Feigning disinterest in the name, he made a mental note to investigate the name later. “’Tis uncommon for fathers to teach their daughters bookkeeping.”
“True, but he wanted me to be self-aware when it came to my future assets.” She let out a cynical laugh. “I will say that neither of us had foreseen my current plight. As you can tell, I have no assets to keep books over. But I am very knowledgeable when it comes to such things.”
Gunn thought about the current state of his books. The money he was losing as if he was running it through a sieve. Mayhap, he could have her review the ledgers from when he was away and identify where things started to go wrong.
“I canna offer ye much. A pound a month, a room, and your meals.”
Her eyes widened. “That is more than generous.”
“We have a deal?”
She jumped up from her chair, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “Yes, yes. Thank you.”
“Dinna thank me yet. I’ve a specific job for ye that may have ye running for the door.”
She shook her head. “I doubt that. When shall I start?”
He appreciated her eagerness, but he needed time to gather the ledgers.
“On the morrow?”
“Yes. That is perfect. Where shall I report?”
“Here, after ye break your fast.”
“I will be here.” She moved to leave, but he stopped her for one last question.
“Jocelyn?”
She spun and looked at him. “Yes?”
“Is your last name also Bixby?”
She shook her head. “It’s Townsend.” With that she rushed from the room.
He blew out a breath, and sat staring at the ceiling, his hands cradling his head. What in the hell was he doing? Straightening, he reached into his desk drawer and withdrew a piece of parchment, ink, and a quill. He penned a letter to his friend, sharing his concerns, and asking him to look into the matter.
She didn’t share the same name as her father. There could be many different reasons why. He may not be her real father. Which in that case, it was very kind of him to take on Jocelyn as his own. Or she could be married. Widowed.
Malcolm could find out those things easily, he was certain. He had served under Wellington and done reconnaissance work for the effort. He’d even uncovered a traitor that had been selling secrets to the enemy.
Gunn remembered they were actually due to meet in a few days. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to clear his head. How had he forgotten that? He would ask his good friend for his assistance in the matter when they met.
If her father was indeed a lord, why would she come to Scotland? Was he cruel? And how did she not have any money?
More so, why would she want to work? Gunn could easily name off a handful of young women that he kenned and were daughters of titled men. Work was the last thing on their minds. They were too busy trying to find a suitable husband.
Certainly, Malcolm would find out.
So many questions swirled around his head about the circumstances of her mysterious appearance.
‘I am no maiden, sir.’
Her words kept playing over and over in his head. Had she been compromised in some way? He didn’t believe so. She wasn’t broken. She had a strong spirit. Defeated? Aye, that was a better descriptor when it came to the bonny woman.
Ugh, he pushed his hands through his short hair. He would drive himself daft thinking about all the possibilities.
He slipped the letter that he’d written into the top drawer of his desk. He would see Malcolm faster than they could exchange correspondence, so there was no need to make sure Flora got it to a carrier.
