Page 23 of To Dare the Devil

Kathy narrowed her eyes at him. “You said your reputation preceded you, so there is no need to engage in amateur dramatics.”

“I beg to disagree,” he murmured, his keen gaze sweeping the building site.

Kathy followed his gaze, pleased to see the site was as busy and orderly as she’d noted on previous visits. Mr Rogers seemed a decent, hardworking sort and she very much hoped he was not involved in stealing from the site. She thought it unlikely, for it was Mr Rogers who had brought the discrepancy to her attention.

“Have you never met Mr Rogers before, then?” Kathy whispered, aware of the man himself moving to greet them.

“No. I’ve never spoken to anyone on site. I was trying to be discreet,” Vane said, taking her hand and placing it firmly upon his sleeve.

Kathy bit her lip against an irritated exclamation, aware the foreman was within earshot. She desperately wanted to pull her hand away, too aware of the muscular arm beneath it, but she dared not make a fuss.

“Good morning, Mr Rogers,” she greeted him. “How do you do?”

“Mustn’t grumble, miss,” Rogers replied warily.

Though he had been polite, Kathy knew well that he disapproved of her presence on his site. The appearance of the finely dressed gentlemen at her side was no doubt ringing more alarm bells.

“My Lord Vane, may I present the site manager, Mr Rogers? Mr Rogers, the Earl of Vane is a near neighbour to the school. His lordship is rather troubled by our little enterprise here, I’m afraid, sir, and so I suggested a brief visit to put his mind at rest.”

“I’m just in charge of putting the building up where I’m told, my lord,” Rogers said, snatching off his cap and smoothing back his greying hair. “Further than that, ’tis Lady Elizabeth you need to speak to.”

“I am aware,” Vane drawled with a sigh. “I suppose the building looks well enough. What’s visible, at least. Only I don’t want Vane Hall besieged by cutthroats and villains. You do see, Miss de Beauvoir? It’s not at all the thing. One might get murdered in one’s bed by one of the little reprobates. Just imagine!” He tsked and shook his head, his expression mournful.

Kathy stared at him, aghast. Vane had turned into some swaggering dandy and the effect was unsettling. She hesitated, momentarily diverted by the twinkle in his eyes. The devil was enjoying himself.

“They’re only children, my lord. Not hardened criminals,” she said severely, belatedly remembering to play her part.

Vane waved a limp hand. “Tyburn blossoms,” he pronounced airily. “What’s in the carts?” he asked, apparently diverted by the delivery, which was still sitting unattended.

Kathy muttered a curse and hurried after him. Drat the man. They were supposed to wait and see who unloaded them, though no one had come to see so far and two of the drivers were looking decidedly shifty, their gazes darting about the site as if looking for someone.

“Just bricks, my lord,” Rogers called after them with a sigh that spoke volumes on his opinion of the nobility sticking their oar in on his site.

“Bricks?” Vane repeated. “What kind of bricks?”

Rogers muttered something that sounded like bricks as thick as your blasted head, but she might have been mistaken. At any rate, the fellow followed them to the carts.

“They’re London Stock bricks. Made local. Yellow clay, see. From the Thames basin,” he said, sounding hopeful that he might educate them on this small point at least.

“How fascinating,” Kathy said politely as Vane lifted a brick from the back of the cart and gazed at it as if the secrets of the universe were inscribed there.

“It is yellow,” he exclaimed, grinning. “I have a yellow waistcoat,” he offered no one in particular.

“How nice for you,” Kathy said faintly, noting the two delivery drivers giving each other anxious glances.

Vane set the brick down on the ground at his feet and lifted another. “No. Actually, my waistcoat is more canary yellow. This is… This is….”

“Ochre?” Kathy suggested helpfully as he set this brick beside the first.

“Ochre!” he exclaimed. “On the nose, Miss de Beauvoir. Well done. Mind you, this one is darker. What would you call that?” he demanded, taking two more bricks from the cart and laying those atop the others.

“Um,” Kathleen said, fidgeting as she noted one of the burly delivery drivers heading for them.

“’Ere,’” he said, his tone and stance aggressive. “Leave them bricks alone. They need unloading and accounting for.”

Alarmed, Kathy hurried to intervene. “Oh, I think we may safely rely upon Lord Vane not to steal any of your bricks, sir. Please don’t be anxious on that point.”

Vane gave a bark of laughter. “Thinks I’m going to steal his bricks, does he? Ha! That’s a good ’un.”