuvered him with that last comment. Damnation! Then another thought came to him as he recalled something he’d seenon one of the invoices in the marine office earlier. He smiled and turned to Mr. Haines. “Does your warehouse hold woolens and barley for Henderson Shipping?”
The man looked surprised, but it was quickly masked as he nodded. “It does. Why do you ask?”
“I am temporarily managing Robert Henderson’s office here in Glasgow,” Niall replied, “so I will be stopping by the warehouse myself.”
Annie made that strange sound again that he couldn’t identify. He looked at her, allowing his smile to widen into a grin. “It looks like we might be working together, after all.”
****
Archibald Haines locked the door of his walk-up flat on the East End and walked over to the serving cart that held a decanter of bourbon and poured a half-snifter. The liquor wasn’t premier stock from either France or the States. The decanter wasn’t Waterford crystal, either. But soon,soon, he would be able to afford the best.
He tossed the liquor back and poured another, taking this one with him to the brocaded sofa beginning to show wear in spots, much like the scratched mahogany table in front of it. Those items would be replaced soon as well.
Archibald looked around the room. The wallpaper was still intact and showed no signs of yellowing. The carpet—not Aubusson—still looked relatively plush. There really was nothing wrong with the place, other than that he longed for one of the mansions on Buchanan. Hedeservedone of those. His father had owned one, only to lose it—along with the family fortunes—when the Revolutionary War brought the tobacco trade to a halt. Damn the Americans. Damn the British. And, for that matter, damn the French too. With all the sea blockades in place, nothing had been easy to trade. Now, at long last, goodswere coming across the Channel and going across the Atlantic too.
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 thecontentsof 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 ofuisge-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.”
