They had kept matters simple and chosen to remain at the Seafarer’s Inn since they were quite comfortable there and did not need more than a bedchamber for themselves. “I’ve just heard news about your father,” he said as they neared the inn.
She paled and gripped his arm. “And?”
“It is all good, Syd,” he assured, stopping along the bustling street to place a comforting hand over hers. “He wasn’t hurt. Sir Henry did not harm him. They merely parted ways and your father set off by himself, imposing upon friends and acquaintances while he made his way home.”
“Are you certain?”
He nodded. “I expect he’s made it safely back to London by now, at no cost to himself.”
She shook her head and gave a mirthless laugh. “So typical of my father. He never pays his own way. But I am relieved he is safe. However, you do not look pleased. What else was said in the report?”
“You mistake my expression. I am pleased he wasn’t hurt, but he hasn’t changed his ways, Syd. I expect he will disrupt our lives again soon.”
She groaned while nodding in agreement. “What happened?”
“The Armstrong clan assisted in the search when the Moffat constable and his men arrived in Gretna Green. Several of Laird Armstrong’s men rode south into England and caught up with your father at one of the local inns just across the border. He was playing cards and probably cheating the other players since they reported he was on a remarkable winning streak.”
Syd sighed. “Typical.”
“But he is safe, and this is what matters. As for the Armstrong men, perhaps I misjudged them. They did us a good turn.”
“And now I feel worse for not obtaining Mr. Campbell’s sheep for them. That man is such a stubborn clot. He is quite galling. And those sheep aren’t even legitimately his. Hestolethem out of Spain.”
Octavian grinned. “The Armstrongs will survive the disappointment since it will be softened with my news. The Greenock harbor meets our requirements, so we are going to build two navy battleships here to start. Probably more will be ordered in the years to come. That means we’ll need men to build them. Locals will be hired, of course. But I’m also going to offer jobs to more of the Armstrong men. At least ten, to start. Perhaps more, depending on the local shortage.”
“Octavian, that’s wonderful,” she said with genuine cheer.
“I’ll put Jamie in charge because of his experience and knowledge of seamanship. He’s a good man and can be trusted. I just hope the laird’s son isn’t among those choosing to work here. That one’s trouble.”
Syd nodded. “Let’s hope his father decides to keep him close to home since he is next in line to be laird of their clan.”
“It is not a given,” Octavian said when they resumed walking to the inn. “A clan can vote for someone else to take over the role if they find the son lacking. Their hierarchy does not work the same as our order of ranks and titles that are pretty muchcarved in stone. A Scottish duke or earl is secure in his title which is granted through Letters Patent by the monarch. Those usually contain terms requiring passage of the title and entailed estate by primogeniture to the eldest son. But a clan laird does not receive any such grant of title. He has no guarantees that his eldest son will be next to succeed him.”
Syd was fairly well versed in such matters and had done quite a bit of reading about Scotland, especially in the field of medicine, long before their mad dash to elope. She already knew this about Scottish traditions, but did not interrupt Octavian because she enjoyed listening to him speak. There was much she still did not know, so she made it a daily practice to read up on as much history as she could while here.
She planned to do the same upon their return to England because she expected Octavian would be dashing back and forth between London and Greenock, and she hoped to join him on each trip. The inn had a small library and she often spent time in there reading everything she could find. She had even developed an interest in novels and poetry written by Scottish authors and poets.
In truth, she was developing a love for the area and its people, finding a tolerance in them and a freedom for herself that she had never experienced in London.
When they reached their bedchamber, Octavian showed her the correspondence he had received from the Armstrong laird and another from the constable. “Thank you for this, Octavian. It is a great weight off my heart.”
He stared at her a moment and grunted. “But you are still troubled. Why, Syd? Sir Henry is dead…” He paused another moment to clear his throat. “By the way, the official report states he was shot by persons unknown in an apparent robbery attempt. This is what was sent to the London magistrate by the constable in the hope of closing the investigation.”
“And that is as it shall remain,” Syd assured him. “I will never say or do anything to bring harm to the Douglas family. That beast would have killed young Matthew had he not been interrupted by the older brother. It is best to point the finger at no one.”
Octavian nodded. “Yet, you are still fretting. What is wrong, Syd? I thought the news would please you.”
“It does.” She took a moment to wash her hands properly since she hadn’t had the chance to do more than rinse them lightly after assisting in the birth. “It pleases me immensely. But we will be returning to London the day after tomorrow and…”
He arched an eyebrow. “Is it the sheep?”
She laughed lightly. “No, although it does irk me that Mr. Campbell will not sell me a single one. That man is stubborn.”
“And you’re not?” Octavian grinned and gave her a light kiss on the lips. “He’s just protecting his business, even though it is a business built on stolen goods. No competitors means higher prices for him. Basic economic theory. What really irksyouis that you could not sway him. Rest assured, not even Methuselah haranguing him for a thousand years would have accomplished it. The Armstrongs will get their sheep, albeit not the prize merinos.”
“It isn’t that, Octavian.” She dried her hands, then sank onto the bed and sighed.
He settled beside her, his closeness quite comforting to her. “Then what? Tell me, love.”
