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‘That is a novel way of looking at accounting. For myself I find numbers annoyingly demanding, especially when they insisted on heading in the wrong direction after the war. I am very glad the accounts have stabilised.’
‘Mr McCreary said there might yet be a revival in the prices of wool and kelp, but that struck me as hopeful.’
‘Since their substantial rise in the past was the outcome of war, I prefer to pursue other plans to help Lochmore prosper. Meanwhile I am very grateful for your help with McCreary, I am afraid he is tiring more and more easily.’
‘He is still very alert, but he could use some assistance. Perhaps you could hire a young clerk when I leave. I believe it would prove an economy in the long run and that way you would be freed from overseeing him. Alfred used to say he enjoyed life far too much to mar it with matters that bored or distressed him. I found it an admirable approach to life. Up to a point, of course.’
‘Up to what point?’
‘Well, by the time we wed he was quite deeply in debt, trying to expand his stables with very little attention to the cost. I did my best with the accounts and was quite hopeful we could balance out over time. And probably we would have, had he not died so suddenly. Still, at least he did enjoy his horses very much while he lived.’
‘And left you in debt.’
‘To be fair, the debtors could not touch my settlement, but nothing remained after the debts were settled and the entailed estates went to his cousin.’
‘I am sorry, Jo.’
She shrugged. ‘I am still far better off than I was before my marriage so I have no reason to repine. You will be relieved to hear that despite your concerns on other fronts, and despite the falling prices of kelp and wool, according to the accounts the estate is still turning a nice profit.’
‘I am relieved to hear it. I would rather not end up like your Alfred.’
‘Dead? I sympathise.’
‘No! I meant in debt... Really, Mrs Langdale, you have a most inappropriate sense of humour at times.’
‘Raise your voice an octave, call me “My Dear Joane” and you would sound just like Lady Theale.’
He straightened, but the stern line of his mouth wavered.
‘Are you doing this expressly, Mrs Langdale? You do that with Jamie, too, you know.’
‘Do what, Your Grace?’
‘Try to distract him from his woes. I assure you I can handle mine. I do not need to have magical mice dangled before me.’
‘I wasn’t...’
‘You most certainly were. And I thought we agreed you would forgo calling me “Your Grace”?’
‘You reverted to calling me Mrs Langdale first, I was merely being prudent and following suit.’
‘Did I?’
‘You did. I notice you do so when I vex you. Which is often.’
His smile formed slowly and her heart pinched at the affection in his eyes. It should have warmed her, but it was like a slap, waking her with her foot poised off the edge of a cliff, wondering how she had gone so far. She didn’t want affection, she wanted to touch him, press her palm to the hard expanse of his chest and...explore him.
He must have seen something on her face because he shook his head and cleared his throat and she stepped back from the cliff’s edge.
‘Speaking of prudence, Mrs Merry informed me that my aunt announced she will descend from her tower for dinner tonight which means we will have dinner in the hall. If you wish to claim the headache and avoid meeting Mad Morag, you have my permission. Unfortunately I cannot do the same. Her forays are as rare as a full week of sunshine, but if baulked of her prey, her hunger only increases. Will you join us?’
‘I admit to being curious about her and a little sorry for her. Mrs Merry and Beth only sigh and roll their eyes when she is mentioned. Surely she is not so objectionable?’
‘I will leave you to be the judge of that. Feel free to exercise your Great Grey-Eyed Stare on her as much as you wish.’
Chapter Fifteen
‘Hamish never permitted children at the table,’ Lady Morag announced as Ewan helped her into her chair on Benneit’s right. Benneit sent Jamie a reassuring look, but Jamie was occupied with something under the table and Benneit noted the suspicious snuffling there and sighed. Morag had never approved of dogs. Or of anything he could think of other than whisky.
