Page 77 of Again, Scoundrel

“Everything will be important, until we know otherwise.”

“He’s employed at Nowhere,” Esmee replied, avoiding her brother’s eyes. “It’s my tavern.”

“I’ve heard of it. Only for Scots, is that right?”

“No,” Alistair cut in. “I’ve had a drink there. As has Miss Goodwin.”

“Aye,” Esmee answered, disregarding Alistair as she had her brother moments ago. “‘Tis only for Scots.” She paused. “Which you well know, or you wouldn’t have asked.”

“I don’t understand,” Violet said. “What’s happening?”

“It’s frowned upon, Miss Goodwin,” Mr. Hughes said, “to speak Gaelic or even identify as a Highlander. The culture has been ruthlessly suppressed.”

“Nowhere is not Gaelic. It’s English. Even I know that.” Violet laughed uncomfortably. “And I’m an American.”

Mr. Hughes turned back to Esmee, not acknowledging Violet’s unconvincing attempt at humor.

“Nowhere,” he said, his nondescript accent mellowing into the light Scots burr of the south of the country.

“‘Tis not the actual name of the tavern though, is it, lass? You’d never call it something that wasn’t Gaelic. The real name is Chan eil àite sam bith.”

“Why would you ask if you already knew the answer?” Esmee’s voice was soft, but her eyes were focused intently on Mr. Hughes.

“Because I wanted to hear you say it.”

“Enough of that,” McGann cut in, glaring at Mr. Hughes. “Even the Queen wears her plaid now. Will you look for the lass or nay?”

Mr. Hughes nodded and pulled his eyes away from Esmee, reluctantly it seemed to Violet.

“I will,” he said, his accent back to the mild, unplaceable one he’d begun with. “I’ll start in St. Giles and will update you at four o’clock this afternoon with any news.”

He stood to leave, and Esmee hopped to her feet. “I’ll accompany you,” she said. “You’ll get further with me than without me.”

She followed Mr. Hughes quickly out of the room without a backward glance at Violet or her brother.

“What just happened?” Violet asked when the two had departed.

“He’s a damn bounder is what happened,” McGann said, leveraging his large body off the settee. “Crawford, I’ll have a word with you.”

“She’s your sister, McGann,” Alistair said. “I’ve no say in what she does. And as she’s a widow, neither would you, it seems.”

“Not about that. It’s about our funding. I’ve news.”

That brought Alistair to his feet immediately. “Why didn’t you say so? Come to my study.”

He nodded at Violet and left the room with McGann following behind him.

Well then.

She rose and smoothed her skirts. She may as well go see Davy, as everyone else seemed to have important tasks at hand. Everyone but her. It felt strange to have nothing to do or contribute.

“Off I go,” she muttered to herself and left the parlor room to find the boy.

Chapter

30

Alistair tried not to grimace as he sat back in his desk chair. His head felt like Satan’s own, but for once it was worry that was causing the ache and not an overconsumption of whisky.