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Angus scowled and straightened his sagging bonnet. “Ye always say that, and somehow thatother timenever arrives.”
“Grandda, why are you here? And does Vicky know you’re wandering about town dressed like the ghost of Rob Roy?”
Grant’s sister-in-law usually managed to keep Angus on the right side of respectable. This time, though, he’d clearly slipped the net.
“I dinna need any lassie tellin’ me how to dress,” Angus indignantly replied.
“Apparently you do, though. I’m sorry, Grandda, but that bonnet is wretched.”
“Yer brotherthe laird,” Angus said with unnecessary emphasis, “sent me forthwith to fetch ye. And I’ll nae have ye insultin’ my bonnet. King Georgie himself wished that he had one just like it, ye recall.”
“Yes, you remind us of that repeatedly.” Grant gently propelled his grandfather into the hall. “And we all wish you’d given it to the king as a going away present. The blasted thing smells like a peat bog.”
Angus glowered as they walked along the upstairs corridor. “This bonnet was worn by one of yer ancestors when he fought at the side of the Bruce himself. I’ll nae have ye disrespecting our history.”
Grant cast a quick glance into the various offices as they made their way to the stairs. The warehouse manager and three senior clerks were already gone, probably a good hour ago.
“Grandda, that’syourbonnet, and it’s not that old. It’s only pathetic because the moths got at it when you shoved it into a trunk and forgot about it.”
“It’s the point I’m makin’ that matters, lad. It’s all numbers and work for ye. It’s nae good for ye, all this toilin’ away by candlelight.”
Grant snorted at the sudden change in topic. “What I ken is that your bonnet and my work are completely unrelated subjects.”
Grumbling, Angus preceded him down the stairs to the front office, where junior clerks, now gone for the day, tallied the inventories of timber, furs, and other goods arriving from Canada.
While the headquarters of Kendrick Shipping and Trade was in Halifax, Canada, Grant’s older brother, Logan, had established a large office in Glasgow and a smaller branch in Edinburgh. They hoped to expand to London within the next six months, after Logan and his family returned to Scotland. Logan, Donella, and their children had spent the better part of two years in Halifax, but would soon be moving back to Glasgow.
The night porter was a sharp young fellow from the small village near Kinglas. He rose from his seat by the fire when he saw Grant.
“All settled in for the night, Sam?” Grant asked.
“Aye, sir. And thank ye for loanin’ me yer copy ofIvanhoe. It’s a corkin’ good story.”
Grant nodded. “That it is.”
Angus snorted. “Och, a fat lot of nonsense written by a Lowland nincompoop. Now, dinna ye be neglectin’ yer duties, lad, reading that historical twaddle.”
When Sam’s eyes widened with alarm, Grant nudged his grandfather toward the door. “Sam knows his responsibilities perfectly well, Grandda. No need to lecture him about reading a harmless novel.”
“I’ll lock up behind ye, sir,” the young man gratefully said.
“Ye needn’t shove me,” Angus protested as he stepped down onto the cobblestone street. “Ye’ll be breakin’ my puir old bones.”
“I did not shove you. Besides, you’re as sturdy as a billy goat.”
Angus tottered, doing his best to look frail. “And how would ye ken that? What with yer bein’ at work all day and half the night, a slave to yer ledgers. I could be lyin’ dead in my bed for a week and ye’d never notice.”
Grant cupped a hand around his grandfather’s elbow and steered him down the street. “I might not, but our housekeeper surely would.”
“Not the point, laddie boy.”
“Then what is?”
“All this fussin’ about Royal leavin’ the business, it’s got ye in a stew.”
Grant repressed a grimace at the home hit. Hewasworried about his older brother’s impending departure. Royal was Logan’s right-hand man and knew Kendrick Shipping and Trade from the bottom up.
“I’m not—”
