Highland Heiress - By Margaret Moore Page 0,10
with such things as measurements and structure, square feet and raw materials,” Mr. Stamford continued with that same insufferable patronage. “Perhaps you don’t understand, Mr. Stamford, that as the daughter of a man of business who’s been keeping household accounts for ten years, ever since my mother died, I’m not incapable of calculating totals and expenditures,” she said, determined not to let this man think he could flatter her into believing that his estimates of the costs of materials were reasonable when they were so obviously not. “Nor, having had considerable work done on this house, am I ignorant of the costs involved when refurbishing a building. I find your estimate of the price for the necessary materials for the school and labor excessive. You’re building a school, after all, not a manor house.”
The man’s cheeks puffed out with an annoyed huff. “Far be it from me to contradict a lady. However, if one wishes to use the best materials—and I was under the impression you did—then one has to pay accordingly.”
“I want the best for the purpose,” she clarified. “The prices you’re quoting would seem to indicate you’re using wood and stone more suitable for a cathedral than a village school. We recently had the dining room of this house panelled in mahogany brought especially from Jamaica, Mr. Stamford, and the price of that mahogany was less than this quotation for the oak ceiling beams of the main schoolroom. I fail to see how that is possible, unless the oak is gilded.”
The builder’s face turned as red as lip rouge. He reached for the plans spread on the table and began to roll them up, the pages crackling and crinkling with his swift action. “If you don’t like the plans or the cost, my lady, you can always hire another man!”
“Unless you can provide me with a more reasonable quote, I may have to,” Moira replied, not a whit disturbed or intimidated by his bluster, “although I’d hate to think you’ve done so much work for nothing.”
“Nothing?” the man almost shrieked. “I expect to be paid for the time and effort I’ve already—!”
“Of course,” she smoothly interrupted, “it would be a pity to have this assignment come to a premature end.”
“Like some women’s engagements?” he retorted.
Moira managed to control the rage that spiralled through her. She wanted to dismiss him on the spot, but that would lead to a delay, which would surely upset her father. That was always something to be avoided, lest he be tempted to break his vow.
“It would also be unfortunate that you wouldn’t be able to brag about working for the Earl of Dunbrachie’s daughter anymore, as I believe you already have.”
Or so the butler had informed her, having had it from the footman, who’d been in the village tavern the night before last.
The man’s gaze finally faltered and he put the plans back on the table. “Aye, yes, well, perhaps I was a tad hasty, my lady,” he said in a conciliatory tone, “and I’m a hot-tempered fellow. I suppose we could use less oak and more pine, and maybe I don’t have to buy so much slate for the roof.”
Despite his change of manner and her relief that things could proceed as planned, there was something else she considered important to make clear. “I don’t want any corners cut. The building must be safe and sound.”
“That school will be so well built, it’ll still be standing a hundred years from now,” he assured her.
“Excellent, Mr. Stamford,” she conceded, “and if I see more realistic figures, I see no need to tell my father about our difference of opinion. Now I give you good day, sir. I’ll be by to check the progress of the school later in the week.”
“Yes, my lady. Goodbye, my lady, and I’m sure I’ll be able to find ways to economize, my lady.”
With that, he bustled out of the library as if he couldn’t get away fast enough, which was probably the case. She was just as relieved to see him go. She was well aware that her broken engagement to Sir Robert McStuart was no secret, but it was nevertheless galling to have it flung into her face.
It was even more galling to realize that Gordon McHeath had surely heard about her broken engagement by now, and from Robbie McStuart, too, she thought as she walked around the room, brushing her fingertips over the leather spines of the books that had so delighted her when they’d first