Seven

Neil needed a drink. He hadn’t had so much as a sip of wine since he’d arrived at the orphanage. Without drink to smooth the edges, he felt his emotions too keenly. Since coming back from the war, Neil had learned that feeling anything was dangerous. He didn’t want to relive the anguish he’d felt when his brother had died or when Draven’s men had been killed. He’d felt it all too powerfully, and he’d been powerless to do anything about it.

Now, the rawness of the pain and loss he’d suffered seeped in again. And with those emotions came others. Neil couldn’t have said why, but when he’d heard Lady Juliana’s voice on the other side of the kitchen door, in reply to Charlie, his chest had tightened and his heartbeat quickened. He’d been eager to see her, anticipated the look on her face when she saw the meal he’d helped the boys prepare.

And then he’d seen her—her body wrapped in the long, flowing lines of the dress and her hair perched delicately on her head, making the graceful nape of her neck appear porcelain against the blue of the dress. He’d been momentarily stunned by how much he wanted her approval of the breakfast. And then when she’d given it, he wished all the boys would disappear so he could take her in his arms and…

What would he have done? Kiss her? To what end? She was an unmarried lady, not a widow or an actress. He could be attracted to her, but he couldn’t act on it. And that was for the best, because while he was here, he had to maintain strict control. He had his orders. Today he would make sure the building was secure for the boys’ safety. She’d taken steps to hire a new cook and a new teacher. Once those servants were here to take care of the orphanage, she’d have to admit she was not needed here.

When all the boys had finished ladling porridge into their bowls and each taken two rolls from the basket, he filled his own bowl and took a seat at the head of the older boys’ table. He couldn’t think for all the noise the lads made, and he sent a look down the table that had the effect of stopping the conversations in midstream. The little boys quieted, and Neil looked at Lady Juliana, whose eyes were wide at the sudden silence.

“My lady,” he said, “have you seen Mr. Goring this morning?”

She sipped her tea and replied, “I have, Mr. Wraxall. He stepped out for a moment to fetch his own breakfast.”

“But why?” Robbie interrupted. “We made enough for him.”

Neil gave the lad a long look, and Robbie bowed his head. “Sorry, Major. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s fine, Robbie,” Lady Juliana said.

Neil frowned again. The lad would never learn discipline if she didn’t correct him.

“I believe Mr. Goring wasn’t certain whether enough had been prepared for him. He did not want to assume.”

Neil could tell she was lying because she didn’t want to hurt the boys’ feelings. Goring probably hadn’t believed the boys could cook a decent meal. Hell, Neil wasn’t sure he’d believed it either. But Neil suspected wherever Goring went he had a reason for going other than fear over lumpy porridge. Jasper would be watching, and Neil would know soon enough.

“Since we don’t know when Mr. Goring will return, I’ll need you boys to help me with some of the tasks I had planned,” Neil said.

Most of the younger boys cheered while the older boys looked wary.

“What sorts of tasks, Mr. Wraxall?” Lady Juliana asked.

Neil took a bite of his roll. Considering the limited ingredients he and the boys had had to work with, it was not bad. “Securing the locks, mending broken stairs, and the like.”

“Oh, but those are Mr. Goring’s responsibilities. I am certain he will return within the hour.”

Neil was far less certain. He didn’t think the man would be back until midday, if at all. But that wasn’t the point. “My lady, may I speak with you privately?”

Her brows rose. “Of course. We can speak in the parlor after breakfast.”

Neil rose. “We’ll speak now.”

Her brows lowered again, and she gave him a poisonous look. Slowly, she rose and placed her napkin in her chair. “We will be back in a few minutes, children.”

The boys nodded, keeping their heads down. All except Walter, who grinned as though he expected his headmistress to be scolded and enjoyed the idea.

Lady Juliana swept out of the room, and Neil followed her. She went directly to the parlor and held the door open until he crossed the threshold. Then she closed the door quietly and marched to stand before him. She was petite and she had to look up at him, but that didn’t seem to cow her.

“I don’t know what you are used to in your everyday life, Mr. Wraxall, but let me make one thing clear—you do not give me orders.”

Neil felt the prick of heat that indicated she’d fired his temper. He pushed it down. “Someone needs to.”

Her dark eyes grew round with an emotion somewhere between surprise and fury. “I assure you, sir, that someone is not you. I have been running this orphanage for several months now, and in that time—”

“In that time, you’re lucky it hasn’t fallen apart or worse.” He inclined his head. “I suppose I should not interrupt you, either, but I don’t have time for social niceties.”

“You, sir, are no gentleman,” she said, then immediately covered her mouth. “I do apologize. I should not have said that.”

It was one of the worst insults a lady might mete out, but Neil would not allow it to faze him. “No, you are correct, my lady. I am no gentleman. I’m a bastard, as you must know, and I promise you that I no more want to surround myself with a dozen boys who remind me of my own bastardy every time I look at them than you want to look at me yourself.”

“That’s not what I—”

“But I have my orders, and I will follow them. As you have no teacher for the boys yet, I will keep them employed with assisting me by making repairs around the orphanage.” He began to pace. “The smaller ones can fetch and carry, while the older ones can do most of the work. By the end of the day, I expect the stairs will be sound, the windows and doors secure, and all the chimneys clean so they are not a fire hazard.”

“I’ll allow that.” Her voice made him stop in his tracks. “On one condition.”

“You will allow it?”

“Yes. I am headmistress of this building, and I am responsible for the welfare of these children. That is not a question legally. The board of directors has put me in a position of authority.”

Neil folded his arms over his chest. “Is my father on the board?”

She advanced on him. “Is that a threat, Mr. Wraxall?”

“Clearly. And I do not make frivolous threats. I would prefer to complete my orders by sending you home to your father. Since you won’t comply with that directive, then my only choice is to do what is necessary to ensure your safety and well-being on these premises. If you attempt to hamper my efforts, I will take whatever measures necessary to defeat you.”

“Am I an opponent to be defeated?”

She was angry. He could see the stains of pink on her cheekbones, but it was better they have this conversation now and put everything out in the open. He could do what was necessary more quickly then, and she’d know her place. “You tell me,” he answered.

“I will tell you, Mr. Wraxall.” She poked him in the chest. “You are a bastard, but not by virtue of your birth. No. In that way, you have no right to compare yourself to these children, who bear no shame for the sins of their parents. You are a bastard because you think you have the right to come in here and throw your power around just because you see me as a defenseless woman in charge of defenseless children.” She poked him again. “I have news for you, Wraxall. I have known men like you, and I am far from defenseless. You have today and today only to complete your sacred orders, and then I want you out. If you don’t leave, I will have you physically thrown out, and I’ll make certain both my father and yours know of your unpardonable behavior.”

Neil felt heat creep along the back of his neck. What she threatened would indeed cause him no end of explaining and probably anger his father and St. Maur. She wasn’t worth it, and neither was the orphanage.

“That won’t be necessary, my lady. I will finish today and be gone tonight.”

She nodded once. “Good.”

“Is that all?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Good.” He opened the parlor door and stormed out.

* * *

Julia’s legs felt wobbly as she reached tentatively for a chair. Finding one of the armchairs, she lowered herself into it slowly and took a shaky breath. How dare he threaten her! How dare he speak of her boys as bastards! He did not want to look at them? Fine. She didn’t want to ever see his face again.

She didn’t go back to the dining room. She was too angry, and she knew her feelings would show on her face. If one of the boys were to ask what the matter was, she’d probably burst into tears. Not because she was weak. No. Because she was so angry that all she could think to do was wail with fury. She busied herself in the parlor with the account books, answering correspondence, and studying lists of inventory the cook had made up before she had left.

By the time she glanced at the clock again, it was almost eleven. She’d been aware of the sound of the boys’ voices and the tapping of hammers and louder banging on occasion, but now she realized she hadn’t been bothered once all morning. For all that Mr. Wraxall was an arse, he seemed to have the children well in hand. They would probably be hungry for lunch, and she would make sure all was well before making sandwiches for the midday meal.

She opened the parlor door and made her way into the entryway. She stopped at the opening and stared at the activity. Boys sat on the stairs, hammers in hand, nailing boards down. The younger boys stood ready with nails, while the older boys pounded or ripped out rotten boards and called for younger boys to bring new pieces of wood. At the door stood Mr. Wraxall with Walter and Robbie. He was showing the two how to install a new dead bolt. Outside the open door, two of her boys painted the steps leading up to the orphanage door. And since the door was open, she could see the dark clouds gathering behind them. It would rain this afternoon and the rain would likely be heavy. It was a good thing she did not need pots and pans to make sandwiches.

“It looks as though you have been working very hard, boys.” She did not look at Mr. Wraxall, but she could feel his gaze on her, and it made her want to shuffle her feet. She forced herself to stand still.

“We have! We have!” James told her, his high voice even higher with excitement. “Come and try the steps. They don’t creak anymore.”

“I shall try them when you have finished. In the meantime, I thought I would make sandwiches. You must have worked up an appetite.”

There was a chorus of ayes and hurrahs.

“Good. Then I will call you when the meal is ready.”

Still without looking at Mr. Wraxall, she made her way to the kitchen, laid out bread and sandwich items, and put together two dozen sandwiches. It took her three trips to carry all the sandwiches and the pitchers of lemon water to the dining room, but when she’d finished and set the tables, she called the boys. The sound of their progress was what she imagined a stampede of wild animals in Africa must sound like, and she quickly moved out of the way lest she be trampled. It wasn’t until after the boys were all seated with food and drink and had said a prayer that she noticed Mr. Wraxall had not come to the dining room.

“My lady,” Michael was telling her, “did you know we used one hundred and twelve nails so far today?”

“Goodness. That many?” She spied Charlie stuffing part of a sandwich crust in his pocket. “Charlie, what are you doing?”

“I thought I’d feed this to Matthew, Mark, and Luke.”

Of course. The cook usually gave the boys scraps from the kitchen for the rats. “You go ahead and eat that,” she told Charlie, “and I’ll bring them an apple, cheese, and a piece of bread after lunch.”

“All that?” Charlie smiled. “They won’t be able to finish it.”

“Then they will have the leavings for dinner.” She scooted Charlie’s plate closer to the edge of the table so fewer crumbs would fall on the floor. Charlie’s and the other young boys’ eyelids drooped. She’d have to encourage them to nap after lunch. “Michael, where is Mr. Wraxall?” she asked.

“With that man,” Michael said.

Julia glanced at the older boys’ table. At her look, several of them nodded. “What man?” she asked.

“He wore a mask,” Michael said. “Like a highwayman.”

Sean nodded. “It’s true. And he seemed to come out of nowhere. Ralph and I were painting outside, and he wasn’t there. Then we looked up, and he was right before us.”

“He was like a spirit,” Ralph said. “He didn’t even walk up the steps. We would have seen him.”

Julia stood. “Robbie, make sure all the boys finish their lunches and then take their plates back to the kitchen. I need to speak with Mr. Wraxall.”

Robbie was on his feet. “Yes, my lady.”

She started for the doorway, and when she reached it, she noticed Robbie was still standing and Billy had joined him. “Why are you still standing?” she asked.

“The major says a gentleman stands when a lady stands.”

“Too bad you’re no gentleman,” Walter muttered loudly enough for her to hear.

“Well, I think it shows very good manners.”

Michael and Sean jumped up too.

“Thank you, gentlemen.”

She left the dining room and closed the door behind her. As much as she wanted to dislike Major Wraxall, he was making it more and more difficult. But she’d see what this meeting with the masked man was all about.

Wraxall was not in the entryway, which smelled of freshly cut wood and wet paint. She was about to check in the parlor when she heard a murmur of voices outside the door. The new bolt had been installed, but it was not in use. Quietly, she pulled the door open.

And came face-to-face with a man in a black silk mask.

His hair was covered by a length of black silk tied at the back of his neck, and he wore a black mask that covered most of one side of his face and the upper portion of the other. Behind the mask, eyes the blue of the sea before a storm looked at her. “Who are you?” she blurted out, putting a hand to her pounding heart.

“This is a friend of mine.”

She turned to see Wraxall moving closer to her. She hadn’t even noticed him when she’d stepped outside. The wind blew fiercely, making the branches of the birch tree bow and wave. “I see. What is he doing here?”

“He’s good at finding people. I asked him to look for Mr. Goring.”

“Mr…” Belatedly, she realized she hadn’t seen him all morning and hadn’t even thought to look for him. With Wraxall nearby, she hadn’t needed the servant, though he certainly could have made himself useful lighting fires in the grates or carrying the trays into the dining room for her. How long had she been relying on herself and not noticing the manservant’s absence? “Mr. Goring hasn’t returned then.”

Wraxall shook his head. “I think he’s long since had his breakfast.”

“Oh dear. I hope nothing has happened to him.”

“He’s perfectly well. I have just come from him,” said the man in the mask, his voice a deep rumble. “He is sitting at the Ox and the Bull.”

“What is that?”

“An alehouse nearby,” Wraxall told her. “One Slag and his gang frequent.”

A shiver of unease ran up her spine. Goring had been the one to tell her to keep her distance from Mr. Slag. He’d been the one to tell her Slag’s gang ran all Spitalfields. Lately, Slag had been paying more attention to her, and Goring hadn’t been able to keep the crime lord out. But she couldn’t think of any reason Goring should wish to spend any time in Slag’s establishment.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Is Mr. Slag keeping Mr. Goring there against his will?”

“No,” the masked man told her. “Your servant seems quite content to partake of Mr. Slag’s hospitality.”

“What of his duties here?”

“Lord Jasper and I believe your servant may have found a new master,” Wraxall told her.

Julia stared at the masked man. He was a lord?

“We think Slag is paying Goring for access to you,” Wraxall continued.

A thousand possibilities flew through her mind in that moment, swirling about like the leaves dancing in the wind along the street. She knew exactly why Slag wanted access to her. He wanted her father’s money or her as his mistress. “But Mr. Goring warned me away from Mr. Slag. Why would he do that if he was working for the man?”

“Perhaps he wasn’t working for him initially,” Wraxall said, “but every man has his price. Whatever the case, Goring is working for Slag now.”

“Then I shall dismiss him immediately.”

Wraxall held up a hand. “Not so quickly. Take away Slag’s perceived pathway to you, and he’ll be forced to find another or do something more dramatic. Now that we know of Mr. Goring’s duplicity, we can watch him and discover Slag’s plans.”

“And then what?” she asked.

“And then we persuade Mr. Slag you are not worth the trouble.”

“That sounds like a job for the Protector,” the masked man said. “If you have no more need of me at the moment, I’ll take my leave. I think I’ve scared enough women and children for one day.”

“You didn’t frighten us,” Julia lied. “I was not expecting you.”

The masked man’s eyes met hers with a penetrating stare. “Would you like me to scare you?” He touched his mask. “The few women who’ve looked on me without my mask have either screamed or fainted. Which would you be?”

Julia caught her breath, and Wraxall moved in front of her. “You’re dismissed.” Wraxall put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “And thank you.”

Lord Jasper shrugged. “You would have done the same for me.” And then just as Ralph had described, the masked man seemed to all but disappear into the growing darkness and the bustle of people looking for shelter before the storm.

“Is he one of your men?” she asked Wraxall, forgetting for the moment that she didn’t wish to speak to him. “One of the soldiers you served with?”

“He is.”

“Is his face that awful? Is that why he wears a mask?”

“He was burned in a fire during an ambush. He’s lucky to be alive, but he’s self-conscious about the scar.”

Julia noticed he didn’t answer her question about the gruesomeness of the burn. “He should be proud of it. He’s a hero.”

Wraxall gave her a wry smile. “I don’t think any of us feel much like heroes, my lady. Come inside before we’re blown away.”

But before they could close the door, another figure fought the wind to start toward the orphanage. Wraxall stepped in front of her, probably to protect her, but there was no need. She recognized the livery the man wore immediately as that of the Earl St. Maur. Julia put a hand on Wraxall’s arm, then just as quickly removed it. She’d felt the hard solidity of his muscle beneath her hand.

“It’s one of my father’s footmen,” she told him, avoiding looking into Wraxall’s face.

“My lady!” the footman called over the wind. “I have a message from your father.”

She held out a hand to take the folded paper. “Won’t you come in and have some tea in the kitchen?”

The footman shook his head. “I had better get back.”

“Very well.” When he turned to leave directly, she called, “You do not need a reply?”

“No, my lady. The earl said none was required.”

Julia stepped inside, and Wraxall closed the door and pushed the bolt home. Annoyingly, he stood and waited for her to open the letter. She gave him a glare, but it didn’t seem to deter him. She might have scolded him if she hadn’t been distracted by the contents inside the envelope. The only item inside was an invitation to Viscount Sterling’s ball that evening. Scrawled across the invitation, in her father’s spiky hand, were the words Your attendance is required.

“Oh no,” she muttered.

“Oh yes,” Wraxall answered, reading over her shoulder. “You will attend if I have to escort you myself.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And if I attend this ball, who will take care of the children?”

Wraxall opened his mouth, paused, then smiled. “I have just the person in mind.”

“Who?”

“Leave that to me. You will attend that ball.”

“And what about the situation with Mr. Goring?”

“He can float away in the deluge for all I care. You and I will go.”

“Go where?” Michael asked. Julia turned to see about half of the boys crowding into the entryway.

Julia folded her hands and smoothed her expression. “Go upstairs to put you boys down for a nap.”

“Not me!” Michael said, shaking his head violently.

“Not I,” Julia corrected.

“I won’t make you take one, if you don’t make me, my lady.”

Julia laughed. “You don’t need a nap, Michael, but Charlie, Chester, Jimmy, and James do.”

“I’m not tired, my lady!” James said.

“Me either,” Charlie said, his eyelids drooping.

“Nevertheless, a little rest is just the thing.” She bundled the four boys together and pushed them toward the stairs.

“Lady Juliana,” Wraxall said from behind her. “You are taking a third of my workforce.”

“Well, perhaps now is a good time for all of you to rest. These are boys, sir, not soldiers. They should have some time for recreation.”

She glanced down from the steps and saw him frowning at her. Before he could argue, the first clap of thunder sounded and a steady rain drummed on the roof. It was the sort of day she’d always loved when she’d lived in Mayfair. It was less comforting here. “Robbie, you and Billy get the buckets. Walter, will you and Michael get the pots and pans? Ralph, go and cover Matthew, Mark, and Luke’s enclosure. You know the rain makes them nervous. Best they feel snug and secure so we don’t have to spend the rest of the afternoon searching for them.”

There was a chorus of “Yes, my lady,” and then she shuttled the little boys upstairs again. Wraxall was right behind her.

“What the devil is this?” he asked.

“Sir, watch your language around the children.”

The little boys giggled as she herded them into their room and pulled the curtains closed. The room was already dark, but this made it feel cozier. “Off with your shoes, boys. Then climb under the covers.”

Wraxall stood in the doorway. “What the deuce is this?”

“Nap time,” she answered.

“No, I meant with the buckets and pots and pans.”

“That’s to catch the water,” Jimmy told him, hopping into bed. “Don’t forget our bucket, my lady.”

“I won’t.” She tugged it from the corner and placed it between Chester and James’s beds, where water had already begun to leak from the roof.

“Do you mean to tell me the roof leaks?” Wraxall asked.

“I hadn’t intended to tell you at all, but I suppose it’s quite apparent now. We have plenty of buckets to deal with the leaks.”

“If we use the pots and pans too,” James said. “But that doesn’t work so well when it’s dinnertime.”

“Shh.” Julia placed a kiss on James’s forehead then went to Jimmy and Charlie. Chester was taking his time. “Chester, nap time.”

“I’m not tired.” He yawned. “That wasn’t a yawn. I was stretching my mouth.”

“You don’t have to sleep,” Julia told him, pulling back the blanket on his bed. “Just rest. I will come and get you up in an hour.”

“Major doesn’t need to rest.”

Julia glanced at Wraxall. Now was the time for him to either help her cause or hurt it. If he hurt it, she would be plagued by tired, cranky boys all evening.

“Actually,” Wraxall said, “I think Lady Juliana makes a good suggestion. We should all rest, and when you wake, we’ll be refreshed and ready to begin anew.”

“So you won’t work on the steps without us?” Chester asked.

Clearly Wraxall hadn’t anticipated having to make that sort of promise. Julia raised her brows. He sighed. “No. We will wait until nap time is through. You’ll miss nothing.”

“Promise?” Charlie asked sleepily.

“I do.”

“My parents promised to come back for me,” Jimmy said. “But they still haven’t.”

Julia sighed. Her heart broke for Jimmy, who couldn’t possibly understand that his parents either could not come for him or did not have the money to support him if they did. These poor children had learned not to trust adults. She’d been steadily earning their trust, but they hadn’t chosen to test her now. They’d chosen Mr. Wraxall.

She looked at the major, not certain whether to interrupt or let him answer. For a long moment he stood uncertainly in the doorway, then he strode into the room and went to Jimmy’s bed, sitting on the side. “When I make a promise, I keep it. No work will be done on the house while you rest. I’m certain your parents will keep their promise too. They are in a difficult situation. Give them time, and they will come for you.”

He brushed the boy’s dark hair back from his forehead. “Sleep now.” He looked at the other three boys. “That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison, though Charlie’s reply was garbled as his thumb was already in his mouth.

Julia stepped outside and closed the door when Wraxall followed her. “Thank you,” she said. “I know you meant what you said, and it’s so important to the children that they have adults in their life they can count on.”

He had moved away from the room and closer to her bedchamber. Though the little ones could likely not hear, she had lowered her voice as she followed him.

“I agree. That’s why I’m surprised you haven’t done more to show them they can count on you.”

Julia glared at him. “What precisely do you mean by that, sir?”

“I mean that you have them living in a place where they aren’t safe. What will you tell them when someone breaks in and hurts one of them or you?”

“I don’t have to worry about that anymore. You have fixed the locks.”

His light eyes bored into her. “Then what will you tell them when the roof collapses on their heads?”

“I’ve asked the board of directors for more funds and instructed Mr. Goring to begin work on it.”

“The same Mr. Goring who sits at Slag’s alehouse all day?”

Oh yes. She’d forgotten she would have to let the servant go. “I’ll hire another manservant then.”

“And how will you be certain he isn’t also in Slag’s pocket? That man wants you. You won’t be safe until he’s dealt with.”

“Yes, well, I’m certain half the residents of Spitalfields wish he would be, as you say, ‘dealt with,’ but so far we are not so lucky.” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “In any case, it is not your concern. We had an agreement. You would leave at the end of the day. I expect you to keep your word to me.”

He gave her a long look. “You know I can’t do that. There’s the ball tonight.”

She blew out a breath. “I am no child who needs your supervision, Mr. Wraxall. Nor do I need my father’s lackey to serve as a nurse.”

“I am not your father’s lackey. I don’t stay for money.”

“Well, you aren’t staying out of the goodness of your heart.” She paused, almost hoping he would contradict her. But he didn’t.

“No. As I told you before, I don’t have a weak spot for orphans, but I do have my—”

“Orders,” she said before he could. “Is that all you care about? Orders?”

“No,” he said quietly. “I have found at least one more item to care about lately.”

And to her complete shock, he reached up and ran a finger down her cheek. His touch was light and fleeting, but it seemed to burn a path into her delicate skin. She stood rooted in place, all but paralyzed by his touch, but instead of touching her again, he gave her a nod and moved away and then down the steps.

Slowly, Julia raised a hand to her cheek. Why had he touched her so intimately? Did he mean to imply he cared about her? They hardly knew each other. The thought had made her cheeks heat and her heart thud heavily in her chest. For a moment, she wondered what his lips might feel like on her cheek.

She closed her eyes, imagining the light touch of his lips and the rasp of his dark stubble, and then a cold drop landed on her arm. Julia glanced up and saw a new leak had begun outside her door. With a sigh, she entered her room and collected a vase to catch the water. The activity helped clear her brain, and she was thankful for the interruption of her daydream.

He’d almost fooled her. Julia had always wondered how Harriett could have been taken in by such a lying, cheating rogue as the man she’d married, but now she had firsthand experience.

Men could be charming to have their way. Wraxall had all but made her forget he was only here to report back to her father what a disaster she’d made of running the orphanage. Soon he’d try to persuade her to leave.

He was not her ally. He was not here to help her or the boys. Julia simply had to bide her time until he proved it.