The Pursuits Of Lord Kit Cavanaugh. Stephanie Laurens

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СКАЧАТЬ he released her and resumed his steady pacing alongside her.

      She decided she was not going to look his way; instead, she surveyed the pedestrians before them. “I haven’t yet caught sight of the boys—they must have rushed ahead.”

      It was close to noon, and the crowds on the quay limited how far she could see.

      Head raised, Kit was scanning the throng. “A couple of the boys are approaching the bridge.”

      As she and Kit neared the drawbridge over the Frome, she got a clear view of the two oldest lads; more heavily burdened, the pair were trudging doggedly along. The other boys with their lighter loads must have gone ahead; there was no sign of them. As by Kit’s side, she wove through the crowd, making for the steps leading up to the drawbridge, she saw the two lads struggle up the stone steps, heave their loads higher in their arms, and tramp out onto the wooden span.

      She and Kit were almost at the steps when she heard a loud hail.

      Looking up at the bridge, she saw the two school lads being bailed up by a gang of older youths. The four youths pushed and taunted the two schoolboys; it was blatantly apparent that the gang thought to enliven their day by making the younger lads drop their precious packages over the bridge’s railing into the churning waters below.

      “Oh, no!” Sylvia tensed to run forward, but Kit thrust the packages he’d been carrying at her feet, all but tripping her.

      “Wait here and watch those.”

      She had little choice as he strode to the rescue, taking the steps up to the bridge in two strides, then descending on the pack of louts like an avenging angel.

      The gang saw him coming and paused, instantly recognizing a predator of much higher status than they. But they didn’t back away from the schoolboys. Instead, the youths waited, assuming Kit—who, whatever he wore or wherever he was, carried his status like a mantle—would stride disinterestedly past and leave their victims to them.

      Kit assessed the situation with a keen eye, then veered to halt behind the two schoolboys. He dropped a hand on each lad’s shoulder. “Is there some problem here?”

      He directed the question to the lout he judged to be the leader of the gang, a gangling youth of perhaps seventeen years.

      Kit allowed his gaze to dwell, coldly, on the youth’s pasty face and waited with icy calm.

      Beneath his hands, he felt the two school lads straighten, confidence returning. One of them said, “Don’t rightly know what this lot want with us.”

      “Indeed?” Kit arched a brow at the gang leader. “Perhaps you’d like to enlighten us.”

      The other members of the gang started to edge away. The leader glanced around, then swung back to face Kit and swallowed. “Ah...no. No problem.” The youth licked his lips and added, “We was just asking if they perhaps needed a hand with them packages, is all, sir.”

      Kit allowed a shark-like smile to curve his lips. “It’s not ‘sir’—it’s ‘my lord.’ And how kind of you to volunteer to help.”

      The youth’s eyes flew wide. “Wot?”

      But Kit was already speaking to the schoolboys. “We have six packages and, all together, I see six lads before me.” He patted the schoolboys’ shoulders encouragingly. “Let’s pass the packages around to these helpful lads, and we’ll be at the school that much faster. Here—let me help.”

      Kit plucked a package out of the arms of one of the schoolboys and pushed it into the chest of the gang leader.

      Instinctively, the youth grabbed the package.

      Before his mates could flee, Kit pointed at them and beckoned. “Come along—don’t be shy.”

      In less than a minute, each of the gang members was clutching one of the packages.

      “Let’s get moving, then.” Kit waved the six toward the other end of the bridge. “Boys”—he caught the eyes of the two school lads—“why don’t you lead the way?”

      Leaving him to pace behind the gang members.

      Now carrying only one package each, the schoolboys happily took off, and reluctantly, with an almost disbelieving air, the gang fell in behind them.

      Kit watched for an instant, then turned to fetch Sylvia and the packages he’d been carrying—only to discover her a yard away with the packages at her feet.

      She met his eyes, and the amused smile on her face was something to see—a sight he hadn’t seen before but wanted to see more often. He frowned, wondering where that thought had come from. “You shouldn’t have struggled with those.”

      “They weren’t that heavy, just unwieldy.” Sylvia nodded to where the four youths were lagging and casting glances over their shoulders. “And you’ll need to keep up with that lot if we want those books to reach the school.”

      He grunted. Settling the two packages under his arm again, he fixed his gaze on the gang members, who immediately faced forward and picked up their pace. “Come on.”

      Sylvia fell in beside him.

      As they descended the steps at the other end of the bridge, she glanced at his face. “They’ll never forget that, you know.” She meant not just the gang members but also the two lads from the school—the dockyard brats who’d had a lord stand up for them.

      “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” He sounded as if he wasn’t entirely sure, then added, “I hope they’ll also remember that bullying others can have unforeseen consequences.”

      “Indeed.” She looked at the now-subdued youths walking ahead of them.

      Her mind scrolled through several vignettes from the morning—of Kit helping some of the younger boys load up, of him answering questions from the avidly curious lads. After a moment, she ventured, “You deal well with children.”

      He lightly shrugged. “I was a boy once, too.”

      “Be that as it may, you seem to have retained the ability to interact with them, which not all adults do.”

      “Ah—that’s the influence of Ryder and Mary’s brood. I spent the last weeks with them, playing at being Uncle Kit.” Briefly, he met her eyes, an amused smile in his. “Trust me when I say that my brother’s children are a very much more difficult proposition to manage than your school lads and their ilk. Aside from all else, my niece and nephews aren’t impressed by, much less cowed by, my rank.”

      She chuckled. “I hadn’t thought of that—as the children of a marquess, they share the same rank as you.”

      “And they already have the confidence that goes with that.”

      They’d reached Trinity Street, and she looked ahead to see the four youths milling uncertainly on the pavement in front of the hall, the packages they’d carried still in their arms.

      Kit had seen them, too. He touched a light hand to Sylvia’s back. “Go inside and let me handle this.”

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