A Rogue No More - Lana Williams Page 0,42

the time.

“I thought I’d come with you, Father.”

He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “If you wish.”

Before long, she and her father were riding in the carriage Aberland had sent for their use, headed toward the shipyard.

“Do you have something specific you wish to do at the office today?” Annabelle asked her father.

His green eyes, so like Caroline’s, shifted to her. “Work, of course. What else would I do there?” He frowned as he looked at her as if aware something wasn’t quite right. “Why are you accompanying me?”

“I haven’t been there in some time. I thought it might be nice for us to have a few hours together.”

Her father shook his head as if puzzled by her answer. “Women shouldn’t go to the docks.” He had old-fashioned ideas on women and their place, including his daughters.

“It’s a nice day for a carriage ride, don’t you think?” Annabelle looked out the window, hoping to change the subject before he argued.

Spending time with her father was both pleasure and pain, depending on his mood, which could change as quick as lightning. But she liked to think she’d improved her skills in keeping him calm since Caroline married.

“I suppose.” He followed her gaze out the window. “Perhaps the rain will hold off until this evening.”

Soon the carriage drew to a halt at the dock entrance, and they alighted. Annabelle requested the driver to wait.

Her father had built the Brunswick Dock over two decades ago, one of a series of docks along the River Thames. A high wall surrounded it to protect the cargo from river piracy. With Aberland’s guidance, the business had regained some of its previous prosperity.

The stench of brine, sewage, and fish had Annabelle’s nose twitching. Then there was the mud and clamor and chaos. How did one ever grow accustomed to it all? Workers hurried along—always hurrying.

Timber arrived from America and the Baltic. Foodstuffs from Canada. But with the East India Company’s grip on trade from both India and the Far East, the variety of goods on this dock was somewhat limited. Warehouses held the items, where they were sorted, packed, and loaded onto carts and wagons or ships, depending on their destination.

The far building housed the offices and Annabelle held onto her father’s arm as they walked toward it. She knew a few of the workers’ names and whispered them to her father if they greeted him or waved from afar. Many had specialized skills and had worked there for years.

Sir Reginald seemed to realize his memory was failing him at times like this as if he recognized faces and sensed he should know the person but couldn’t understand why he didn’t. The helpless look that sometimes came over his face squeezed her heart. But rather than give in to the emotions that threatened, she aided him when she could, doing her best to act as if nothing was amiss.

As his gaze swept over the bustling docks, a look of pride filled his expression. “Business appears to be good,” he said with a nod.

His obvious happiness had Annabelle smiling, pleased she’d accompanied him.

They made their way up the stairs of the building to the office where he’d spent so many of his days. The manager, Mr. Morris, was accustomed to these visits and prepared reports to review with both Sir Reginald and Aberland. The man had been apprised of the situation by Aberland and genuinely tried to be both helpful and respectful. Though organized and efficient, the manager lacked the business acumen necessary to handle additional responsibility.

How much of the reports her father understood wasn’t always clear, but for now, this seemed like the best way to deal with the circumstances.

“Good day, Mr. Morris,” Annabelle said as the stout man with a ruddy complexion and a receding hairline rose from his desk with a smile.

“Miss Gold, what a pleasure. Sir Reginald.” He bowed. “I hope the day finds you well.”

They exchanged a few pleasantries before Mr. Morris adjusted his spectacles. “I have updates on the latest activity if you’d like to review them.”

“Excellent.” Sir Reginald studied the papers Mr. Morris handed him, nodding as the manager explained various items in the neatly penned columns.

Annabelle listened with interest as well. Though not all of it made sense to her, the knowledge that Aberland would review the information was reassuring.

“What of the East India Company?” her father asked. “Have any of their representatives come by of late?”

Annabelle tightened her lips at the reminder of the pressure the Company continued to place on