The Pursuits Of Lord Kit Cavanaugh. Stephanie Laurens
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you can break the good news.”
Kit followed her through the door. He halted just inside. In his mind, he could already see the transformation of the space that he and Wayland had planned. While Wayland busied himself checking on his orders and interviewing men for the key role of foreman as well as hiring a small team of carpenters to make a start on their necessary alterations, Kit had elected to devote himself to ensuring that the school’s vacating of the warehouse went smoothly.
Ahead of him, Sylvia came to a halt before the two rows of desks that were now lined up across the warehouse floor. Two gentlemen—Kit judged them to be much of an age with himself—both neatly and conservatively dressed, had been standing before the desks, one to either side, addressing the boys before them; having heard Sylvia’s heels on the boards, they, along with their pupils, had turned their attention to her.
She tipped her head to each man. “Mr. Jellicoe. Mr. Cross. If I could have a moment of everyone’s time, I have an announcement to make.”
Her expression gave away her news—or at least, it’s nature; the looks on the boys’ faces as they stared at her could only be described as ones of rising hope.
Assured of everyone’s attention, her hands clasped before her, she stated, “Yesterday evening, courtesy of Lord Cavanaugh”—she glanced back at Kit, still standing just inside the door, gracefully waved in his direction, then turned back to her audience—“the lease on a hall in Trinity Street was secured for the school. We have new premises, and they are a great deal better than this warehouse.”
The cheer that erupted from the boys and staff matched the joy and relief that suffused their faces.
Several of the older boys thumped on their desks, and the others took up the drumbeat.
The teachers glanced at Kit, and he inclined his head to them, and they nodded politely in return. Then at a smiling word from Sylvia, both teachers turned back to their charges and waved them to silence.
Somewhat to Kit’s surprise, silence returned quite quickly.
Into it, Sylvia said, “Lord Cavanaugh is the owner of the business that has leased this warehouse, and once he learned of the school, he kindly agreed to fund the lease for our new school hall. In return, I agreed that we would move to our new hall today. I’m therefore declaring today a holiday—at least from your studies. However, I expect every one of you to assist us—me, Mr. Jellicoe, Mr. Cross, and Miss Meggs, too, once she comes in, and Lord Cavanaugh, who has come to help as well—to move all the school’s furniture, books, boards, slates, supplies, and all to our new hall.”
Wily Sylvia. Kit had already noted the curiosity that had flared in every boy’s face at the revelation that he was a lord; for such boys, nobles were a rarely encountered species. By mentioning that he would be helping with the move, Sylvia had ensured that every single boy would remain to do their part.
Eager agreement abounded, and when Sylvia asked if any of the boys had older male relatives who might be free to help for a price, five hands shot into the air.
Kit raised his voice. “You can tell anyone who agrees to help that the rate will be three shillings for the day.” That was the current rate for laborers on the docks.
The boys who’d raised their hands leapt to their feet.
Sylvia gave them leave to run home and ask and return to the warehouse promptly with anyone willing to help. The other boys she directed to start gathering their books and slates.
Kit walked forward, allowing the boys leaving free access to the door. They grinned at him as they passed, and some bobbed their heads and murmured, “Your lordship.”
Kit grinned back at them, which sent their grins even wider, then they were gone.
Jellicoe and Cross approached as Kit halted. He had no difficulty in pegging both as younger sons of the gentry who’d had to make their own way; from their families, they would have received a sound education, but little else.
Jellicoe held out his hand. “Thank you, my lord. We were fearing that the school would close, and that would have been the end for these boys’ educations.”
“Indeed.” Cross waited until Kit released Jellicoe’s hand to offer his own. “You might not realize it, but this is a very good deed you’ve done, my lord.”
Kit shifted, uncomfortable with the praise. “Don’t credit me with too much altruism, gentlemen—I wanted the warehouse as soon as possible and finding the school new premises seemed the easiest way to that goal.”
Neither Jellicoe nor Cross looked as if they believed him, and in truth, gaining the use of the warehouse early had never been Kit’s primary objective. Acknowledging that, he added, “However, I do support the notion of education for the masses, so I was happy to help in this way.” And seeing the transformation in the faces of the boys and the teachers had already been sufficient reward.
That, both teachers accepted. As Sylvia came to join them, they looked at her with an eagerness to rival their pupils’.
“How should we do this?” Cross asked.
Kit listened as Sylvia outlined a plan to move the heavier items first—the desks and the two blackboards; Kit assumed the latter had been brought in by the teachers—they hadn’t been there when he and Wayland had viewed the space.
“Once we have those arranged in the new hall,” Sylvia went on, “we can return here and ferry everything else across.” She paused, then added, “I don’t want the boys struggling with anything they might drop while they’re crossing the Frome.”
“No, indeed.” Jellicoe looked at the boys who had remained in the warehouse; they were busily emptying the desks and stacking books, slates, chalks, and papers on the tops. “We’ll need at least two trips for the smaller stuff, and depending on how many men turn up, at least two for the desks and boards. Even emptied, those desks are too unwieldy for any one man to manage on his own—even a dockyard navvy.”
Just then, a thin, faded older lady, gray hair pulled back in a tight bun, walked into the warehouse.
“Miss Meggs.” Sylvia went forward to greet her. “I’m relieved to say that we’ve had some excellent news.”
While Sylvia explained about the new school hall, bringing a relieved expression to Miss Meggs’s face, Jellicoe murmured, “Our assistant. She’s a good soul and handles the boys surprisingly well.”
Cross softly huffed. “I think the boys see her as a vague but doting aunt they need to take care of—which is not a bad thing.”
Jellicoe laughed softly. “I think she plays up to that—when it comes to organizing our lessons, she’s as sharp as a tack.”
Kit watched Sylvia animatedly explaining the school’s change in circumstances to the older woman. Their meeting with the prior the previous evening had gone much as he’d anticipated, with one major difference; the prior, Sylvia, and Kit had discussed various payment options, and, in the end, in order to avoid any future onus falling on Sylvia regarding the rent, they had agreed—Kit reluctantly—to put the lease in his name, with him making payments directly to the Abbey, rather than having Sylvia’s name on the lease, with him standing as formal guarantor, and the payments routed through her. While she’d been perfectly content with the arrangement, Kit had to wonder if she realized just how much at his mercy that left the school. Of course, he would never do anything untoward, like renege on payments or cancel the lease, but she didn’t know that. He’d ended with the distinct impression that Miss Sylvia Buckleberry, clergyman’s daughter, trusted too easily for her own good.
Except, of course, when it came to him, but he was working on that.
One of the boys who’d gone to fetch family members returned, towing his older brother by the sleeve. The pair were quickly followed by the other four boys with their willing elders in tow. Most weren’t fathers but older brothers and cousins, hale and strong from working on the docks. When all were assembled,