Was it possible there wasn’t barley in those barrels? Kingsley pulled out a pocket watch. The meeting at the Trades Hall would end soon. He had no way of knowing whether Haines wouldcome by the warehouse or not, but he certainly couldn’t be caught opening one of the barrels.
He glanced over at the empty barrels the cooper had brought. Miss Ferguson had counted them, but Haines hadn’t been in today, so he would have no way of knowing if one was missing. Kingsley doubted that Miss Ferguson would check either since the barrels weren’t due to ship out for several days. He could fill one with dirt and use it as a placeholder while he took one of the barley barrels to his flat. If all the barrel contained was barley, he would return it and no one would be the wiser.
Fifteen minutes later, the barrel was in the back of his phaeton and Kingsley was on his way home.
Chapter Nine
An annoying buzz hovered over Annie’s head and she tried to swat the interference away. She wanted to stay nestled where she was, in cocoon warmth against a broad chest, held by strong, muscular arms, enveloped in a delightful scent of fresh soap and leather and floating in a foggy haze.
A face came into focus. Niall. He lowered his head, his lips brushing across her cheek gently. Not her cheek. Her mouth. She wanted his firm lips on her mouth…
The buzz became a faint murmur of voices. Annie burrowed further into her dream. She was content to remain here forever.Niall was about to kiss her…
Someone gave her shoulder a gentle shake. “Open your eyes, Annie.”
A male voice, but not Niall’s. Her shoulder was shaken again, a bit harder this time. “Annie. Wake up.”
She didn’t want to. She liked where she was, if only they would let her alone. A putrid odor suddenly invaded her nostrils and she sputtered, then blinked her eyes open. The physician was waving smelling salts under her nose. She sputtered again. “Take those away.”
He moved back. “She sounds normal.”
“Thank God. We have been so worried.”
Annie turned at the sound of her mother’s voice and then looked around. She was in her bedroom, lying on her bed. Behind her mother, she could see the members of the Progress Club crowding the doorway.
“What happened?”
The doctor looked at her gravely. “How much do you remember?”
Annie frowned, trying to recall. “We…were at a meeting. The Trades Hall. I…I was speaking…” It hurt to think. Her headached. Annie lifted a hand to her forehead and felt a lump, wincing as the pain increased. “How did I hit my head?”
“I believe something was thrown at you,” the doctor replied.
“A cabbage,” Aileen called from the doorway. “Some lily-livered idiot threw a cabbage.” The doctor gave her a mild look which she ignored. “Niall and Owen are trying to find out which one of the louts did it.”
So Niall wasn’t here then. Annie didn’t know whether to be relieved or sorry. Had he really kissed her cheek or did she just dream it? But why would she dream something like that? It didn’t make sense. But then, neither did it make sense if he really did kiss her. Her thinking must be muddled. She began to shake her head to clear it, then stopped from the pain.
“Easy now,” the doctor said. “I think you have a mild concussion, so the less you move your head the better.
“A concussion?”
He nodded. “It is fairly normal when someone is struck and loses consciousness. The fact that you remember most of what happened is good.” He picked up the small oil lamp by the table and held it close to her face. “Your pupils are not dilated. Another good sign.” He put the lamp down. “But I want you to stay in bed and rest for two or three days.”
“Can we nae talk to her?” Fenella asked.
“Talking is fine. It’s better if she stays awake.” He gathered his things and put them in a satchel and turned to go. “Just do not excite her.”
“That is easier said than done,” Cora said as the women flowed in after the doctor left. “Too bad ye were not awake to see what happened!”
Annie touched her head again. “I am nae sure I want to ken.”
“Aye, ye do,” Deidre said. “Well, maybe not the part about the rotten fruit—”
“Someone actually threw rotten fruit at us?” Annie asked.
Aileen nodded grimly. “Lots of it too.”
“But why? We had permission to speak. Mr. James put us on the agenda.”
