He tipped his head toward the sheet. “Come, I’ll roll up my sleeves for you.”
That was a tempting offer, even in spite of the edge of embarrassment that he’d noticed my appreciation. “Fine, but only if you loosen the cravat too.”
“I cannot do that—I was bitten by a rabid spider.”
His lips were trapped between his teeth in an effort to restrain his smile, but I could not. Still, I let him drag me out onto the drive where I was greeted with a disgruntled bleat from Fenella, grazing along the drive and leaving piles for aesthetic and aromatic purposes.
Thirty-One
KILMARNOCK ABBEY, EDINBURGH - JULY 17, 1816
TOM
Xander was astonishinglyhelpful in splitting the wood into usable quarters and in helping me get the posts into the ground. By the time we’d managed that, Lock and Godfrey returned with more timber and a guest.
A young lady hopped off the back of the wagon. A female carpenter? That was interesting.
Xander and I approached her, keeping a conspicuous distance between us. Much as we needed her assistance, I couldn’t help but lament the reduction of privacy.
Lock rounded the wagon to perform the introductions. “This here is Miss Isobel Gillan. Her pa is the best carpenter in the city.”
“Pleased to meet ye,” she mumbled, gaze cast on the ground. She was small, with delicate, freckled features and red curls. Her dress was simple, with a serviceable leather apron overtop.
“Thank you for coming,” Xander said, struggling to keep his hands still. “Could I speak to you for a moment, Lock?”
Xander’s fingers finally escaped his tenuous control and he snatched the man around the elbow to drag him behind a tree. I suspected the conversation would be an intriguing one. While I could guess his concerns, I also knew that beggars could not be choosers.
The girl was left behind, looking askance at the hole in the house’s facade.
“I’m Tom Grayson. I’m just a friend of His Grace’s.”
“What happened to the door?” Miss Gillan asked, ignoring my introduction entirely.
“No idea. It was like that when I arrived. They keep blaming the sheep, but that seems unlikely. It’s propped on the side of the house if you’d like to take a look.”
She disappeared in a flurry of practical cotton skirts, pausing only to heave a toolbox off the back of the wagon. It seemed she was not one for small talk.
Xander’s mutterings grew more shrill behind the tree, and I abandoned Miss Gillan to her inspection. I rounded the elm to find Xander in a state.
“—and she’ll be horrifically injured. She should be at home in front of a fire, not lifting heavy boards and sawing things.” His hands danced around searching for words.
“She is the only one available, Yer Grace. It’s her or none at all.”
I reached for Xander’s wrist, catching myself not a moment too soon. “Xander, come now. At the very least, she must have knowledge. She can direct us”—at his glare I immediately corrected—“meon how to do the work.”
A loud clang came from the direction of the house, and we rounded the tree to see Miss Gillan bracing the door in the frame and adjusting something in the corner.
“What the—” Xander muttered before stomping over. I trailed after him, though I rather suspected I knew what wewould find. It seemed Miss Gillan had a strategy to ensure her hire—prove indispensable within ten minutes of arrival.
She was bent over, fussing with the final hinge when I caught up to Xander. No sooner had we reached her side, than she rose and swung the door open and closed once or twice, testing her work.
“You fixed it.”
“Rusted pins,” she said simply and held her hand out, waiting for him to line his palm underneath. She opened it to reveal several remnants of what I assumed were hinge pins. “The entire hinge needs replaced, but I dinnae have the right size. Can have someone make them for ye in yer forge.”
“I do not have a forge,” Xander said
“Yes, ye do.”
