Read Online Taken by the Laird by Margo Maguire - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Margo Maguire
Ads: Link
If MacGowan was the one responsible for Hugh’s losses, he could not be pleased to have him there, in the midst of an operation.
This shipment would go a long way toward compensating for the deficits Hugh had had to live with over the past three years. Rather than dealing with his insufferable partner, he’d made up the differences himself, and given a higher percentage of the take to the Falkburn folk. ’Twas long past time he put a stop to it. “When does it go out?”
“We were hoping last night,” said MacGowan. “And now tonight does no’ look good, either. No’ with more rain comin’.”
“Tomorrow, then.”
“Aye. It must be tomorrow, for another of Captain Benoit’s ships will be comin’ in late.”
Hugh considered the news, frowning at the inefficiency of it. “Then you’d best get the brandy that’s in the buttery diluted and out today, else where will you store the new shipment?”
“Mayhap in the barn, Laird? ’Tis winter and none o’ the customs agents are likely to rouse themselves to poke into every wee cranny along the coast this time o’ year.”
“No,” said Hugh. “They’re too unpredictable. I’d rather not risk Berk Armstrong or Angus Kincaid finding it. Or worse yet—Mr. Pennycook. Get it out tonight. Regardless of the weather.”
MacGowan nodded, though he was clearly not happy about it. His reaction only confirmed Hugh’s suspicions, for the manager was his primary suspect in the thieving. No one else had access to the money Hugh sent, as well as all the information—the dates and times, numbers and distribution.
“You’ve yet to say why you’ve come here, MacGowan,” said Hugh, for the man had already admitted he had not known of Hugh’s presence until his arrival at the castle.
“Oh…uh, just estate business,” the man replied. “I come up every few days t’ check on things.”
“Very good of you, especially on a day like this.”
“Weel, I always like t’ know if anyone’s been poking round the product.”
Hugh crossed his arms over his chest and looked at MacGowan. He knew it was sometimes best to stay silent and let the situation play out, a direct contradiction to his father’s ways. The old laird had been much more vocal, letting everyone know of his thoughts and plans…as well as his disdain. Hugh could not imagine the old man ever getting anything more than the most basic cooperation from those who worked for him.
Or from his son.
“I didna bring the books, since I didna know ye were here,” said MacGowan.
Hugh waited, ignoring the harsh visage of his father, glaring down upon him through the dark oil pigment of the painting that hung on the wall behind MacGowan.Jasper would have browbeaten the manager until he’d heard what he wanted to hear. Not necessarily the truth.
But Hugh was a patient man, and he waited as MacGowan pulled on one of his muttonchops and started to pace before the fire. The estate manager had never been a calm man, and Hugh knew better than to ask him outright if he was cheating Hugh, the way his father would have done.
“I can look over the books any time,” Hugh said. “Our priority is to get the brandy let down, and out of the castle before tomorrow.”
Hugh could dismiss his estate manager out of hand, but he wanted proof. And he wanted the names of all who were involved, especially if they were Falkburn men—the very ones he’d been supporting these past three years.
“Tell me, MacGowan,” he asked, in spite of his belief that Miss MacLaren was not involved, “do we use any women as carriers?”
“Women? Nay, Laird. I doona believe so.”
“You’re sure?”
“I canna be entirely sure, nay. But I doubt it. I’ve no’ heard of anyone giving o’er to a woman to sell the brandy. Why are ye thinking it, might I ask?”
“Just call me curious. Do you think you can find enough experienced men to let down the brandy tonight? And to carry it out?”
“Aye, Laird. Of course. We’ve none
This shipment would go a long way toward compensating for the deficits Hugh had had to live with over the past three years. Rather than dealing with his insufferable partner, he’d made up the differences himself, and given a higher percentage of the take to the Falkburn folk. ’Twas long past time he put a stop to it. “When does it go out?”
“We were hoping last night,” said MacGowan. “And now tonight does no’ look good, either. No’ with more rain comin’.”
“Tomorrow, then.”
“Aye. It must be tomorrow, for another of Captain Benoit’s ships will be comin’ in late.”
Hugh considered the news, frowning at the inefficiency of it. “Then you’d best get the brandy that’s in the buttery diluted and out today, else where will you store the new shipment?”
“Mayhap in the barn, Laird? ’Tis winter and none o’ the customs agents are likely to rouse themselves to poke into every wee cranny along the coast this time o’ year.”
“No,” said Hugh. “They’re too unpredictable. I’d rather not risk Berk Armstrong or Angus Kincaid finding it. Or worse yet—Mr. Pennycook. Get it out tonight. Regardless of the weather.”
MacGowan nodded, though he was clearly not happy about it. His reaction only confirmed Hugh’s suspicions, for the manager was his primary suspect in the thieving. No one else had access to the money Hugh sent, as well as all the information—the dates and times, numbers and distribution.
“You’ve yet to say why you’ve come here, MacGowan,” said Hugh, for the man had already admitted he had not known of Hugh’s presence until his arrival at the castle.
“Oh…uh, just estate business,” the man replied. “I come up every few days t’ check on things.”
“Very good of you, especially on a day like this.”
“Weel, I always like t’ know if anyone’s been poking round the product.”
Hugh crossed his arms over his chest and looked at MacGowan. He knew it was sometimes best to stay silent and let the situation play out, a direct contradiction to his father’s ways. The old laird had been much more vocal, letting everyone know of his thoughts and plans…as well as his disdain. Hugh could not imagine the old man ever getting anything more than the most basic cooperation from those who worked for him.
Or from his son.
“I didna bring the books, since I didna know ye were here,” said MacGowan.
Hugh waited, ignoring the harsh visage of his father, glaring down upon him through the dark oil pigment of the painting that hung on the wall behind MacGowan.Jasper would have browbeaten the manager until he’d heard what he wanted to hear. Not necessarily the truth.
But Hugh was a patient man, and he waited as MacGowan pulled on one of his muttonchops and started to pace before the fire. The estate manager had never been a calm man, and Hugh knew better than to ask him outright if he was cheating Hugh, the way his father would have done.
“I can look over the books any time,” Hugh said. “Our priority is to get the brandy let down, and out of the castle before tomorrow.”
Hugh could dismiss his estate manager out of hand, but he wanted proof. And he wanted the names of all who were involved, especially if they were Falkburn men—the very ones he’d been supporting these past three years.
“Tell me, MacGowan,” he asked, in spite of his belief that Miss MacLaren was not involved, “do we use any women as carriers?”
“Women? Nay, Laird. I doona believe so.”
“You’re sure?”
“I canna be entirely sure, nay. But I doubt it. I’ve no’ heard of anyone giving o’er to a woman to sell the brandy. Why are ye thinking it, might I ask?”
“Just call me curious. Do you think you can find enough experienced men to let down the brandy tonight? And to carry it out?”
“Aye, Laird. Of course. We’ve none
Similar Books
