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“Tell me you brought charges to bear against this Feeny fellow,” he said, anger tightening his jaw.
She nodded. “I had evidence in plenty, and several of his men gave testimony against him.” Her cheeks colored. “Feeny was commanded to pay restitution and forbidden from ever again practicing masonry on English soil.” Her fists balled at her sides. “This should not have happened.” Reaching out, she grasped the board and flipped it over, hiding the derogatory word from view.
Will, who was now looking for it, caught a glimpse of twin scars circling both wrists before she lowered her hands. I was right. Again, the sight elicited a mixture of pity and curiosity.
“Someone entered here to commit this act,” she was saying. “I shall stipulate that MacCallum leave a man to watch the premises during the respite.”
“And if he does not wish to comply?”
She surveyed the piles of brick, buckets of mortar, and stacks of scaffolding littering the area. “He will agree, if for no better reason than to safeguard his materials—especially if he suspects Feeny. They were once competitors, and there was no love lost between them. But even if it was a random act of defacement, he won’t wish it to happen again.”
“And if the perpetrator returns to cause further mischief?”
Her spine straightened, and she looked at him coolly. “I am not without friends or resources. I will report this incident to my superiors.”
The sound of men’s laughter drifted in from the far entrance to the site, and Trouvère squared her shoulders. “You may attend to your class. I will address this matter with Monsieur MacCallum.” Her eyes narrowed a fraction when he didn’t move.
Though reluctant to leave, Will could see she didn’t wish him to remain. He turned to go.
At that moment, however, a burly, flame-haired man strode into the courtyard from the construction entrance. “Madame Trouvère,” he called out, a broad smile flashing across his bearded face. “Tell me, is this your school’s good governor?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw her stiffen.
“No, monsieur,” she answered as the man came up, took off his cap, and swept a bow. “This is Monsieur Woodson, our mathematics teacher,” she said, her tone flat as a cre
pe.
Despite his annoyance over being made to feel so unwelcome, Will maintained a polite expression as he nodded a greeting to the giant Scot.
An assessing look entered the man’s sharp eyes. Just as quickly, it disappeared, and his focus shifted back to his employer. “How like ye our progress?” he said, gesturing proudly at the newly laid brickwork.
“I think the workmanship is exemplary,” she answered. “However, that is not the reason for my visit.”
“Oh?” Above his beard, his cheeks grew ruddy with pleasure.
“This is why I’m here.” Reaching out, she turned the board over again, revealing the unsavory message. “One of my girls looked through the doorway and discovered it just a few minutes ago.”
Shock suffused MacCallum’s face, followed swiftly by fury. “I swear to ye none o’ mah men did tha’,” he said, his voice lowering to a growl. “We all left together, an’ I was wi’ the boys the whole time we were away.”
“I don’t think any of your people did this,” she assured him. “But I do think someone entered here while you were away.”
MacCallum’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I’ll warrant it’s tha’ Feeny fellow.”
“That’s what she thought, as well,” Will concurred, nodding at Trouvère.
Too late, he realized his mistake.
She glared at him with open displeasure, and then again addressed the Scot. “Indeed. As such, from this point forward, I require that you leave behind a man to guard the worksite during the afternoon respite. I shall be happy to have our kitchen provide that man’s meal each day as long as he takes it here.”
The brawny Scot, who’d been pulling at his beard, nodded. “Agreed. I’ll no’ have anyone meddlin’ wi’ mah work. I’ll have the boys check o’er everything before they begin again, just tae be certain all is weel.” Grimacing, he slapped a meaty fist into his palm. “An’ if I catch the bast—” Stopping, he again flushed. “If I catch the one responsible, I’ll teach him a lesson he’ll no’ soon forget.”
“Thank you, Monsieur MacCallum.”
“Mah pleasure, madame,” he answered with a respectful nod.
Mirroring the gesture, she turned to go, beckoning Will to accompany her.
Will watched, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, as the Scot’s eyes followed the headmistress. There was no hostility in the man’s gaze—just the opposite, in fact. He plainly fancied her.
