“I will wait, Mr. Gilchrist.” She reached down into the satchel she’d brought along to hold the papers and such and withdrew a small book. With a smile, she opened the book to the ribbon placeholder and began to read. He walked away muttering under his breath.
She had no idea how long it would take to retrieve him, but now that she was prepared and ready to face him, she had no intentions of leaving without doing so. A lad of eight had shown up today with bruises on his face and it sickened her to think she had the means to end it all. So, she sat and read.
His employees, to a one, were courteous and the requested tea, along with biscuits and even small cakes, arrived quickly. Ned offered her the use of a small office away from the main entrance, but she declined. The view of both the street, the docks and most of the employees who worked in the offices was better from right here. She would see anyone leaving or approaching the premises.
Though she expected him to arrive within an hour at the most, he did not. Ned’s consternation grew each time he glanced at the clock. After sitting as long as she comfortably could, she stood and walked to the windows. The day had dawned bright and pleasant, dispelling the fog of the last two days and reminding her of the day they sailed down to...
“Ned, I am going to get some air.” He stood immediately and rounded his desk to her side.
“Lady Clare, I can schedule a more convenient time—”
“I’ll just be outside, Ned. I am not going away until I speak with him.” She’d said it quietly but his eyes flared in alarm. She turned the knob and stepped outside before he could say anything else.
Crossing the street, she approached the entrance to the dock. The ship they’d been on was gone but the harbor was a busy place. Making her way along the wooden dock, she stepped off the main pathway and into one of the unused gangways, Iain had told her they were called, that now led to an empty berth.
It was fascinating to watch all the activity around her—ships and boats of all sorts and sizes entering and departing, boxes and crates being loaded on and off by hardworking crews of men and more. In spite of using shipping companies, she’d never paid heed to how it all worked. Though she could not admit it, at least standing out here was more comfortable than sitting in that chair inside.
“My lady?” She did not recognize the voice but when she turned, she knew the speaker.
“Mr. Cairns.”
“My lady, Sir Iain cannot meet you today,” he said. His gaze did not flinch, he did not even blink as he spoke. And he reminded her of Chalmers in his manners. “It is simply not possible.” He was not lying or dissembling or delaying. And she knew it.
“Why not?”
It was rude to ask, for the polite thing to do was not embarrass someone trying to beg off. Clare was not feeling polite in the moment. Cairns threw his gaze to the sea before speaking.
“Sir Iain is out there,” he finally revealed. “Ned should have told you, but it is not the practice to give out his whereabouts when he is not available.”
“At sea?”
“Aye, until the morning.” He nodded behind him. “Your coach is waiting.” Indeed, her coach, along with Chalmers, waited across the road. “Can I carry that for you?” He looked down at the satchel she’d placed next to her feet.
“No, but thank you,” she said, retrieving it.
He stepped back and allowed her to lead. When they crossed the street, Chalmers waved off the footman and opened the door for her.
“I will see that Sir Iain kens you were here to see him, my lady.”
“I have no doubt he’ll hear all about it, Mr. Cairns.” She climbed into the carriage.
“Should he expect you tomorrow or should he call on you, my lady?”
She glanced at Chalmers who’d scowled and growled with every word Mr. Cairns spoke. On a day when she had less to worry about, she would ask Chalmers for an explanation, but now, today, she wanted to be gone.
“Tomorrow noon, Mr. Cairns, if you’d be good enough to tell him to expect me.”
“Of course, my lady.” This time Chalmers snorted aloud. Leaning closer to the open window of the coach, he spoke. “Shall I tell him what matter you wish to see him about?” An epithet erupted from Chalmers that he did not even try to disguise then.
“None of your business to ask or to ken, Cairns. Now step away or be run the hell over where you stand.”
Anyone else would have jumped back several feet at such an order, but Iain’s solicitor simply glared at hers and slowly took a half-step away from where he stood. Her coachman would never run someone over, so she did not fear for his safety from that, but whether he was safe from Chalmers was a question she could not answer.
They rode in silence until they’d turned onto her street and approached the townhouse. She had gone alone because she did not wish to discuss this with anyone until after it was done.
“I did not realize how upset you were by my information, my lady. I have some recommendations ready for your review—”
“Thank you, Mr. Chalmers. I am fine.”
