Page 48 of Inventing Vivian

“I shall,” Mrs. Larsen said. She bid them good evening and departed.

Vivian led them from the drawing room.

When they reached the front corridor, Maven opened the cupboard and pulled the lever, fetching Lord Benedict’s hat.

Lord Benedict motioned toward the Rotating Haberdashery. A hint of a smirk pulled at his lip. “A creation of yours, no doubt, Miss Kirby?”

“Yes.” She braced herself again for teasing.

Mr. Li opened the front door.

Lord Benedict put on his hat and leaned closer to Vivian. “You are quite brilliant, you know.” His voice was low, and there was not a hint of insincerity in it.

“I—” Vivian could not meet his eyes. She didn’t know what to say. Very few people had given her such a direct compliment. And coming from Lord Benedict, the words felt all the more significant. “Thank you.”

“Good night, Miss Kirby.” Mr. Li pressed a fist against his hand, bowed, and departed.

Lord Benedict turned to follow.

“I couldn’t help but notice, Your Lordship,” Vivian said, not sure why she could not simply let the man leave. But after his compliment, she felt as though she should say something meaningful in return. “You seemed distracted tonight. I hope everything is all right.” Why was she prying into the man’s life? She should have simply said good night and left it at that.

“I hope I didn’t cast a pall over the gathering with my mood,” he said. “I did not intend to be a killjoy.”

“No, of course not,” Vivian said. “I didn’t mean... I must have been mistaken.” She wanted to give herself a good shake. Once again, she’d ruined a perfectly pleasant conversation by saying the wrong thing.

He turned fully toward her, leaning his shoulder on the doorframe. “My thoughts have been occupied.” He frowned. “A young man who works at one of my factories is ill.”

“Oh.” Vivian hadn’t expected that. Nor did she understand precisely why a person’s illness would upset His Lordship. “And you’re worried for him?”

“He’s a child, and his illness is a result of his working conditions.” He rubbed his chin. “Those places... workers labor until their bodies give out, and they do it for mere pennies. Their jobs are dangerous, the hours are long, and the people are discarded once they are no longer useful. I had no idea.” He swallowed, standing up straight and folding his arms. “People are dying. And for what? To line a rich man’s pockets.”

Vivian could not believe she was hearing this from Lord Benedict. The man’s reputation was that of a pleasure-seeking young man with more money than he could spend and not a care for anyone but himself. Had a few years abroad really changed him so significantly?

“I am sorry, my lord. I wish I knew how to help.”

He looked directly at her, and his eyes tightened as if he were focusing his thoughts. “Would you know how to mechanize a pottery wheel?”

She considered. “A motor-driven wheel with adjustable speed.” She nodded. “I could build you one if you’d like.”

He shook his head. “No, that will not be necessary. I will have a shop build it. But if you were to design it, perhaps draw the schematics, I would be very pleased.”

“Of course, my lord. But I do believe a machine shop would be fully capable of creating the design.”

“I prefer your designs,” he said simply.

“Oh.” Vivian was utterly speechless.

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Miss Kirby.” Lord Benedict tipped his hat and started down the steps to the street.

Vivian stepped through the door and called after him. “My lord.”

He turned.

“What is his name? The boy?”

“Jack.”

Vivian nodded, glad to put a name to the lad in her thoughts. “Good night, my lord.”

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