Page 45 of Return of the Scot
Even if Lorne had asked her to marry him—that was a request she’d denied and would keep on denying.
“Aye, all right, Miss. We’ve received an anonymous tip that your ships contain contraband.”
“Rubbish,” Lorne said at the same time she said, “That’s absurd.”
“We must examine all accusations of such. Ye know the law,” the magistrate said.
“Who made the accusation? If ye’ve a right to search, I’ve a right to know who would falsely accuse me and slander my company.” Jaime stood her ground and wasn’t going to be cowed by a man of the law, even if he was in the correct.
“I’m afraid that’s confidential.”
“That’s shite,” the duke said with a sneer at the magistrate. “Give me the name, or I’ll have your job.”
The magistrate swallowed hard, his cheeks turning a ruddy color. “I do apologize, Your Grace, but it was anonymous. We’re no’ certain. It was a letter we received from an eyewitness.”
“Who would want to destroy me like this?” Jaime asked, racking her brain. Certainly, plenty of other shipping companies would consider her a rival, but she was on good enough terms with the other companies that she believed they wouldn’t sabatoge her. None of them would stoop so low as to have her name and reputation dragged through the mud, for fear of retribution on their own business. Unless they felt certain that they’d not get caught. That was a possibility, she supposed, and she couldn’t rule it out. Otherwise, she had no enemies. No one she could think of that would try to destroy her like this.
“Well, ye’re welcome to go and have a look, but ye’ll no’ find whatever it is ye think ye’re searching for. I run an upstanding enterprise, sir. My laborers are hard workers and good men. My books are clean, and our cargo is only top-notch—and legal.”
“I believe ye, miss,” the magistrate said. “We’ve never had trouble with ye before, but I have to take tips like this seriously, else I’ll lose my job.”
“Ye may yet,” the duke warned.
“Please, Your Grace, I swear to ye, I know nothing of whoever made the claim. And I can promise when I find out, I’ll come to ye straight away.”
“Why no’ come to me?” Jaime asked, exasperated. “’Tis my company.”
“Right, miss. Right ye are. I will.”
They followed the magistrate and his deputies outside and down to the docks, where Emilia was startled by their approach, as she was flirting with one of the sailors on the Shanna.
“What’s happening?” her clerk asked, hurrying to comfort Jaime.
“A search for contraband,” Jaime said. “A bogus claim and a waste of time.”
The ships were searched one by one until finally, the magistrate and his men decided there was nothing to the accusation and apologized for having disrupted her day.
“Ye be sure to get me the information I want,” Lorne warned the magistrate as he and his deputies departed.
“I will, Your Grace.” The wharf official tipped his hat, then he and his men were off, fading from view but not from mind.
“This could ruin me,” Jaime said. “Even a minor accusation like this is enough to set tongues wagging and make my clients wary.”
Lorne shook his head. “They’ll think it rubbish, lass. And I can promise ye I’ll do everything in my power to find out who was behind it. Ye have my word.”
11
“Malcolm, I was just going to send ye a note.” Lorne walked into his drawing room to find his cousin lounging in a chair reading the paper, an unlit cigar between his fingers.
Malcolm snapped the paper closed, tossed it on a side table, tucked the cigar into his pocket and stood. “Mungo said ye were out, but I did no’ want to take the chance of missing ye.”
“I hope ye were no’ waiting long.” Lorne embraced his cousin in a manly hug with plenty of mighty slaps to the back. It felt so good to be able to do something so normal again.
“No’ at all.”
“Can I get ye something? Tea? Whisky?”
Malcolm chuckled. “I’m fine, but ye might want a dram. I’ve come with news about Gille.”
