Eighteen

Julia closed the door and turned to a narrow-eyed Mrs. Dunwitty. “You have ideas.”

Julia blinked. “No, I don’t,” she answered quickly. Denial of all culpability was second nature when it came to dealing with Mrs. Dunwitty.

“Oh, yes you do. And I know because if I were a few years younger, I would have the same ideas.”

Julia stared at her, hoping she had misunderstood.

Mrs. Dunwitty held out a hand. “Give me your clothing. I doubt it is salvageable. Why don’t you employ a maid, for goodness’ sake? And do not stare at me so. I was young once.”

“I don’t have the funds for a maid.” Julia pulled off her gloves and the remnants of her hat. She refused to imagine Mrs. Dunwitty as young.

Mrs. Dunwitty looked at the proffered articles and motioned for Julia to drop them on the floor. “I had plenty of beaux when I was your age, and in my time, we were far less prudish.”

“Oh dear,” Julia muttered. This was not at all a conversation she wished to be part of. She bent to unlace her boots.

“How did the boys’ lessons go today?” she asked.

“But when the time came,” Mrs. Dunwitty said, ignoring Julia’s attempt to change the subject, “I decided marriage was not for me. I wanted my freedom. I think you of all women understand that.”

Julia removed her half boots. They were dirty but still serviceable. Those she moved to the side of her discarded garments, then unpinned her bodice and loosed the tapes of her dress, allowing it to fall to the floor. Once her outer garments were removed, Mrs. Dunwitty stepped forward to assist her with her stays. “I can manage,” she said.

“You are tired and have been through quite the ordeal, from what I can see. I’ll hear no argument.”

Julia was tired, and she offered none as her stays were removed, and when the hot water arrived, she wore only her chemise and stockings. She retreated behind a screen to wash. The small hipbath she had bought for the orphanage and insisted the boys use at least once a week was in the older boys’ dormitory. She always made do with soap, a cloth, and water from a basin. At least this water was hot.

“It’s obvious you feel something for Mr. Wraxall,” Mrs. Dunwitty said on the other side of the screen. Julia heard her moving about, probably straightening up Julia’s already-straight chambers. “In your absence, I asked his man, Jackson, about his presence here. Apparently, Mr. Wraxall has been living here for several days. Unchaperoned.”

Julia paused in the act of sliding the cloth over her face. “I am hardly in need of a chaperone at this point,” she said. “I have been living, more or less, in a house with twelve boys for a quarter of a year.”

“Those are boys. Mr. Wraxall is a man.”

“He is a gentleman my father sent to take me home. That is all.” She rubbed the cloth over her knife wound. It was just a scratch, really, but it still burned.

Mrs. Dunwitty huffed. “Your father might have sent Wraxall, but if he knew the man had taken up residence—”

“Mr. Wraxall has not taken up residence. He will be leaving in a day or so, and now that you are here, we are adequately chaperoned, not that anyone will care. Like you, Mrs. Dunwitty, I have chosen not to marry. In time, my father will come to accept that. He will understand that this is the life I want, and I am quite content to live here and help these boys.”

“Oh, is that why you came here? To help these boys? I thought it was because you were running away.”

“I have never run away from anything in my life.”

“You ran away from the situation with Lainesborough.”

Julia dropped the cloth and stuck her head around the screen. “I did not run away. I did everything I could to keep Davy. I fought Lainesborough until the end.”

Mrs. Dunwitty’s eyes held sorrow, but Julia did not want her sorrow. Instead, she focused on the older woman’s mouth, which was set in a determined line. Julia wanted determination. “And I lost. The court and the judge and even the bloody regent—”

“Language, Juliana.”

“—did not care about the best interests of the child or what his mother would have wanted or that his father didn’t even show the most remote interest in the child until he was half a year old. The law gives the man precedence in this case, as in practically every case. Now, you tell me why I should want to tie myself to a man when men are selfish, manipulative, and cruel at best?”

“Your father was not cruel.”

“My father was benignly neglectful, and when I needed him—when Harriett needed him—he would not lift a finger to help,” Julia cried, her voice rising to a pitch that heralded tears. “Now I am in a position to help, and I will not walk away. Mrs. Dunwitty, if you have come hoping to persuade me to return home or to abandon these children, then you should know that I will do neither.”

Mrs. Dunwitty nodded and said nothing. After a moment, Julia moved back behind the screen. She took a moment to compose herself, then finished washing. When she’d dressed in a clean chemise and come around the screen, Mrs. Dunwitty waited with Julia’s robe and some linen she’d torn into bandages. “And yet,” she said quietly after she’d bandaged Julia’s arm and held out the robe, “you are in love with Wraxall.”

Julia started. “I most certainly—”

Mrs. Dunwitty raised her hand. “Do not bother to deny it. I saw him with those children just now. I fell half in love with him. And it was still in your eyes when you closed the door.”

“I can’t love him. I’ve only known him a handful of days.”

“And you think there are rules to falling in love?” Mrs. Dunwitty laughed. “Even if there were, you would not follow them. But you must hear me in this, Juliana.”

At the serious note in her voice, Julia looked up.

“You must not go to bed with him.”

Julia thought she would tip over from mortification. This was worse than when her mother had tried to explain where babies come from. “Please stop,” she begged.

“Let me say my piece.”

“Must you?”

“It is clear to me you want him in your bed, and I have no doubt he wants to be there, but if you sleep with him, it will be that much harder to let him go. The children have already become attached to him. Do not allow yourself to become any more attached or you will not be able to support them in their grief because you will be mired in your own.”

Mrs. Dunwitty was correct, of course. She knew this. It had never been her plan to become attached to Neil nor to allow the boys to become attached to him. And yet somehow he had found a way into all of their hearts. But she was not so young and innocent as to delude herself into believing he would stay simply because she wished he would. She was not so foolish as to ask him to stay because even if he desired to stay, she had no room in her life for a man. She might fancy herself in love with him, but that did not mean she trusted him or that she could count on him. He had proven himself to be trustworthy and dependable thus far, but in the end, he would fail her. Every other man in her life had.

“The boys are my sole concern,” Julia said. “He has been a good influence on them, but we must all prepare ourselves for his departure. Now that we are safe from some of the more dangerous occupants of Spitalfields, I believe Mr. Wraxall intends to see to the roof repairs and be gone.”

“Good. In my opinion, the sooner the better. The last thing you should ever do is allow him too many liberties or an entrée into your bed.”

Julia’s cheeks flamed. Dear God, she would say her prayers faithfully for a year if Mrs. Dunwitty would only speak of something else. Anything else.

“I see you are tired, so I will leave you to rest. We shall discuss the boys’ lessons in the morning. Their arithmetic is not bad, but their reading is very poor indeed. Shockingly poor.”

And with that the woman left Julia in peace.

* * *

Neil hadn’t intended to be standing in the corridor outside Juliana’s chamber when Mrs. Dunwitty emerged. He quickly tried to look as though he had some purpose for being there—ostensibly to check on the little boys—but he feared he failed miserably when Mrs. Dunwitty stopped and gave him a pointed look.

“Mr. Wraxall, do not think I do not know what you are doing here.”

“I wanted to make certain the boys—”

She dismissed his excuse with a wave. “I have spoken with my former charge and warned her against your charms.”

Neil raised a brow. “My charms?”

“Yes. More to the point, I told her specifically not to allow you into her bed. Knowing that girl, the more I tell her not to do something, the more likely she is to do it. And so I will warn you as well to stay away from Lady Juliana. Go back to your rooms and go to sleep.”

“Yes, Mrs. Dunwitty.”

“Good night, then.” And she started for her own rooms at a clipped pace.

Neil was accustomed to following orders, and he almost turned to follow the lady, as they both had chambers in the servants’ quarters. But then he paused to wonder why Juliana’s former governess would tell her charge not to allow him into her bed if that would only make her more likely to do so. And if she made such a blunder, why would she make her mistake known to him?

Did the lady want him to seduce Juliana? Rather, further seduce Juliana? Was she playing matchmaker? If so, this was a rather unorthodox method, since, for all she knew, he might get Juliana with child and then leave her to suffer the consequences.

But if she thought him capable of such behavior, she would have undoubtedly thrown him out on his ear already. He had no doubt she was capable of that and much more.

Which still left him standing in the corridor wondering what he was about. He didn’t need to check on the little boys. Robbie had seen to that. Their room was dark and quiet, as was the older boys’ dormitory. The boys, even Billy, slept in clean beds under warm blankets. Their bellies were full—or reasonably so, considering young boys were never really full—and they were safe from the likes of Slag and his men. Neil hadn’t considered how truly remarkable this orphanage was. He had not spent much time in any orphanage, but even he knew that they were little more than dens of disease and misery. If what he had seen of orphans on the streets of London was any indication, the children were unwashed, practically starving, and dressed in rags.

Of course, there were a few orphans who were left at institutions accompanied by funds to be used for the rearing of the child. But as there was virtually no oversight, those who ran the orphanages were free to use the funds for whatever they liked, which was, more often than not, lining their own pockets.

But here was a place that had likely been as miserable and wretched as any other orphanage in London, and Lady Juliana had come in and made it a haven. She had few funds from the board of directors, and so all the improvements she had done she must have paid for herself. The children were clean, fed, and looked after. Now that Slag was dead, Billy and Walter were safe from being coerced into joining his gang. And Juliana was in part responsible for Slag’s demise too.

Neil had walked into the orphanage and seen all the potential dangers for the daughter of an earl. Thus, he had failed to see all the ways she had provided security for these children who would have been out on the streets of London had she not stepped in. No wonder she had resisted his help initially. She did not need one more outsider trying to save her when the real danger was what would happen to the children if she returned to Mayfair.

And he still had not answered his own question as to what he was doing pacing outside her bedchamber. For all intents and purposes, his work here was done. St. Maur could hire men to repair the roof. It wasn’t as though Neil knew anything about roof repair. He would have hired men himself. Of course, he’d planned to supervise the work and keep an eye on Juliana at the same time, but now that Slag was no longer a threat, she didn’t really need him. He could try and persuade her to go home to her father, but that was a losing battle. Neil didn’t make a habit of fighting battles he could not win.

She probably wouldn’t care if he told her she still wasn’t safe. New threats could come at any time, but he couldn’t live here permanently, just in case she needed protection again.

Could he?

Of course not. He had his own life. He was busy mourning his fallen friends, drinking himself into a stupor, and fighting off nightmares. Not to mention, once every two or three months, his father had some small task for him to complete. If Neil stayed at the orphanage, he would give up all those hours sitting alone in his rooms or whiling away the hours at the Draven Club, nursing the what-ifs and flagellating himself for putting Draven’s men into deadly situations, which was of course the very idea of a suicide troop.

Neil stopped pacing and stood in front of Juliana’s door. If he went inside, if he stayed, he would have to marry her. He couldn’t marry her. What kind of husband would he be? He was a bastard and she the daughter of an earl.

The door to Juliana’s room opened, and she jumped back when she spotted him. “Wraxall!”

“I didn’t mean to startle you, my lady,” he said.

“Then what did you mean by standing outside my door?”

“I…” He had no answer, but he knew a few interrogation techniques. “Why did you open it?”

“I… Because. I wanted to check on the boys.”

It was a lie if he’d ever heard one, but he’d be damned if he would call her on it. His gaze had dipped from her face to the vee of her robe, which was open slightly to reveal the lacy, white night rail. With her coppery hair down about her shoulders and her cheeks pink from being freshly scrubbed, she looked very much like a dollop of cream with a cherry on top.

And Neil would have liked to lick his way down the cream-covered expanse of her body.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice gravelly. “Why does the matron of an orphanage for boys wear a night rail with such a revealing bodice?” He reached out and trailed one finger along the opening of the robe, parting it farther to reveal more of the swell of her breasts. He had been prepared to be slapped away, but she all but leaned into his touch. She had been lying when she’d claimed she’d opened the door to check on the boys. He would have wagered a sovereign that she had planned to go to him.

And though he had no skill at gaming, Neil was certain he would have won this wager.

“It’s not mine,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

“You stole it? More and more intriguing.”

“I didn’t… No. I…” She looked up and down the corridor. “Should we have this conversation elsewhere? I’m afraid we might wake the boys.”

Neil thought a horse race was unlikely to wake the boys after a day of lessons with Mrs. Dunwitty, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he took a step forward and then another.

Juliana took a step back, and Neil followed her into her chamber, closing the door behind him and locking it. Her brown eyes darted to the closed door. “This is most inappropriate.”

“As is that garment.” He wanted to move closer, to push the robe off her shoulders and see what tantalized beneath it more clearly, but he stood rooted in place.

“It was meant for a bride.”

Neil lifted a brow. “Were you betrothed?”

“My sister was. She married Viscount Lainesborough. This”—she gestured to the nightgown and robe—“was part of her trousseau, but the valise into which it was packed was left behind. When my lady’s maid packed for what was to be a brief stay at Sunnybrooke, she must have thought I’d already packed this valise and sent it with the rest of my things.”

Neil did step forward. “It suits you.”

“It seems silly to wear it here, surrounded by squalor and shabbiness, but I suppose I like to forget where I am at times and pretend I am still the spoiled, naive earl’s daughter.”

“I can’t picture you as spoiled, though you’ve held on to a great deal of that naivety.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Always quick with compliments, I see. You should have known me before.”

“You wouldn’t have spoken to me before.”

“You wouldn’t have spoken to me. I was unbearably stupid and frivolous.”

He stood before her and reached one hand to caress the sleeve of her robe. “What changed you?”

“Davy,” she said.

Neil stiffened. He hadn’t been prepared for the possibility of another man, but now that he considered it, why hadn’t he supposed that she would be in love with and loved by someone? She was smart, brave, and beautiful. What man wouldn’t want her?

But if she loved another, then why had she allowed him to touch her so intimately earlier that day? Why did she allow his hand on her arm now? Neil dropped his hand. “And who is Davy?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I should talk about this.”

“It’s too late for that.”

She shook her head, making her hair flutter about her shoulders. “You don’t want to hear my sad tale.”

“Why not? You heard mine.” He met her gaze directly. “Why not show me what you’re hiding?”

“I’m not hiding.”

“But you are.” He ran his hand along the sleeve of her robe again but refrained from divesting her of it. Now, there was Davy between them.

“Davy—David—is my nephew, and certainly no secret.”

“Your sister’s son?”

She looked down. “Yes, and her only child. She died just hours after he was born.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” And he was. As a man who had never known his own mother, he could empathize with this child who would also grow up motherless. However, this child had been born within the realm of matrimony, which meant he would be accepted and wanted. He would have the love of his father and obviously that of his aunt. Unless something had happened to the child.

“Where is Davy now?” he asked.

“With his father.”

Neil nodded. “As to be expected, I suppose.”

Her eyes flashed fire, and she rounded on him. “Why, pray tell, is that to be expected? Why should a child be reared by his father as a default? Not every father is a suitable guardian.”

He had stepped, unwittingly, into a battle zone. He could either make a hasty retreat or fight his way through. He wasn’t certain what he was fighting for, but Neil had fought many battles where victory was undefined. Sometimes that was the nature of conflict.

“You have a point,” he conceded. “Am I to understand Davy’s father was less than desirable?”

“He is much worse than ‘less than desirable.’ He didn’t care a fig for the child until he realized that I wanted him. You see, I opposed his marriage to Harriett and so he has always hated me. He took Davy away simply to spite me and now”—tears glittered in her eyes—“I’ve lost him forever.”

And with those words, Neil finally understood.