Page 32 of The Lyon’s Lass

Pulling out the pile of documents, she found bills from just last week.

It appeared the steward was not keeping up with the accounts as much as he was the whisky.

It was no matter. Her father’s books had been a mess when Maisy had taken them over. It would take some time to catch everything up, but then it would be done and it would be easier from there.

Except her numbers were not matching what the solicitor had told Iain was in the account. There was money missing. A fair amount of it. With no records of where it went.

She was in the process of calculating the discrepancies when she was startled by someone who had entered the room.

“What the devil are you doing, woman?” the man shouted at her. He was not so large as Iain or Jack, but he was bigger than her, so she immediately stood so she was on her feet and could run if needed.

“I am Lady Kesson, and while it is true I am a woman, I’d appreciate if you addressed me properly.” She stood straighter in the way she did when she scolded her brothers for acting like beasts.

“Very well, Lady Kesson,” he said her name with quite a lot of condensation and a sneer. “These are my books and shall make no sense to a female.”

“Who are you?”

“Mr. Garrow. I’m the steward of Kesson Castle. So if you will leave me to my business…”

Maisy couldn’t help but wonder if he’d meant the books or the bottle in his hand when he spoke about his business. Either way, it didn’t matter, because he was making a mess of the books at the least, and stealing at the worst.

“I’m afraid I cannot do that. You see Lord Kesson has asked me personally to review the ledgers and report back to him.”

The man laughed. “You will report back to him? No. That is my job. Get out.”

“I will do no such thing. This is my home now, and I will say who stays and who leaves. And you, sir, will be leaving.”

“The hell I will.” He stepped closer and Maisy felt the panic she experienced when Nelson came at her while angry and in his cups. She knew if she allowed her fear to show, she would lose this battle. She remained where she was with her back as straight as a fencepost and waited for whatever came.

His hand was raised and she closed her eyes expecting a strike, but when it didn’t come she opened her eyes to see Iain wrestling the man’s arm behind his back and twisting it until the Mr. Garrow fell to his knees with a grunt.

“Why are you yelling at my wife? And did you honestly think to strike her?” Iain said, still twisting the man’s arm.

“This is Mr. Garrow, the steward,” Maisy supplied.

“I don’t care who he is, he was about to hit you, so he is no longer employed here.”

She was rather touched that he would defend her so valiantly.

“Thank you.”

“Bid your apologies to my wife, Mr. Garrow,” Iain demanded.

“I’m bloody sorry,” the man spat and then groaned when Iain pulled his arm back farther.

“That wasn’t polite, was it? Do you want to try again, or should I just finish with ye?”

The man said nothing as he gave her a scathing look and snarled.

“Very well then.” In a move almost too fast to track, Iain dropped the man’s arm and then punched him. Mr. Garrow fell in a heap to the floor.

“Hodge!” Iain bellowed. The man came into the room and looked down at Iain’s feet with a sigh. As if it wasn’t the first time he’d walked into a room to find Iain had knocked someone straight out.

“I’ll get some assistance to have him tossed out. And I’ll make sure the staff knows this man is no longer welcome on the grounds.”

Iain nodded and then came to Maisy.

“Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”