Page 29 of The Pursuit of Lord Kit Cavanaugh

Kit continued, enumerating the various local bodies who, in addition to himself, supported the school—namely the Abbey, the Dean, and the Christ Church Parish Council. “Naturally, I also have contacts on the Dock Company board, including the mayor and several aldermen.” Kit was willing to wager a significant sum that Peabody would not contemplate opposing any institution with such wide-ranging support. “I believe you—and your complainant—will discover that the general tide of civic responsibility is firmly behind the school.”

And if necessary, Kit would ensure that was so.

Peabody was clever enough to sense the concealed threat. After a moment of weighing his options, he drew in a long breath, then gravely inclined his head. “Clearly, my lord, I had little notion of the true situation regarding the school. In the circumstances, I will endeavor to convey to the complainant the…er…”

Kit smiled. “The futility of attempting to oust the school?”

Peabody’s lips primmed, but again, he inclined his head. “Just so, my lord.” After a second’s pause, Peabody reached into his pocket, extracted a card, and offered it. “My card, my lord. If there is any way in which I can assist you in your…civic endeavors, please don’t hesitate to call on me.”

Kit smiled a perfectly genuine smile. “Thank you, councilor. We will hope the school and all its works prosper.”

That was a trifle rich for Peabody, but all he returned was “Indeed.” With a brief bow and a “my lord,” Peabody beat a strategic retreat.

Grinning, Kit watched him stride off across the cobbles, then turned inside to discover Miss Petty, Jack, and all the men—with the exception of Wayland—regarding him quizzically.

Kit arched his brows. “What?”

The men shook their heads, but Jack blurted, “You told him to pull in his head.”

Kit considered Jack, then mildly said, “Not, you will note, in those words.”

The men chortled. Miss Petty looked prim, but pleased.

Kit threw an arm around Jack’s bony shoulders and steered him back to the gantry. “Now, where were we?”

They worked like navvies, and by the end of the day, they’d hoisted the gantry, now a moveable frame suspended from the massive braced beams and running along the attached struts, above the workshop floor.

Miss Petty had left by then, but Kit, Wayland, Mulligan, and the carpenters—and Jack—stood looking up at their creation with, at least on Kit’s part, immense satisfaction.

He was in an excellent mood, not solely because of how much they’d managed to accomplish in the workshop, but because Sylvia had sent Peabody his way. Kit realized that, in his mind, he already saw himself as the principal champion of the school—and the fact Sylvia apparently viewed him in a similar light set warmth unfurling inside him.

That curious and richly satisfying glow filled his chest. He liked to feel needed, liked to make things happen—good things like bringing a yacht-building workshop into existence in a city starved of the jobs such an enterprise created. Like helping a threatened school to carry on and protecting it from those wishing it ill.

Helping Sylvia, helping the teachers, the boys, and all at the school, helping Wayland manifest his dreams, helping Mulligan and his crew and Jack the Lad…and, ultimately, helping himself.

For him, helping others in one guise or another was how he’d always found his greatest satisfaction, his deepest content.

He paid the men—and Jack—for the day, adding a little extra to each man’s wage and a little bit more again to Jack’s in appreciation of their sterling efforts.

His mood remained buoyant as he farewelled the men and Jack, then helped Wayland lock up the warehouse.

After parting from Wayland, Kit turned his footsteps toward his new home.

His heart felt remarkably light. He was in what Wayland had termed an uplifted mood, and he owed much of that to Sylvia and her willingness to accept his protection for her school.

CHAPTER 6

The following day was Saturday, a half day for most workers. Kit and Wayland joined Mulligan and the others in finishing off the gantry and the partitions for the offices.

After the men left at midday, Kit and Wayland continued lining the offices with oak planks.

At one point, Wayland stood, stretched, then shifted to stare out at their evolving workshop. “I can’t quite believe we’re not only here, but have got this far so quickly.”

Crouched by one wall with nails held between his teeth, Kit merely nodded. Once he’d used the nails to secure the next plank, he replied, “It is hard to take in. Everything’s fallen into place, and how often does that happen?” He rose, stretched his back, then joined Wayland at what would soon be the door to Wayland’s design office. “The offices won’t be ready on Monday, but the workshop is.” Kit couldn’t keep the enthusiasm from his voice. “We’ll be ready to welcome our workforce and plunge into the first project.”

Wayland nodded, his eagerness apparent. “I think we should set one team to finish the offices—perhaps under Shaw. He has a fine eye for detail. I’ll need the space soon, and I suspect Miss Petty will be glad to take possession of her office here, too.”

“No doubt. She’s another unexpected boon—who would have thought we’d find a secretary with actual experience of this sort of business?”