Page 22 of Glasgow Rogue

Annie wasn’t quite sure if she felt like a prisoner being escorted to trial or a lady being guarded from the cruel world the next morning as Niall walked on one side of her and Aidan on the other on her way to work.

Perhaps Inis had the right of it yesterday when she said she felt like Guinevere surrounded by knights…

except, if the grim expressions on her escorts’ faces were any clue, Guinevere was probably being escorted to the stake.

“Why are ye so glum? Everything worked out as planned yesterday.”

Niall slanted a glance at her. “This is nae over, lass.”

Aidan nodded. “I think ’tis the beginning.”

Annie shifted her gaze to him. “The beginning of what? All was quiet yesterday. The two of ye and Owen were out on the streets and heard nothing.”

Aidan lifted a brow. “Have ye ever been in a storm at sea?”

“Nae.” Annie frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“’Tis a lull before a big blow,” Aidan answered. “The wind calms. The sea goes flat. An inexperienced sailor is fooled that good weather is ahead, but a wise captain kens to furl the sails and batten the hatches.”

“Aye,” Niall added. “A bad storm is brewing.”

“I think ye fash too much,” Annie replied. “The reason it was quiet yesterday is because the women who read our signs not only demanded answers from their husbands, but word would spread quickly to other wives who would question their husbands as well.”

Aidan gave her an incredulous look. “And ye think that is good?”

“Aye. I ken that some women do nae agree with our club’s purpose, but our ranks close when we are mistreated.”

Niall grimaced. “Men close ranks too.”

“But nae against their own wives.”

“I will accede that point,” Aidan answered, “but it does nae mean the union workers will nae rise against ye.”

“Nae if they want to stay in the wives’ good graces,” Annie retorted.

“There are ways for a man to stay in his wife’s good grace,” Niall said.

“Like how?”

A corner of Niall’s mouth quirked up. “If ye are sure ye want to ken, I will be happy to…explain. Later.”

Annie had a sneaking suspicion that Niall’s explanation might not just be words. Thankfully, Aidan cleared his throat and changed the subject.

“Since both of ye think I need an escort, I am surprised Owen did nae join ye.”

“MacLean is spending the day sniffing out trouble,” Niall replied. “If he scents problems rising, he will tell us.”

“Ye make him sound like a dog.”

“A wolf, more like,” Aidan said.

Annie was glad when they reached the warehouse. “The two of ye can join him now, since wolves hunt in packs.”

“I will spend the morning scouting, but on my own.” Niall grinned at Annie. “’Tis only one lobo to a pack, lass.”

Annie shook her head. Apparently the competition between the two of them had not ended. She turned to Aidan. “Are ye going to be a lone wolf too?”

“Perhaps later,” Aidan answered, “but for now, I would like a tour of the warehouse facilities.”

Annie bit back a groan. She’d hoped that argument had been forgotten. She should have known better.

****

The morning did not get off to a good start.

Kingsley was in the warehouse inspecting a shipment of barley barrels that had just come in and he didn’t look particularly pleased when Annie introduced Aidan and asked that he be given a quick tour of the facilities.

The foreman said that he was busy and another time would be better.

Aidan had replied that he could help in stowing the shipment.

Kingsley had been downright brusque in turning the offer down.

Aidan replied he would simply wait, then, and proved his point by moving to one side and leaning against the wall.

Kingsley glowered at him and Annie had the strange sense that each had made some sort of silent challenge to the other.

Men. To avoid any further conflict, she’d offered to show Aidan around the warehouse herself.

Mr. Haines was in the office when they finished. So was Mr. James, the chairman from the Trades Hall. Both turned as Annie and Aidan walked in. Neither was smiling. Was the day going to get worse?

“It seems you had a busy Sunday, Miss Ferguson,” Mr. Haines said.

“Perhaps.” Annie felt a twinge of uneasiness. Was Mr. James going to try and get her fired? “What exactly are ye referring to?”

“I suspect you know,” Mr. James said, “but in case you have a poor memory—”

“I doona think there is anything wrong with Annie’s memory,” Aidan said. “Just speak plain and keep your tone respectful.”

Annie groaned silently. Was she going to have to avert another confrontation?

Both men frowned. “Who are you?” Mr. Haines asked.

“This is Aidan MacDonald,” Annie replied. “Niall’s brother.” Not that she would have needed to add that since they looked alike. She went on quickly. “He wanted to inspect the warehouse since he’ll be in charge of kelp shipments arriving from Skye.”

Mr. Haines gaze sharpened like it always did when he was appraising a potential new customer. Mr. James’ expression remained dour. He looked at Annie.

“Your women’s club gathered in front of the cathedral yesterday morning and caused trouble.”

“We dinnae say a word.”

“You did not have to,” Mr. James replied. “Your signs did it for you.”

Annie lifted her chin. “We only wanted to let the wives ken what happened at your meeting.”

His face hardened. “You knew bloody well what you were doing. I’ve had nothing but complaints from the men since yesterday afternoon. Those wives gave their husbands bloody hell.”

Aidan adjusted his stance. “I’ll nae tell ye again to be respectful.”

“Yes. Yes. Let us be courteous here,” Mr. Haines interjected. “Perhaps the ladies didn’t make the best choice in arranging that.”

Annie’s temper rose. “We had every right—”

“Allow me, lass.” Aidan took a step forward and gave both men a steady look.

“’Tis true that my brother and I wanted the ladies to stay home to avoid just this kind of trouble.

That said, ’tis also true the women had a right to gather in front of the church.

They did nae incite a riot. As Miss Ferguson said, they simply wanted the wives of the cowardly men involved in the totally disgusting melee Monday night to ken how they’re husbands acted.

Any man who was nae involved need nae fear a tongue-lashing. ”

Mr. James smirked. “You obviously do not know women very well.”

Aidan shrugged. “I ken a woman expects her man to act with honor.”

“Yes. Yes,” Mr. Haines said again. “The whole thing was an unfortunate incident. We should put it behind us.”

“Not until I have assurances that those…” Mr. James glanced at Aidan and then continued, “…women will not pull another stunt like this.”

“I cannae promise ye that,” Annie said. “I doona speak for the club.”

“Very well then.” Mr. James gathered his hat and coat to leave. “Let me put this another way. One more incident like that nonsense yesterday and we will—”

“Are ye threatening the lady?” Aidan asked, his voice deadly calm.

Mr. James seemed to recognize the danger. He stuck his hat on his head and flung open the door. “A threat? I would not think of it.”

As the door slammed behind him, Annie was aware he didn’t mean it.

She shook off a feeling of unease and tried to ignore the fact that Aidan looked concerned too.

Even though he had defended her, she had no doubt she’d be getting a lecture from him and another one from Niall when he heard about this.

The day just seemed to be getting worse.

****

Archibald Haines slipped into an empty chair at a table in Walker’s Hotel on Buchanan Street.

He’d almost been late to this evening’s meeting, thanks to having to handle complaints from irate tradesmen whose goods were stored in his warehouse.

He’d also spent a great part of the afternoon reassuring his partner, Oliver Nolan, that they would not lose business over those idiotic women’s Sunday episode.

As the day wore on, Archibald had considered simply firing Annie Ferguson but then decided against it.

There hadn’t been a single error in the accounting ledgers since she’d started work, which was something he couldn’t say about his former manager.

More importantly, though, she did not have any clue that opium and gold were being exchanged in the false bottoms of the barley and tobacco barrels that crisscrossed the Atlantic.

She signed invoices and bills-of-lading based on physical inventory.

Someone with more experience might question why such an abundance of barley and tobacco was being exchanged in relation to other goods like woolens and linens.

Better to keep an unsuspecting novice in charge.

He was so close to accumulating enough money to purchase one of the former tobacco lords’ mansions and retaking his rightful place in society.

He’d no longer have to take a hand in daily operations of a warehouse either.

He could sell his half to his business partner and work strictly with investments, as a gentleman would.

Duncan Tate, the owner of one of the local woolen mills, stood up and the room quieted. “I’m glad to see so many of you here tonight.”

Which was the man’s way of calling their meeting to order.

Tate was the official chairperson for their unofficial delegation.

The men present tonight were members of the Committee for Organizing a Provisional Government.

The topics they discussed would center on mundane issues of raising wages and improving the economy which had slumped more than two years ago with the end of the French and American wars.

Privately, their group meant to rid Scotland totally of English control.

That topic would be spoken of carefully in code as more and more power was consolidated and procedures slowly put into place.

They weren’t quite ready for a coup yet.

Which reminded Haines that he needed to check on some of his investments to assure that he had a place at the top of the new aristocracy when it took power.

He wished Gordon Munroe would come back from wherever he had gone.

If the man would return to his bookkeeping job at Henderson Shipping, those two pesky MacDonalds would have no reason to stay in Glasgow.

The fewer people scrutinizing his business, the better.

****

Kingsley watched from the shadows across the street as Haines, along with nearly a score of other men, exited Walker’s Hotel shortly after nine o’clock.

He mentally checked off each one, although he knew the same men met bi-monthly at the same time.

Still, he couldn’t afford to assume anything.

If someone new had been added to the group or someone had stopped attending, Kingsley needed those names.

The prime minister expected accurate information.

Pity that Kingsley hadn’t been able to infiltrate the inner circle of these men.

They’d been friendly enough in the outer public room and seemed to agree when he mentioned the need for economic reform that they claimed their committee was trying to do.

But the fact that he hadn’t been invited to attend the private meetings made him all the more suspicious that more was going on than just reform.

The Scots had a long history of rebelling against the English, and their last battle, at Culloden, had been more than seventy years ago.

The French ousting Napoleon and the Americans revolting were simply fuel for the ever-smoldering ashes of Scottish independence to be reignited.

But he could make an example of one man and perhaps slow the movement down—or, even better, identify someone already in the circle who might become a turncoat.

In Kingsley’s experience, once a man realized he stood to lose everything—property, money, position, family—he could often be persuaded to talk.

All Kingsley had to do was dig up the right information on the weakest link in this chain.

After discovering the false bottom filled with opium powder in the exported barley barrels at the warehouse and the gold at the bottom of the returning imported tobacco barrels, Kingsley passed the information to London, along with a request to trace the source of the opium, if it could be found.

He might not be able to prove treason yet, but evading import taxes on opium would provide gaol time.

The idea that Newgate prison might claim other “guests” from Glasgow could get one of the men to talk.

And Kingsley was very close to making that happen.