Page 21 of Deception and Desire
Lachlan’s mind was whirling. That lovely lass would be working in close quarters with him. By the saints, he was either cursed or truly lucky. “What’s her name? Is she married?”
“Fenella Franklin. No. Her father was English, rest his soul, and her mother half-Scot.” Ian leaned forward on his elbows. “And she can add a column of numbersin her headfaster than ye can toss back a dram of whisky.”
“I tell ye, it almost made my blood hot just watching her.” Colin sat back and folded his arms across his broad chest, his blue eyes intent on Lachlan. “On that subject, I do believe ye blushed like a lass when ye mentioned the kiss, Lachy.”
“She lives here in Glasgow, then?” he asked, ignoring the comment.
“Aye, with her elderly grandmother. Her mother and sister are in England.” Colin grinned. “If something did come of it, ye could marry her and have an accountant in the family. Save us a bit of money, eh?”
“He needs to avoid the lass, no’ pursue her.” Ian shot Colin a warning look. “Dinna give him any ideas.”
Too late, thought Lachlan.
Fenella. A fitting name for the angelic blonde that had invaded his dreams all afternoon. In Gaelic, the name meant white or fair shoulders. The thought of her bare porcelain skin, warm and supple beneath his touch, sent a rumble through his core.
He returned Colin’s grin. This next month would prove to be his saving graceorhis undoing. Either way, it would be much more entertaining than dealing with the likes of a spiteful Craigg and stinking sheep.
Chapter Five
Bright Beginnings
Fenella burst intothe parlor, her light pelisse flowing behind her and scattering papers across the side table. “I did it, Grandmama. Meet the accountant for MacNaughton Textile Mill.” She beamed and gave a deep curtsy.
Her grandmother set down her needlework and removed her spectacles, her brown eyes sparkling with questions. “I kent ye’d do well, lass. Now sit down and tell me every detail.”
Fenella plopped down on the settee and recounted the afternoon, ending with the amazement on the men’s faces when she was able to mentally add a column of numbers. Repeatedly. “First they looked at me as if I had wings and a horn growing from my head. Then it was as if I had been sent to them from Heaven.”
“It seems fate has stepped in,” beamed her grandmother.
“Oh!” Fenella clapped a hand over her mouth. “There was a tiny glitch.”
Her grandmother raised an eyebrow.
“When Mr. MacNaughton—Ian—asked about my family, I mentioned that Papa was gone. Before I could finish my sentence, telling him where, Ian had interrupted me with assurances he would not pry. I’m certain he thinks Papa is dead.” She studied her dusty leather shoes. “Then he made a comment about women not considered for such positions and I forgot about it until now.”
“Humdudgeon! Be sure to set him straight when ye return.” Aileen reached out and squeezed Fenella’s hand. “Now, we should celebrate. I’ll see what I have in the kitchen and make a special sweet for this momentous day.”
“First, I must find Rose and then write to Evie. It issoexciting.” Fenella stood and twirled around, giving herself a tight hug. “A month ago, I wanted to hide behind the potted plants at Almack’s. Tomorrow, I will begin a position that could provide me with independence.”
“And what would ye do with such freedom?”
“Not worry about dances, or stepping on toes, or making appropriate, mundane conversation.” She stooped to kiss the top of her grandmother’s white kertch that covered most of her gray hair. “Or husbands!”
“Never say never, lass. It will bite ye in the backside when ye’re no’ watching.”
*
That night, thewomen nibbled on Grandmama’s shortbread and a new imported tea purchased on their last outing. Fenella licked the remaining sugar from her mouth and wiped a caraway seed from her lip onto her tongue, relishing the last of the special treat. The fire crackled, Aileen’s rocker creaked cheerfully, and Rose sat in the corner, mending and humming an old lullaby Fenella remembered from childhood. The maid’s clear, sweet voice had sent both sisters into a restful slumber countless times over the years.
“Rose, lass, ye should have this last biscuit,” said her grandmother. “Ye only had one, and we’ve had several.”
“Thank you kindly, ma’am.” Rose stood, walked over to the table, and picked up the piece of sugared fruit. The glow of the fire cast red streaks in her gleaming black hair. “You should retire soon, Miss Fenella. Tomorrow is an important day.”
“I still don’t see why you can’t eliminate the ‘miss’ while we are here,” she said with exasperation.
“I’ve told you. If I were ever to slip in front of Lady Franklin, I’d be out on the street.”
Fenella sighed, then covered her mouth to hide a yawn. “My clothes are laid out and ready. Is the carriage ordered, Grandmama?”
