The Pursuits Of Lord Kit Cavanaugh. Stephanie Laurens

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      The men’s eyes lit, and they hoisted their burdens with renewed purpose. “Thank ye, m’lord,” several called, while others tipped their heads to him.

      Kit strode ahead, meeting Sylvia as she reappeared on the hall’s porch. “There are more desks just turning into the street. And I ordered food—sandwiches and cider—for everyone. The tavern keeper’s wife said she and her girls will deliver the food here at noon.”

      Sylvia stared at him. “Thank you. I hadn’t thought...”

      He grinned. “I’m used to working with men. We get hungry. And I could hardly eat all by myself.”

      She sent him a look that seemed to say that she’d adjusted her preconceived notions of him already, then she looked into the hall. “Cross—did you hear?”

      “Aye, and very welcome the sustenance will be,” Cross called.

      Together with Sylvia, Kit set out for the warehouse again. Once they’d crossed the bridge and reached the top of King Street, he halted and turned to her. “You go ahead—I have to deal with something, but I’ll join you in ten minutes or so.”

      She looked faintly surprised, but nodded. “All right. I’ll meet you at the warehouse.”

      He saw her across the street, then turned and strode for his bank. He needed a small mound of shillings.

      When he reached the warehouse fifteen minutes later, he was vaguely aware he was clinking with every step. Ignoring that, he halted beside Sylvia near the door and scanned the almost-empty space.

      She looked up with a pleased smile. “The last of the desks has gone on its way. We’re almost finished. Just a few more packages of books.” With her head, she indicated a small pile of packages trussed up with twine. “I have to admit I had no idea the boys had borrowed so many books from the lending library. Cross and Miss Meggs take the boys to exchange and borrow new books every week.”

      “Has it proved useful—the lending library?”

      “Immensely. An adventure book is just the thing to help the boys learn to read.”

      Six of the older boys appeared, returning for their next loads.

      “We’re the last, Miss Buckleberry,” one of the boys reported. “Mr. Jellicoe and Mr. Cross kept the others back to start unpacking and putting everything away.”

      “Excellent.” Sylvia waved the group toward the pile of books. “Take one or two packages each—whatever you can safely carry. I sent Miss Meggs on, so please report to me as you go out.”

      “Yes, miss!” came the enthusiastic reply.

      With Kit, Sylvia did a quick circuit of the warehouse while the boys picked over the book pile.

      “There’s nothing left but the books,” Sylvia stated with satisfaction. “I wouldn’t have believed we could move everything so quickly. Well,” she temporized, “we wouldn’t have if we’d had to move the desks without help.” She caught Kit’s eye. “Again, thank you.”

      You can thank me by not tarring me with an undeserved brush. Kit held the words back; he had no idea why her opinion of him should matter so much. All he knew was that it did. Smiling easily, he waved at the empty space. “This is my reward.”

      She smiled back, then crossed to the door.

      As the boys, each laden with packages, trudged up to the door, Sylvia blinked at the leading pair; the two oldest lads were carrying three packages each, their arms wrapped awkwardly about the bundles. “Boys, are you sure you can manage those?”

      “Yes, miss,” the pair chorused. “We’ll manage.”

      She hesitated, clearly unsure.

      Standing behind her shoulder, Kit ducked his head and spoke softly, for her ears alone. “Let them go—they’re trying to do what they think they should in clearing the place completely. We’ll be following close behind, after all.”

      Sylvia nodded at the pair. “Just take care. If you get into difficulties, please wait, and we’ll be along shortly.”

      Kit could have told her that was a futile instruction; the last thing the lads would want was for him to see them fail in their self-appointed task.

      As the oldest lads departed, the other four trailed up to the door.

      One boy fixed Kit with an eager look. “Is it true, then, your lordship, that there’ll be food and cider for us all?”

      Kit smiled. “Yes—for everyone who helped move the school, and that definitely includes all you boys.”

      The lad beamed, then turned to the boy behind him. “Told you. His lordship’s no pinchpenny.”

      With a confident smile for Kit, the first boy led the way out, those behind him looking grateful and eager as well.

      “You’ve made friends there,” Sylvia commented.

      Kit glanced at her and arched a brow. “Boys are easy to bribe—food almost always works.”

      She chuckled, then looked at the book pile; only two packages remained. “We can take those, and then, I believe, you will have your wish—the warehouse properly and thoroughly vacated and ready for your men to move in.”

      Kit crossed to the packages and hoisted both up, tucking them under one arm. “I didn’t imagine we’d be this efficient, either, so we’ll have to wait until morning for the delivery of the timbers we’ll need, but come morning, we’ll be here.”

      His heart lifted at the thought.

      He followed Sylvia out of the open doors and helped her tug them shut. She secured the simple latch with the padlock, turned the key, then offered it to him. “I believe this is now yours.”

      Kit accepted the key and dropped it into his pocket. “Thank you.”

      In companionable mood, they set out to catch up with the boys.

      Sylvia found herself inwardly marveling. Not just at the fact they’d managed to move the school, lock, stock, and barrel, in just one morning, but also that the transfer had run so smoothly.

      A boon she was well aware she owed to the man striding so easily beside her.

      She glanced sidelong at him—just a quick glance, enough to take in his relaxed, confident, and assured expression. Just long enough to sense again the tug on her senses. That hadn’t abated with exposure, much as she’d hoped it would; he remained a lodestone for her senses, for her attention. Indeed, if anything, the result of spending more time in his company had only increased the intensity of what, in her view, remained a dangerous attraction.

      For as long as she’d been aware of it—from the first month of her London Season—Kit Cavanaugh’s reputation had painted him as a charming, dangerously flirtatious nobleman, one who was wealthy but indolent, who meant nothing by anything he said, and who was very much a care-for-naught—the sort of gentleman all sane young ladies and all careful parents avoided like the СКАЧАТЬ