by Shana Galen
That was only one of the things the new Julia knew that the old Julia couldn’t have fathomed.
She started down the steps, telling herself speaking with Mr. Wraxall was no hardship. He was quite pleasant to look upon and he had good manners, when he wasn’t ordering everyone about. He was thoughtful as well. He’d provided two meals for the boys today. In fact, dinner had been absolutely delicious. She couldn’t remember when she’d had such a tasty meal. But when she’d asked if the cook was looking for hire, he merely smiled and shook his head.
After dinner, he’d managed to organize the boys into washing, drying, and stacking teams. The dishes were clean and put away in far less time than ever before. He had a way of getting people to do what he wanted. He had a way of convincing her to do what he wanted. Look at what he’d done today. She’d planned to post the letters she’d written herself as soon as Goring returned, but Wraxall had held out his hand and she’d given them over without so much as a peep of protest.
How did she know he’d really posted the letters? It was no secret her father wanted her to give up the orphanage and come home. If she didn’t have a cook or a teacher for the children, then her father might go to the board and persuade them to remove funding if she did not accede to his wishes. Wraxall was only her father’s latest method to convince her she should return to Mayfair.
Well, Wraxall would have to return to her father in defeat. These boys needed her, and she would not abandon them. She would be the person to show them that there were good people, reliable people, in the world. She would be the person they could trust and count on.
She reached the parlor, and as the door was cracked, she spotted Wraxall inside. He sat at her desk…looking through her ledger book. Of all the nerve!
She shoved the door open. “What do you think you are doing, sir?”
He barely raised his eyes. “Looking through your accounts. Exactly how much of your own money have you contributed to the upkeep of St. Dismas?”
“It’s Sunnybrooke Home for Boys. I renamed it.”
He gave her a perplexed look. “Sunnybrooke?”
“I’ve asked Goring to repaint the sign.”
“Ah, that will cost more blunt. How much have you contributed again?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He glanced at the ledger. “Looks to be fifty pounds or more.”
“And?” She crossed to the desk and snatched the ledger away, slamming it shut. “It’s my coin.”
He studied her for a moment with those eyes that were far too pretty to belong to a man. “Pin money?” he asked. It was a logical assumption, as a woman of her station wouldn’t have any other means of income. “If you can spare fifty pounds, how much pin money does your father give you each month?”
“Not so much, but I preferred to save mine rather than spend it. I never needed for anything anyway.”
Neither had Harriett, but she had spent hers every month regardless.
He stood, and she realized the room suddenly felt smaller. She moved to the corner of the desk, trying to make room for him. Trying to put distance between them. Then she looked down at her hands where they clutched the ledger. If she didn’t look away, she’d end up staring at him like an infatuated schoolgirl.
“If you won’t return home, I will have to sleep here tonight,” he said.
“What?” Her gaze met his, and she forgot to be infatuated. “No, sir, you will most certainly not!”
“Yes, I will. My orders were to see you were safe and well.”
“And I am both.”
“You are not safe. I’ve done more inspecting while you were putting the boys to bed, and few of the windows and neither of the doors in this building are secure. Anyone could enter during the night and steal, commit murder, or attack you.”
Her cheeks heated because she knew by attack he meant rape. “I understand your concerns, Mr. Wraxall. I have my own concerns, which is why I employ Mr. Goring. As you saw at dinner, he has returned. I will lock my bedchamber door, as I do every night, and rely on Mr. Goring to keep us safe, as he has every night.”
“At least your bedchamber door has a solid lock.”
“You checked my bedchamber?” Her skin prickled with heat.
“I like to be thorough. And if your cheeks are pink because you left that scrap of lace on the floor, I assure you I was thinking only of my orders.” But his smile said otherwise.
He had seen her undergarments! Her cheeks were not simply pink but burning hot. “You, sir, are impertinent.”
He laughed. He actually laughed!
“I’ve been called far worse. I would rather be impertinent and see you safe than reverent and see you come to harm.”
She crossed her arms. “Lovely sentiments, but you cannot stay under my roof. We have no chaperone. I know it may seem to you that I am throwing my reputation to the wind, but I’d rather not have my neighbors mistake me for a woman of loose morals.” Mr. Slag’s face floated into her mind just then. No, she definitely did not want him to form any more ideas about her.
“I assure you I would prefer to sleep in my own bed tonight,” Wraxall said.
“Good. Then go home and sleep well. I shall see you out, sir.”
He shook his head. “I shall see you home. The only way I leave you here alone tonight is if you go to your father’s house.”
Her shoulders and her hopes fell. “Mr. Wraxall, I love my father. He and I have no quarrel. He supports my work at Sunnybrooke.” That was partly true. He did support her philanthropic endeavors, but he did not support her moving into the orphanage. “Nevertheless, the boys here need me. I cannot leave them.”
“Mr. Goring is here.”
She scoffed. “Mr. Goring is not to be relied upon. The last time I left him in charge, Mrs. Nesbit gave her notice. Not to mention Mr. Goring knows nothing about the needs of small children. What if Charlie wakes with a nightmare or James needs a drink of water?”
“You are not their mother.”
“I am the closest they have right now, and that is another reason you cannot stay. The more you are here, the more attached the boys will become. They need a father figure in their lives, but if that is not to be you, it’s best the boys do not become attached at all.”
Mr. Wraxall’s face seemed to have paled, and he made an odd sound in the back of his throat. “Me? Their father?”
“Father figure,” she clarified. “And yes, they could use one. The only men they see here are thieves and criminals. I’d like them to have a man with some morals to look up to.”
Wraxall seemed to shrink away from her. “I am not that man. I’m no father and certainly no model of good behavior.”
She frowned in disappointment but not surprise. She had known he would not want to become more involved. He was here temporarily, and as far as she was concerned, the more temporary, the better. “Then you should go home.”
He pressed his fingers to his eyes and then dragged his hands over his face. His jaw was lightly stubbled, now that it was the end of the day, and his hair was more tousled. “Madam, as I have already explained, I cannot go home if you do not.” He raised a hand before she could object. “And do not tell me you are already home. You know my meaning.”
“Then we are at an impasse,” she declared. “You cannot stay here, and I will not go home.”
“You forget I was a soldier. I have faced impasses before, and the way to resolve them is that one side must give ground.”
“And I suppose I am the one to give ground?”
He shrugged. “It’s for your own safety.”
Her chin notched up. She would give ground, all right. Let him see just what kind of ground she would give him. “Unfortunately, I have no bed for you. The boys and I occupy the second-floor rooms, and Mr. Goring has the only bed in the servants’ quarters. The former cook oc
cupied my room when I was at my father’s town house, and Mrs. Fleming did not sleep here.” She indicated the parlor with its dainty furniture. “You are welcome to sleep here, although I am not certain you will fit on the couch.”
He didn’t even blink. “I have slept in worse places, and I don’t intend to sleep much. I’ll keep guard.”
“How gallant of you.” Julia did not think she would sleep much either if she thought much about him a floor below her, awake and keeping watch. He would probably loosen his cravat and unfasten his shirt, exposing the bronze skin of his chest…
She closed her eyes and prayed for strength. If this was a battle, now was the time for a retreat. “Good night, sir.”
“Good night.”
And she left him in the parlor. When she reached her bedchamber, she found the fire in her hearth stoked and her underclothing picked up from the floor and draped over her bed. She locked the door, then hastily removed her clothing and pulled her nightgown on. It was silly, she knew. She was in the privacy of her own room, but she couldn’t help feel strange having a man—an attractive man—so close by.
She took her hair down, brushed it, and performed her nightly ablutions. Then she climbed into her warm bed and tried, desperately, not to imagine his hands on the lace at her breast.
Six
The quiet knock came a little after midnight. Neil had been sitting cross-legged on the floor on the entryway, waiting, but now he rose stiffly and crossed to the door. He hadn’t bothered locking it—a child could have forced that lock—and he opened the door and stepped outside to meet Jasper.
“Well?” he asked without preamble.
“He spent most of the day in an alehouse called the Ox and Bull.”
“Not a gin house or a brothel?”
Jasper made a noncommittal sound. It was too dark for Neil to see his expression, and he wouldn’t have been able to read it anyway, as Jasper wore his head covering and mask. “I’m not certain what the place is.”
“Not merely an alehouse?” Neil asked.
“There’s something more there. I’d like to watch the place again tomorrow. Your cull was already back here by the time I tracked him to the Ox and Bull. I’d be interested to see what he does if he goes back and who he sees.”
“So would I.” But Neil was aware he no longer commanded Jasper. “I would consider it a favor if you did this for me, Grantham, but I know you have other obligations.”
In the darkness, Neil could feel Jasper’s scowl. His shoulders straightened, and he became Lord Jasper—a man Neil rarely saw. “After all we’ve been through, you think I’d put tracking some petty rogue before your concerns?”
“I don’t even know if I have any concerns. Goring may be straight as they come.”
“I’m not ready to vouch for that. I’ll take another day to observe, if that’s agreeable to you.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
“You don’t owe me anything, Jas. I don’t want you to feel as though you owe me anything.”
Silence broken only by the distant sound of a baby squalling and the twang of someone playing a stringed instrument.
“Neil, you’re an even bigger arse than I thought. Of course I owe you. I owe you my life. But”—he held up a hand—“if you think I do this out of some sense of obligation, you’re an idiot and an arse. I do it because you’re my friend. My brother.”
Neil raked a hand through his hair. “I am an arse. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“I do. You feel guilty because you gave the orders that ended men’s lives.”
“Now, wait—”
“Don’t bloody argue, Neil. We all know it eats you up inside. We also know that every single one of us joined Draven’s troop voluntarily. And when Draven asked if we were afraid to die, we knew what we were up against. Your orders brought twelve of us back, so start looking at the men you saved and stop looking back at the men we—all of us—lost.”
Neil wished it were that simple. He wished he could close his eyes just once and not hear Bryce screaming as he burned alive or watch Guy’s eyes go flat as the blood poured from the gash in his belly.
“I’ll look into this Goring not because I owe you, but because I have your back. I’ll always have your back.”
“And I have yours, Jas. You know if you ever have need of me, you have but to say so.”
“I know.” He gripped Neil’s shoulder with one hand. And as he walked away, Neil heard him murmur, “Unfortunately, no one can give me what I need.”
* * *
The chair in the entryway needed new stuffing, but despite his aching back, Neil dozed. He didn’t dream. He’d become an expert at keeping his sleep light enough that he did not dream. He had no desire to wake the boys with his screams.
And so it was with some shock that he came awake suddenly at the sound of a blood-curdling scream.
Not his.
One of his men, then. The camp was under attack.
He reached for his pistol, then realized he wasn’t wearing it. He wasn’t in camp. He wasn’t a soldier any longer. The curving staircase of the orphanage’s entryway rose before him and the back of the chair rested against the front door. The door hadn’t opened or he would have been jarred.
He heard the scream again—a child’s scream. He grabbed the fireplace poker leaning against his chair and took the steps two at a time. When he reached the second floor, he first passed Lady Juliana’s bedchamber. Her door stood open, and one glance inside told him she had fled her bed in a hurry. The door to the older boys’ dormitory was closed, but across the way, the younger boys’ door was open.
Neil went directly to it and stepped inside, squinting at the light from a lamp set on a table. “What the devil is wrong?” he demanded.
“Shh!” came the response from the far corner, where Lady Juliana sat on the edge of one of the beds. “You’ll wake the whole house,” she chided him.
“I’ll wake the house?” He hadn’t been the one screaming.
He saw who it was. It was the dark-haired boy, Chester. Tears streamed down his face before he buried it once again in Lady Juliana’s shoulder. She was dressed all in white, a long robe of muslin draped over the bed and trailing to the floor. But the material didn’t hide her bare feet. Neil could only be glad she’d taken a moment to don the robe. Over the course of the long night, he’d entertained several fantasies about seeing her in various states of undress, and it was better for everyone if she stayed well and truly covered.
He would have followed the same principle, except he’d forgotten to pull on his coat and now stood in shirtsleeves. She had been right to worry about the lack of a chaperone. If anyone saw the two of them, she’d be as good as ruined and he’d be forced to ask her to marry him.
Neil looked about the room and saw James rubbing his eyes sleepily. Meanwhile, Charlie lay on his side, thumb tucked securely in his mouth. Jimmy slept too, his arms flung upward as though in surrender.
“You can go back to bed,” Lady Juliana said, glancing at him over her shoulder. “It was only a nightmare.” Then, looking back at the boy in her arms, she said, “You’re safe, Chester. No one will hurt you here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Neil must have looked dubious because James propped himself up on his elbows. “No need to worry, sir. He does this all the time, he does.” He nodded to Chester. “No one but me wakes up anymore.”
Neil looked back at the weeping boy, whose sobs and shudders were slowly subsiding. Why would a boy of five have frequent bad dreams? What had happened to him before he’d come here?
“Good night, then, lad. I’ll wait outside the door until everyone is settled again.” He said it more for Lady Juliana’s benefit than anyone else’s, but she ignored him and went on cooing to young Chester.
Neil stepped outside and leaned against the wall. He was tired and his body ached from t
he uncomfortable position he’d occupied for the last several hours. He missed his bed, and though he rarely had an uninterrupted night of sleep, at least in his flat there was a chance of it. He ran his hands through his hair and rolled his neck to work out the stiffness. Then he paced up and down the corridor. The third time he passed Lady Juliana’s chamber, he slowed and peered inside. He’d seen it earlier, but then the bed had been made—hastily so, but made nonetheless. He could see the slight indentation where her body had lain before she’d been awakened by Chester’s screams. He wondered if her pillow smelled like flowers or perhaps something a bit more sultry…
Neil made himself walk on. Another few passes and he craned his head to see into the dormitory. Lady Juliana stood beside Chester’s bed, looking down at him. The long robe gave her an ethereal quality, and the straight fall of her coppery hair down her back looked like a river of lava. Finally, she bent and kissed the boy’s forehead. Neil tried not to notice her rounded backside when the fabric of her robe tightened over it.
She turned and started for the door, pausing to kiss James as well. Neil moved out of the doorway and stood at attention. A moment later, she emerged and quietly pulled the door closed. She’d tugged her hair over her shoulder, and when she faced him, it fell between her breasts. They were generous breasts. The robe had opened enough for him to see the edges of the lace cupping her form. At his glance, she pulled the fabric closed, holding it securely with one small, white hand.
“You could have gone back to bed,” she told him in a whisper.
“I don’t have a bed,” he whispered back.
“That’s your choice. As you can see, I’m needed here.”
He did see that, although if he could hire the right people, that wouldn’t be the case. “James says the lad often wakes screaming.”
She nodded. “He dreams of men yelling and hurting him. I don’t know what his life was like before he came here. He says he doesn’t remember in the daylight. I think he must have been born in…well, a place no child should be born.”