couldn’t detect any hint of disapproval in her face or her eyes.
When she didn’t immediately speak, he added, somewhat diffidently, “If you approve, I thought I could order the sign for the school together with the one for the workshop.”
Sylvia let the full implication of his suggestion sink in. The benefits would be enormous; what was surprising was that she hadn’t thought of it herself. “That,” she breathed, looking into a far more stable future, “would be marvelous.”
She refocused on Kit in time to see his quick, slightly lopsided, and, she now knew, entirely genuine smile flash into being. Eagerly, she went on, “The boys, the staff, and all associated with the school will be delighted.” To be attending a school publicly acknowledged as supported by Lord Cavanaugh would be a huge boost to the boys’ confidence and that of the staff as well. Simply having his name attached to the school would ensure ongoing funding from the parish council and the continued support of the Abbey. And it would give people like the disapproving old lady in Trinity Street reason to rethink their views.
She realized she was beaming and directed her smile at him. “That truly is a wonderful offer. On behalf of the school, I can’t thank you enough.” If he’d been less of a danger to her senses, she would have leapt up, rounded the desk, and given him an appreciative hug.
Just the thought made her feel warm, and she thrust it down and focused on the practical. “Of course, as the school exists under the Dean’s auspices, we’ll need to get his approval, but he’s a sensible man, and I can’t see him disagreeing.”
“If you could check with him,” Kit said, “I’ll speak to the prior. As the Abbey owns the hall, we should get their permission to put up a sign. That said, I expect they will welcome the suggestion—the sign will subtly link my name with the Abbey as well.”
“Yes, that’s true.” Enthusiasm bubbled through her. “I’ll speak with the Dean after the service tomorrow and send you word.”
“Excellent. I’ll visit the Abbey tomorrow as well, and with luck, I’ll be able to order the signs on Monday.”
Sylvia was still beaming. She met Kit’s eyes, and it seemed they shared a moment of perfect understanding and achievement.
“So tell me,” Kit said, pleased by the depth of their connection yet slightly unnerved by it as well, “how are the boys and the staff taking to their new digs?”
“They are close to ecstatic. When I called around yesterday to see how they were doing, the boys—”
Kit listened as she described the scene and what the teachers had said and Miss Meggs’s evident pleasure. Even more, he watched her face, marveling at the animation that infused her features when she spoke of the school—her passion. It was the same with him and yachts; he fully understood the intense satisfaction when things went right.
“And,” Sylvia continued, forearms resting on her ledgers, which she’d plainly forgotten all about, “it’s doubly fortunate that Jellicoe and Cross share lodgings just around the corner. It makes opening and locking up the school each day so much easier.”
When she focused on his eyes, he smiled back, letting her see that, in truth, he was just as pleased as she—that he shared her commitment to the school. Again, the moment held—a shimmering, intangible connection flowing between them.
The thunder of footsteps racing along the corridor tore them from their momentary fixation and had them both shifting to look at the open doorway.
A boy skidded into view, gasping, his eyes wild.
Sylvia pushed to her feet. “Eddie! What’s the matter?”
The boy made a valiant attempt to catch his breath. Grabbing hold of the door frame, he blurted, “It’s the school, miss. It’s on fire!”
Already on his feet, Kit bit back an oath. He met Sylvia’s shocked gaze, then waved her to the door. “Come on.” He caught Eddie’s shoulder, steadying the boy. He eased Eddie back into the corridor as Sylvia rushed around her desk, swiped up her reticule from the top of the bureau, and hurried after them.
Kit briefly met her eyes, then strode with Eddie toward the stairs. “Don’t try to speak yet,” Kit told the boy. “You can tell us all once we’re in a hackney.”
He heard Sylvia shut and lock her office door, then she came rushing along behind them.
They went down the stairs at a run. Emerging onto the pavement, Kit put his fingers to his lips and blew a shrill note.