Page 33 of Highland Renegade
“Actually, I wanted to look at the ledgers. Ian said you kept them here.”
“We do, but why would they interest ye?”
He already sounded defensive, so Emily smiled at him, hoping to defuse the situation. “I involved myself with the running of my husband’s estate and want to do the same here.” No need to mention she’d involved herself out of necessity. “Working with numbers is mentally challenging.” No need, either, to say the challenge was how to keep herself and her sisters from being put out on the streets of London. “I am sure everything is in order, so do not worry on that account.”
“’Tis nothing for us to fash about,” Broderick said. “Ian kens we keep a clean record.”
“I am sure you do.” Emily smiled again, not wanting to demand the ledgers, but determined that she would. “I am truly interested in seeing what your production is, the cost of it, how much you sell to Glasgow and at what price, and also how much you retain for personal use.”
“That is all?” Donovan asked in a dry voice.
She chose to ignore his tone and nodded pleasantly. “That is all.”
Broderick frowned. “If we show ye the ledgers, what good will it do ye?”
“I learned how to cut costs while studying the earl’s books.” Again, no need to say that it was a matter of survival. “I want to see if there is a way we can increase profit.”
“We make enough profit without taking advantage of the public-house owners who buy from us.”
“I understand,” Emily said, “but if there is a way to earn more money—without hurting your current customers—would you not want to do it?”
“What do ye mean?” Donovan asked.
“Your whisky is excellent.” For the first time, both of the men smiled slightly. “I know that the gentlemen’s clubs in London would snatch up all you could send them once they have tried it.”
The uncles exchanged glances and then Donovan shrugged. “It will nae hurt anything to let her have a look.”
Broderick hesitated, then shrugged, too. “I suppose it willna.”
Following him to the small office to the side of the malting room, Emily felt like she’d just won a huge victory.
The feeling of winning was short-lived once she arrived back at Strae Castle that afternoon. Ian’s face looked like a thundercloud as he met her at the entrance.
“Where have ye been?”
“I rode over to the distillery.”
“By yerself?”
He sounded indignant, although she wasn’t sure if he was angry or upset. Probably both. “It is only a mile.”
“Maggie said ye left this morning,” Rory said as he and Devon came out of the Great Hall to stand beside Ian. “Were ye sampling too many drams and fell asleep?”
He probably meant that as a jest, but before she could answer, Devon spoke up. “Or did ye ride off somewhere to meet the Campbell?”
“Why would I…” Her voice trailed off as she realized Ian was staring at her with suspicion. “You think that I would chase after Mr. Campbell?”
Devon didn’t give Ian time to answer, either. “Ye are a Sassenach. Who kens what ye might do? We doona need—”
“Sguir dheth.”
Ian didn’t raise his voice, but his tone was hard. Emily didn’t need to understand Gaelic to realize that the command had its effect. Devon gave him a surly look but grew quiet. Ian turned back to her.
“What did keep ye away all day?”
“I was going through the ledgers. You can ask either of your uncles to vouch for my presence,” she answered.
Rory gave her an incredulous look. “Why would a woman spend hours looking at numbers?”
