“He does, indeed.” Kit noticed a gentleman sporting a cane—one more for show than use—walking briskly toward the workshop door. “Who’s this, I wonder?”
Miss Petty looked, then swept around. “I will ask, my lord. One moment.”
Bemused, Kit watched as Miss Petty sailed up as the gentleman, seeing her coming, halted just outside the open doors. Straining his ears over the steady din of hammering, Kit heard Miss Petty inquire, “Can I help you, sir?”
The gentleman looked rather peeved to have been forestalled, but he offered, “Councilor Peabody to see Lord Cavanaugh. It’s about the school.”
“Please wait here, and I will inquire as to whether his lordship is available.” Miss Petty swung around and walked toward Kit, her eyes widening in question.
Realizing that his remarkable secretary was giving him a chance to avoid the man, Kit sent her a nod of thanks and moved forward, passing her on his way to the door.
Fetching up before the shorter man, Kit arched his brows. “Lord Cavanaugh. What did you wish to say about the school?”
“My name is Peabody, my lord—Councilor Peabody.” Peabody sketched a bow, then straightened and fixed Kit with a man-to-man look. “I have the honor of being the councilor for Abbey Ward, into which neighborhood the school that previously occupied this warehouse has moved. I spoke with the school administrator this morning, and she directed me to you—she claimed you have agreed to stand as sponsor to the school?”
Kit inclined his head. “I have.”
Peabody looked ingratiating. “I understand that you have underwritten the transfer of the school to its new premises and that Prior Robert—a godly man with scant experience of secular matters—at your petition, agreed to the school moving into the Abbey’s hall. However, I suspect no one in the city has yet made known to you the...ah, community expectations that apply in various areas. For instance”—Peabody gestured widely—“this area, around the docks and harbor, plays host to homes that house dockside and shipyard workers, as is sensible. In contrast, the area around the Abbey is inhabited by citizens of rather higher social standing. To relocate a school for dockyard brats to such an area risks disrupting the social norms.”
Despite having taken a deep dislike to the man, Kit kept his expression unreadable and arched his brows. “Is that so? Pray tell, which of society’s norms do you consider to be at risk?”
Peabody blinked. The silence stretched as he patently tried to find acceptable words in which to cloak his complaint.
Kit made no move to help him out and simply waited.
Peabody’s color rose, then he harrumphed and said, “Social norms such as in which areas the various classes live.”
“I wasn’t aware the city imposes restrictions on where people of various classes reside.” Kit kept his tone mild. “But regardless, the boys are only visiting, as it were. They’re not taking up residence in Trinity Street.”
“Be that as it may,” Peabody huffed, “those who do live in Trinity Street are complaining!”
“Indeed?” Kit looked thoughtful. “The school relocated yesterday—today was the first day of classes. How many people have complained?”
Peabody looked frustrated. He glowered. “When even one of my constituents complain, it is incumbent on me to act.”
“Indeed.” Kit smiled, the epitome of helpfulness. “You’ve acted and brought the complaint to my notice. Sadly for whoever complained, I’m less than impressed.”
Peabody started to gobble, but Kit rolled on, ruthlessly charming. “You see, I happen to adhere to the doctrine espoused by Prince Albert and the Queen regarding the education of the poor.” He continued, smoothly explainin
g the belief that education could alleviate poverty. “And you must admit that in a city suffering under the difficulties currently afflicting Bristol, then it is—to use your phrase—incumbent on every gentleman to do his part. Why, my brother the marquess and his wife have established several schools in their area, and at the moment, it’s a rather more prosperous one than Bristol.”
Enough of Kit’s words penetrated Peabody’s brain that, judging by his expression, his belief in the righteousness of his complaint started to falter.
Kit continued, enumerating the various local bodies who, in addition to himself, supported the school—namely the Abbey, the Dean, and the Christ Church Parish Council. “Naturally, I also have contacts on the Dock Company board, including the mayor and several aldermen.” Kit was willing to wager a significant sum that Peabody would not contemplate opposing any institution with such wide-ranging support. “I believe you—and your complainant—will discover that the general tide of civic responsibility is firmly behind the school.”
And if necessary, Kit would ensure that was so.
Peabody was clever enough to sense the concealed threat. After a moment of weighing his options, he drew in a long breath, then gravely inclined his head. “Clearly, my lord, I had little notion of the true situation regarding the school. In the circumstances, I will endeavor to convey to the complainant the...er...”
Kit smiled. “The futility of attempting to oust the school?”
Peabody’s lips primmed, but again, he inclined his head. “Just so, my lord.” After a second’s pause, Peabody reached into his pocket, extracted a card, and offered it. “My card, my lord. If there is any way in which I can assist you in your...civic endeavors, please don’t hesitate to call on me.”
Kit smiled a perfectly genuine smile. “Thank you, councilor. We will hope the school and all its works prosper.”
That was a trifle rich for Peabody, but all he returned was “Indeed.” With a brief bow and a “my lord,” Peabody beat a strategic retreat.
Grinning, Kit watched him stride off across the cobbles, then turned inside to discover Miss Petty, Jack, and all the men—with the exception of Wayland—regarding him quizzically.