Howdy, for pity’s sake! When no self-respecting Yankee who resided north of the Carolinas ever uttered such a southern colloquialism. He had grown up in a tavern in New York City, for pity’s sake, not a tobacco farm in Tennessee!
“Thisisa bizarre coincidence.” The lie made his stupid throattighten some more, and caused it to do unflattering things to his voice. Really, no self-respecting grown man’s vocal cords should squeak. He swallowed to lubricate them but was horrified when the squeak then turned into an irregular croak. “What brings you here?” His constricted throat burped out the words like a bullfrog.
“Why, books of course.” She swept her arm around them in amusement at his patently stupid question. “Isn’t that what usually draws a person into a bookshop?”
Scrambling for something more erudite to reply without sounding like either a mouse or a toad again, he scanned the shelf in front of him for some inspiration and pulled a face. “But this is the novels section, Miss Venus. Far-fetched tales of intrigue and derring-do written to entertain the lowly, educationally inferior masses rather than the weighty, learned tomes you usually read.” Great. Instead of erudite—and on the magnificent back of “Howdy!”—he had plumped for insulting.
“I read as many novels as I do learned tomes, Galahad.” For once she didn’t bristle at one of his barbs. “But ironically, it is the entertainment of the masses that has brought me here today as I am using my pin money to treat the orphanage to some new books. Preferably novels filled with intrigue and derring-do, as I am of the firm opinion that children deserve to read for fun as well as for education.” She squared her shoulders as if expecting criticism for that opinion. “Some might disagree with my teaching methods, and think novels are silly fictional flights of fancy that hold no great educational value to improve impressionable young minds, but I have always found a love of reading leads to a love of learning. That is certainly what has always fueled my thirst for knowledge, so I shall teach from thoseinferiorbooks regardless.”
“As I prefer a flight of fancy over a weighty tome any day, you’ll hear no arguments from me. I’m no teacher, but it seems to me that impressionable young minds surely need opening before you can fill them.”
“Exactly!”
Glad that he’d managed to say at least one sentence without eithersqueaking or burping, but still floundering thanks to the beautiful smile that hadn’t faded, Gal gestured to the three boys who had gathered behind her, the two tallest of whom were eyeing him with proprietorial curiosity. “Who are your friends?” By the identical features, matching red hair, and gangly, almost-adolescent-but-not-quite bodies, he had already worked out that those two freckle-faced sentries were the infamous Claypole twins.
“We were about to ask you the same thing, Miss Merriwell.” The twin on the left folded his arms, eyeing Gal like an enemy. “We were worried this bloke was bothering you.”
“Mr. Sinclair is an old family friend so he isn’t bothering me in the slightest.” She smiled at the boys as she motioned them forward. “This is Tommy, and this is Sydney Claypole.” She swept her hand decisively toward each as if she had no problem telling them apart, although how she could was beyond Gal when they were two ginger peas in a pod. “Who I have had the grave misfortune of teaching these past four years. And this young man is Billy Tubbs. Billy only joined the orphanage recently after the reverend found him on Drury Lane. Boys, say hello to Mr. Sinclair.”
“Hello, Mr. Sinclair.” It was said in impressive, parroted, and broad cockney unison, but that did little to disguise their obvious suspicions. Suspicions about a stranger’s character that he well understood and respected more than they could possibly know.
To disarm them and stop them glaring as if he was a potential danger to their beloved teacher—or worse, themselves—Gal smiled at the twins. “I hear you boys have a fondness for jam and spiders.”
“They have more of a fondness for mischief and mayheminvolvingjam and spiders, Mr. Sinclair.” She answered for them with a roll of her eyes. “And have been seconded here today to carry all my shopping as part of their ongoing penance for both pranks.”
“I suppose that’s only fitting after ruining a pair of bedroom slippers this week on the back of scaring all those young ladies witless.” Gal was being purposefully familiar with their antics to reinforce thefact that he was indeed an old family friend of Miss Venus’s, but he allowed the twins to see he was impressed by their industry, too, to win them over. “While we’re on the subject of that earlier incident, I’ll confess I’m curious, boys—where on earth did you harvest so many spiders at this time of year? From what I heard, the girls’ dormitory was crawling with critters.”
“The cellar,” said Sydney with a proud grin, thrilled that an adult was interested in him at all. “There’s more spiders in there right now than you can shake a stick at.” That earned him a warning glance from his brother, which he ignored. “Especially in the wintertime, as they are hiding from the cold.”
“You solemnly swore to me that you found them all in the yard!” Miss Venus’s cinnamon brows had furrowed, but uniquely at Tommy and not at Sydney who had unwittingly made the confession. “How on earth did you get into the cellar again when I made sure that it was double-padlocked after last time?”
Tommy glared at his brother first in an I-told-you-not-to-say-anything kind of way, then shrugged all innocence. “Somebody left it open, miss.”
She eyed Tommy, who was clearly the mastermind behind the Claypoles’ shenanigans, in exasperation. “Or somebody picked the lock to the key cupboard again.” Her hands went to her beguiling hips. “How many times do I need to tell you, young man, that just because youcanpick a lock doesn’t mean that youshould?”
The boy hung his head in mock shame. “I’m sorry, Miss Merriwell.”
“And how many times must we discuss how unacceptable it is to lie, Tommy?” She wagged her finger in time with her chiding words. “Pranks involving spiders are atrocious. Breaking and entering is illegal. But lying is downrightdespicableand I will not tolerate it!”
The boy shuffled from foot to foot as he stared at them. “I’m sorry about that, too, Miss Merriwell.”
“If you were truly sorry, Tommy, I wouldn’t have to keep repeating myself about the same unfortunate behaviors, now, would I?” Shestared unblinking at the lad until he withered under her glare, then shooed him away. “Go make a start on that list of books I gave you while I consider how to punish you for breaking into the cellar andlyingto me about it!” Her curled lip left the boy in no doubt she was more aggrieved at the latter of that pair of sins. “Two of everything and pile them neatly on the counter.” Her schoolmistress’s finger wagged again. “Woe betide anyone who doesn’t behave in the most exemplary fashion! That most especially goes for you, Tommy Claypole!”
All three boys hurried off to do her bidding, and she huffed out a sigh. “Honestly, I swear that whatever I say to that boy goes in one ear and out the other.”
“Yet he still absolutely adores you.” That was as plain as the freckles on the young miscreant’s face. “Having seen it with my own eyes, I am more convinced than I was before that he misbehaves to get your attention.”
“As much as I hate to give you any credit for anything, Galahad Sinclair, I suspect you might be right.” She glanced over at the subdued boy and shook her head. “Although I haven’t yet figured out how to stop it. Tommy Claypole is, and always has been, an unstoppable force of nature and a hard nut to crack.”
Gal took a moment to study him, watching how the boy took charge and dispatched the other two to the task at hand like they were his own personal troops. “He’s a natural-born leader, though.”
“Always has been. Unfortunately, that also presents the biggest challenge—no matter how often he is punished, he still frequently leads the other children astray. Especially his brother. Sydney is his most trusted lieutenant”—she said that word in the weird British way where thelieubecameleft—“and would follow him to the ends of the earth and fling himself off the edge if his brother told him to.”
“Maybe you’re approaching the problem of Tommy all wrong, Miss Venus.”
“Suddenly you are an expert on how best to deal with children?” She bristled at what she took as a criticism as she ran her finger alongthe books beside them until she found the one she wanted and yanked it out. Then usedThe Rime of the Ancient Marinerlike a shield clutched to her distracting chest. “Have you taught many orphans in your dubious gambling career, Galahad?”
“None whatsoever.” Beyond himself, that was. He’d had to learn fast when he’d been left to fend for himself. “But I do know people and how to manage them, Miss Venus, and while it’s practically impossible to completely banish the flaws born or bred into them, you can always iron them flatter with the right incentive.”
