Page 49 of The Pursuit of Lord Kit Cavanaugh

“And then Ned can go back to living with his father?” Sylvia confirmed.

Kit nodded. “That will ease one issue, but I went a few steps further.” And he wasn’t sure, now, how they would react to his scheme. “I suggested that, after school each day, Ned should come to the workshop—to see the work his father does and appreciate what he helps to create.”

Cross and Jellicoe arched their brows, but as both thought, they slowly nodded.

“A sound idea,” Jellicoe said.

Relieved, Kit went on to explain about Jack the Lad and Kit’s notion of blending school attendance and apprenticeship, and was relieved anew to find the idea enthusiastically received.

“That’s a real step forward,” Sylvia said, her expression alight. “And now you’ve inspired me to approach other businesses and see if they might be interested in similar apprentice-school partnerships.”

Kit felt the glow he’d experienced earlier swell. “You can use my name and title, if that will help.”

Sylvia laughed and lightly touched his arm. “Oh, it’ll help. Thank you.”

Something in Kit froze; that was the first time she’d spontaneously touched him.

Cross and Jellicoe, now talking excitedly, had already donned their coats. With farewell waves, they headed for the door.

“I said I’d lock up,” Sylvia said. “Just let me get my things.”

Kit prowled in her wake and held her coat for her, then he waited while, reticule swinging, she crossed to the back door and locked it, then came walking up the hall to where he stood by the front door.

He watched her approach, her gaze shifting to either side as she checked this and that. Helping Bill Johnson and his Ned had left him feeling… He decided the word he was seeking was the one Wayland had earlier suggested: “uplifted.” He couldn’t recall setting out to deliberately help someone—a total stranger, someone he didn’t know—before. He suspected that was Sylvia’s influence rubbing off on him.

The buoyant feeling was rather addictive.

As she neared, he waved her through the door and followed, tugging the door shut behind him. He waited beside her while she locked the door and returned the key to her reticule, then—because impulse prodded and he hoped she would see the gesture as appropriate—he offered her his arm.

She paused for only a second, then flashed him a gentle smile and set her hand on his sleeve.

Pleased—a touch relieved—he guided her down the steps, then started them pacing in relaxed fashion along the pavement. Although they’d walked together through the city several times, this was the first time since Rand’s wedding he’d walked with her properly on his arm. The effect of having her just that bit closer feathered across his senses; her long legs set a stride that was easy for him to match, and her unconscious gracefulness captivated the more predatory part of his mind.

With some effort, he drew his thoughts from such simple pleasures and focused on the here and now. “Are you heading to your office or your lodgings?”

“Lodgings,” she replied, her gaze on the flagstones ahead of them. “I’ve finished all I need to do today.”

He saw her glance across the street at the Stenshaw residence. As she looked ahead again, he said, “Incidentally, have you been troubled by that sensation of being watched today?”

A slight frown tangled her brows; she was tall enough that he didn’t have to bend his head to see her face. “Now that you mention it, no.” She met his eyes. “Not this morning when I walked to the office, and not when I walked over here, either.”

“Johnson admitted he’d been watching the school—trying to catch glimpses of Ned without Ned or anyone else seeing him. He also said he’d watched you over recent days, trying to get up the courage to speak to you.”

“Oh.” Her face cleared. “That must have been what I sensed.”

Kit tipped his head. “Possibly. But now that Johnson is working at Cavanaugh Yachts, you shouldn’t feel that odd sensation again.”

Sylvia smiled a touch self-deprecatingly. “It’s a relief to know it was something so innocent. It must have been the aftermath of the fire that made me think there was something…malevolent in the gaze.”

The word “malevolent” disturbed Kit; he couldn’t imagine that Johnson’s anguished but innocent staring would have triggered such a feeling, fire or not.

They reached the Butts and turned toward the bridge. Sylvia lightly gripped his arm, refocusing his attention. “You know how things at the school are going. So tell me about your progress at the workshop.” She turned bright eyes on him. “How is work on your first boat going?”

“Ship,” he corrected, all but instinctively. Then he tipped his head. “But more accurately, yacht.”

The look she sent him was playfully long-suffering. “Your first yacht, then.”

He paused to help her onto the drawbridge. As they fell into step again, he said, “Unfortunately, we suffered an unexpected setback.” He met her questioning, incipiently concerned gaze. “On Monday night or early Tuesday morning, someone broke in and sabotaged the work we’d done on our first keel.”