Page 90 of A Scot in the Storm
“Aye.”
Cathcart dipped the quill again. “The men say she handles instruments.”
“Calipers. Measuring tools. Files.”
“The men also say she sees faults before trained engineers.”
Rory said simply, “aye, because she does.”
That earned him another long look. Interesting. The magistrate had expected hesitation.
Cathcart turned another page. “So she’s educated?”
“Aye.”
“More than most women?”
“Considerably.”
“And that troubles ye not at all?”
Rory nearly smiled despite himself. “My housekeeper terrifies grown men with a soup ladle. I’ve long since abandoned rigid expectations regarding women.”
Something flickered very briefly across Cathcart’s face. Not amusement exactly. But close enough as the magistrate reached for his tea instead. Steam curled faintly upward between them.
“In Aberdeen,” Cathcart said mildly, “there’s a physician’s daughter who translates Greek badly enough to create theological arguments at supper. Last Christmas she attempted Latin with a bishop and accidentally informed him his sermon had caused her horse constipation.”
Rory blinked once as Cathcart took another sip of tea.
“Her mother nearly expired where she stood.”
Despite himself, Rory barked a laugh.
The magistrate looked almost disappointed by the success of the story.
“Women with education,” Cathcart continued calmly, “rarely concern me half so much as men determined to prevent it.”
The wind pressed softly against the shutters again. Rory found himself studying the other man differently now. He rose, went to the sideboard and came back with a bottle.
“Will ye have a drop?”
The magistrate nodded, and held out his cup as Rory splashed a generous amount of whisky into the tea.
“The concern before the Commissioners is not whether the woman can calculate bearings, Captain.” His voice remained level. “The concern is whether she compromises your judgment.”
There it was at last. Rory looked toward the workshop door before answering.
“She’s the reason the lighting remains possible ahead of schedule.”
“Professional admiration can still cloud a man’s judgment.”
“She saved us three weeks on the upper calibration.”
“She may also be lying to you.”
Rory’s jaw tightened.
“Has it occurred to you,” the magistrate asked, “that an intelligent woman alone in an unfamiliar country might say precisely whatever ensured her protection?”
