Page 56 of Never Kiss a Scot
“It’s all right, Duncan. Go see to your duties. The lady is feeling better today, and we will handle the luncheon ourselves.”
Brock took a wicker basket and began to fill it with roast beef, some apples, fresh strawberries, a few wedges of cheese, and a loaf of warm bread. Then he grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses.
“Really, my lord, I should pack that for you. It is my job, after all.”
“No, it’s all right, Mrs. Tate.” He curled an arm around Joanna’s waist, and they went to the library, where they settled into two chairs by the fire. The afternoon sunlight poured through the windows, but he wasn’t sure she would be warm enough.
“Shall I light a fire?”
“No, thank you. I feel fine.” She had belted her dressing gown over her body, which he hoped provided enough warmth.
He prepared them each a plate, and after he finished eating, he chose a book from one of the few left in the library, a book of poetry, and read to Joanna.
Her face lit up as he read to her, and he vowed that they would do this often. Come to the library and read to each other. It made her happy, and that made him happy as well. It was especially a good thing to do to keep her resting for a time. She was still too pale for his liking.
“I should like to go to the village today and place some orders for more books. These empty shelves sadden me. Would that be all right with you?”
“Aye, it would be a fine thing to see the shelves brimming with books again.”
“I’m surprised you had so many shelves, given how easily your father was willing to part with them. I would have assumed the castle wouldn’t have had a large library.”
“My father changed much after my mother died. Mr. Tate and his sister knew him a long time. They were still loyal to him, probably because he kept them around rather than let them go. It was a hard transition when I took over.”
“Brock, that reminds me—I was trying to set the accounts straight, and…” She bit her bottom lip. “I believe Mr. Tate may be changing numbers. The expenses aren’t as high as I think you’ve been told. Do you think he could be pocketing some of the money? I don’t wish to accuse a man who has served your family for so many years, but perhaps we should consider talking to Mr. Tate about the accounts?”
He thought back to the arguments he had had with Tate, who’d insisted on handling the majority of the paperwork and the accounts, just as his father had. Brock didn’t want to admit that it was possible. Tate’s behavior of late had been cold and secretive.
“I wonder…” He stroked his jaw thoughtfully.
“We need to find the books to be absolutely sure. They weren’t in your study.” Joanna started to stand, but Brock caught her wrist and pulled her back down.
“Eat first, lass. Then we can investigate.”
She needed to regain her strength and wouldn’t do so without eating. Only when Joanna cheekily flashed him her empty plate did he let her stand up.
“Can you dress yourself? Or do you need help?” He meant the question innocently, but when she fluttered her lashes at him, he suddenly had other thoughts.
“If you assist me, I rather think I’ll end up with no clothes on at all.” She laughed sweetly, and it made his chest tighten, and he found himself smiling for the first time in days.
“Why don’t you go change? I want to have a word with Mr. Tate. Then I’ll have the coach prepared.”
The heat in her eyes dimmed a little, and she nodded in understanding. He headed to his study, not surprised to find Tate already there.
“My lord?” The older man rose to his feet and glanced over Brock’s shoulder as though expecting someone. Joanna, perhaps? Brock kept firm control of his temper and his emotions. He had to let Tate keep thinking he wasn’t suspected of anything. Not yet. There had been no more attempts on Joanna’s life, but he needed Tate safely away so he could be sure while he investigated the estate account books.
“Tate, my wife has accounts with some Scottish banks. I would like you to go and make some withdrawals for me. I believe you’ll need to take some signed letters to Edinburgh to begin the process. I’ll have them ready this evening. Would that be all right?”
Tate swallowed audibly. “You wish for me to leave?”
“To retrieve some of my wife’s money, yes. She has a trust, you see, and you need a letter from her asking for a withdrawal.”
“But shouldn’t I stay and help you here? What with Lady Kincade falling ill…” Tate’s hesitancy only made his guilt seem more likely, but Brock kept calm.
“We will manage for a few days without you. You may hire a coach and stay at an inn along the way.” Brock opened a drawer in his desk and retrieved a pack of banknotes he’d tucked away for emergencies and necessities. He thumbed several off the top, at least fifty pounds, far more than was needed, and gave the money to Tate. Tate’s hands folded over the slim slips of currency.
“Very well, my lord. When should I leave?”
“This evening should do. When you return, we’ll have much to do.” Brock clapped him on the shoulder, perhaps a little too hard.
