Page 103 of Better Love Next Time
She surveyed the men. They looked aside or stared at their shoes.
“And if a man loses in gaming according to his means, and Mr. St. Clair has plenty, then why should we care? Should he give away his money when he already pays more than the other yards? When every man here earns a premium for evening work? Who here wants for Mr. St. Clair’s charity?”
Grumbles arose amongst the men.
Someone shouted, “I don’t want no charity!”
Lovett chuckled. “Fine words, Madame, but I’m not looking for charity. I’m looking for men to come with me.”
Kitty knew a moment of desperation. “All who remain at St. Clair Shipwrights shall receive a reward for their labors at Christmas.”
“I’ll match St. Clair’s wages,” Lovett said. “Your Christmas reward will be a job that lasts past St. Clair’s next whim. St. Clair ain’t gonna change his spots, and you all know it. What’s to say he returns? Worthing, when was St. Clair coming back?”
Sam clenched his jaw and said nothing.
“Jasper?” Lovett asked.
“About a week ago.” Jasper splayed his hands when Sam turned to glare at him. “What? He said he’d be back a week ago.”
Lovett asked, “Well, Madame, where is he?”
Oh, if only she were a man, she’d smash his twisted grin and the crooked teeth behind it, and he’d choke on them. When Julian returned she’d do the same to him.
Hurried footsteps padded on the grass. Althea approached with pistols held tightly in both hands.
“Don’t shoot,” Kitty warned her friend.
Lovett’s brows lofted at the weapons. “Appears my time’s ending here. Who is coming with?”
“What yard?” someone asked.
“Childers,” Lovett answered.
Kitty stepped forward. “I pledge a percentage of profits to any man who remains tonight. All of you will own part of this yard.”
“Aye, men,” Lovett said. “You’ll own a percentage of nothing.”
She watched Jasper retrieve his level. A man beside him hooked his hands on his coat, preparing to walk. Behind her, men conferred in hushed tones.
“I was poor once,” she said. “I lived in a grand old manse falling about my family’s ears. I know what it is like to scrounge for pennies to buy meat. What I wanted was something I could call my own. Mr. St. Clair is the same.”
“He’s the son of an earl,” a man said.
“Yes, he is, and he wishes to make his own success without patronage.”
“Patronage would pay your wages,” Lovett said to the men. “Feed your children. And St. Clair don’t want it because if he did, he’d have the king to answer to when he leaves you high and dry. You’re a bleedin’ hobby?—”
“Get out!” Althea rushed forward both pistols trained on Lovett. “Before I send you to the devil.”
Sam lunged across the circle to Lovett and shoved him down the slipway until he stumbled into the river with a splash. Heearned Sam’s right fist in his jaw and an escort down the riverbank by the back of his coat.
The men began to converse heatedly. Some defended Julian despite all Lovett had laid out while Kitty fought to do the same. Julian had promised to be discreet with other women, assured her she could retain her dignity. He would never humiliate her by fornicating in a public place. A park? She couldn’t believe it. And she refused to give any credence to Julian wagering recklessly.
More men spoke in favor of her husband. It was true he was an earl’s son, they agreed, but a body would never know by his plain manner and hard work. His ship designs were first-rate, they concluded. And hadn’t he cut weeks off the cutter’s build so that the slipway could be vacated and another ship begun?
Kitty’s faith in Julian grew.
She had prevented the men from leaving outright and pledged precious coin to keep them. She fretted on what to tell Julian of this night when he returned. He had dedicated himself to making a success of their enterprise, working long and arduous hours. He had met lowering humiliation when searching for commissions and labor and had stubbornly persevered. He was a good man. An excellent partner.
