Chapter 11
The following afternoon, Kit tracked Sylvia to the school.
He’d spent half the night plotting and planning and had settled on a strategy and a course of action.
After spending most of the day at the workshop, mentally rehearsing his approach while working alongside Wayland and the men, he’d set off for Sylvia’s office, girded his loins, and knocked on the door, only to discover she wasn’t there.
As he climbed the school steps, he heard her voice, and a curious mix of trepidation and anticipation slid through him. He couldn’t recall feeling the like for more than a decade, not since he’d been a wet-behind-the-ears youth who’d just come on the town.
And even then…
Then, the outcome hadn’t really mattered.
Now, it did.
He stood back to allow two boys to barrel through the door, then ducked inside before the next group clogged the entry.
To one side, Sylvia and Miss Meggs were discussing something in some book.
When they looked up, smiles lighting both their faces, he quashed his instinctive impulse to cross to them—to Sylvia—and, instead, raised a hand in a salute and continued down the hall to where Cross and Jellicoe had just dismissed the older lads and now stood comparing notes.
The teachers saw Kit coming and turned to greet him.
He had his excuses for calling polished and ready; he halted before the pair and, after exchanging nods, said, “I came to see how Ned was today—whether he’d heard his father’s good news and, if so, how he was taking it.”
Both Cross’s and Jellicoe’s faces creased with smiles.
“He’s a different lad,” Cross said. “It’s as if a spark that should have been glowing inside him all this time has ignited again.”
Jellicoe nodded. “That’s not a bad description.
From what I overheard him telling the other lads at lunchtime, his father called at his aunt’s house last night and told Ned of his new job and that you’d offered to stand guarantor for him renting another place to live, and that once that was done, Ned could live with him again. ”
“A transformation is the only way to describe it,” Cross averred. “We’d put Ned down as naturally quiet, but it seems that’s not the case at all.”
Jellicoe’s lips twitched. “No, indeed, but along with his sudden liveliness has come a renewed determination to succeed with his lessons. Whether his father actually said so or if Ned is reading between the lines, it seems he’s realized that his father might end quite proud of him for his learning. ”
“And your suggestion of Ned going to the workshop after school was inspired,” Cross said. “He used to be one of the dawdlers, but today, he was out of here like a shot the instant we ended the last lesson.”
Jellicoe chuckled. “The one drawback I foresee to your plan is that you might well find you have a small platoon of boys hovering about your workshop door and goggling at your men.”
Kit grinned. “I’m sure the men will take that in stride.
And if they don’t, I can rely on my secretary, Miss Petty, to sort the boys out.
” Kit tipped his head. “Who knows? As the boys grow older, we might end with more school-apprentice arrangements. Speaking of which, how is Ollie faring? He’s also in something of a school-apprenticeship situation, although in his case, he’s training for domestic service.
My majordomo reports that Ollie’s bright and quick-witted.
Gordon thinks that, depending on how Ollie grows, he might be able to go as a footman or even aspire to becoming a butler. ”
“I wouldn’t disagree with that assessment.
” Jellicoe exchanged a look with Cross. “We’ve been putting Ollie through his paces to see what level of schooling he needs.
” Jellicoe met Kit’s eyes. “We’ve also noticed his quick thinking, and in light of what you’ve just said, I rather think we’ll work with Ollie to move him along rather faster. ”
Cross returned from fetching his coat and Jellicoe’s.
Handing Jellicoe’s over, Cross humphed. “Ollie’s an excellent example of the waste of good intellect that occurs when children are forced into service too young.
” Shrugging on his coat, Cross grinned at Kit.
“Thankfully, we have our hooks in him now, and with luck, he’ll reach his full potential. ”
His questions about Ned and Ollie had been intended to account for his appearance at the school, but nevertheless, Kit felt gratified. That warm glow opened up inside him again and spread through his chest.
He sauntered beside Cross and Jellicoe as the pair walked to the door. Miss Meggs had departed, and Sylvia was waiting, a smile for them all on her face.
Cross and Jellicoe said their farewells and departed, leaving Sylvia smiling at Kit. “I heard you asking about Ned and Ollie. Did Cross and Jellicoe fill you in?”
He nodded and waved her to precede him through the door. “They did, indeed.” Following her into the weak sunshine, he added, “I’m glad both boys are, it seems, applying themselves with enthusiasm.”
“Oh, they definitely are.” Sylvia turned to lock the door. “Miss Meggs said Ned was bouncing with happiness, and Ollie seems to have settled in quickly.”
When, after stuffing the heavy key into her reticule, she swung back to the pavement, Kit offered his arm. She stared at it for a second, then, instead of setting her hand upon it—keeping him at a greater distance—she stepped nearer and tucked her gloved hand in the crook of his elbow.
His confidence regarding her and his strategy leapt and surged. He guided her down the steps and, strolling like any other couple, they set course for the Frome and the city beyond.
He’d planned on waiting to take the next step in his carefully considered campaign until they were closer to her lodgings—so if she declined and things grew awkward, they wouldn’t have far to go in each other’s company—but now, he realized there would be much more noise and a lot of other distractions the farther they went.
It was more peaceful here, on the west bank of the Frome, and his natural impulsiveness was pushing and prodding him to take advantage of the moment and ask her now.
Surreptitiously, he cleared his throat, then, in an even tone, ventured, “There’s to be a classical music concert at the Council House hall this Friday evening. I wondered if, enjoying music as you do, you would like to accompany me to the event.”
She turned her head and looked at him. For several seconds, she simply stared, and he was unable to read anything at all in her face.
Trepidation welled, and his gut chilled. “I thought,” he offered, having to restrain himself from babbling, “that with the entire outing in public, as it were, it would be entirely above board, and you wouldn’t require a chaperon.” He’d intended explaining that before actually asking her.
She blinked up at him.
For the first time in his life, he understood what being on tenterhooks felt like.
Then her eyes focused on his, and a smile curved her lips. “Thank you.” She dipped her head and faced forward. “I would enjoy that.”
He felt ridiculously pleased—as if he’d succeeded in securing far more than her agreement to attend a concert.
Given her previous view of him, perhaps he had.
He could hope that her acceptance meant she’d laid aside all previous judgments of him and had, at least to some degree, reassessed.
As he steered her through the crowd on the Butts and on toward the steps to the drawbridge, he told himself it was only a small victory—a public concert, for heaven’s sake!
He still felt thrilled that she’d agreed to go with him.
They covered the distance to her office with both of them smiling—in her case, with her habitual serenity, in his, rather inanely.
He escorted her to her office and, propping his shoulder against the door frame, watched as she tidied papers and files away.
Sylvia hoped she was putting things away in the right places. She was operating entirely by rote, her mind scrambling to adjust to a reality that, despite their recent equable interactions, she hadn’t allowed herself to contemplate.
Going to a public concert with Lord Kit Cavanaugh. Walking into the Council House hall on his arm, beneath the interested eyes of the cream of local society…
Did he realize that was what it would be like? Did he have any inkling how local society would interpret such a sighting?
She ducked her head, swallowing the scoffing sound she’d nearly given vent to. Of course he realized. He might not be the rakehell she’d imagined him, but he’d been raised within the ton. He understood the nuances of social behavior very likely better than she did.
Almost certainly better than she did…
Him asking her to accompany him did mean what she thought it meant, didn’t it?
For a second, uncertainty rose and shook her, then she realized she was merely giddy.
Hardly surprising when a situation she’d fantasized about—admittedly with a very different imaginary man—was on the cusp of coming true. And with a gentleman who was much more to her taste than her imaginary lord had ever been.
Placing a stack of papers in her bottom drawer, she glanced at her desktop and found it cleared. She drew in a deep breath and straightened. She had to get a grip on her wayward senses before she did something truly foolish—like smile at him with stars in her eyes.
She looked at him and smiled—and fought to ensure it was an appropriate expression rather than one too revealing. “There’s nothing more I need to do here.” She picked up her reticule and walked toward the door.
He watched her approach, then stepped back and waved her into the corridor. “In that case, I’ll escort you wherever you intend to go.”
She had intended to pick up some laundry, but that seemed far too mundane an activity to do with him by her side.
They stepped onto the pavement of Broad Street, and he offered her his arm. She took it, feeling steel beneath her fingertips, then hesitated.
He glanced at her face. “Your lodgings?”