No Earls Allowed

by Shana Galen

  “Who are you?” she demanded.

  Neil had never been called charming. He was a soldier through and through, better with orders and strategies than charisma. Rafe was the charming one, but at that moment, Neil would have traded places with his friend. He bowed, giving the gesture a flourish he’d seen Rafe make many times. “Major Neil Wraxall at your service.” He never used his rank any more, but he needed all the fortification he could in the face of this tiny tyrant.

  Mrs. Dunwitty put her hands on her tiny waist. “And what were you doing in the parlor with Lady Juliana, Major?”

  The lady certainly did not have a small voice. Neil was fairly certain all of Spitalfields had heard the question. He held his hands up defensively. “Nothing.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Then why was the door locked?”

  “For…safety?”

  Juliana rushed out of the room then, and Neil wished she had taken a moment to right her appearance. Not that he minded her rumpled hair or her gaping robe. But he minded Mrs. Dunwitty the Terrible seeing her thus. Mrs. Dunwitty’s large, green eyes widened behind her spectacles. “Lady Juliana! What on earth!”

  Neil glanced at Mr. Goring, who quickly looked at the ceiling as though something up there interested him greatly. “Perhaps we should discuss this in private,” Neil suggested.

  Mrs. Dunwitty glanced behind her, seeming to notice the audience of orphans for the first time. “Boys,” she said, her voice full of authority. “March right back upstairs. I want you in the dining room in twenty minutes—beds made, teeth brushed, hair combed, and dressed impeccably.” She clapped her hands. “Off with you!”

  To Neil’s astonishment, the boys scattered, running like squirrels when a carriage approached. He could have used Mrs. Dunwitty in the dragoons. As the boys retreated, he heard Charlie say, “What does ‘’peccably’ mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Robbie answered. “But we’d better do it.”

  “And you.” Mrs. Dunwitty looked at Mr. Goring. “Do you not have duties to attend to?”

  “Yes, madam. I’ll see to them right away.”

  Then she turned her gaze on him. “If you would, Major.” She gestured to the parlor. Juliana scurried in and Neil followed. Mrs. Dunwitty closed the door with a thud behind them. “Now, I think we all know what happened here.”

  Juliana shook her head. “No, madam, you do not. Nothing happened.”

  “Do not talk back to me, young lady. I may not be a woman of the world, but I am not a fool. A man and a woman alone in a locked room is bound to lead to frolics.”

  “Madam,” Neil said as seriously as he could, “I vow there was no frolicking between Lady Juliana and me.”

  She glared at him. “And even if I believe you, sir, what does that matter? It is the appearance of frolicking that is the problem. You have ruined the lady whether you had your wicked way with her or not.”

  “My wicked way?” If he wasn’t afraid she’d smash him over the head with her cane, he might have protested further. How fitting that he, of all men, should be accused of deflowering the lady.

  “I am not ruined, Mrs. Dunwitty. Not that it matters. I told you that I will not marry. Regardless, Mr. Wraxall did not compromise me. He arrived late last night and fell asleep on the couch in the parlor. I…accidentally fell asleep too.”

  Neil studied her expression. There was more to the story, but he would wait until he was alone with Lady Juliana to hear it. He rather wondered how the lady had come to be asleep in his arms this morning.

  “Do you expect me to believe that?”

  “It is the truth.”

  Mrs. Dunwitty looked at Neil, and he nodded his agreement.

  “Very well,” said Mrs. Dunwitty, seating herself in one of the armchairs. “I will accept that explanation for the time being. But we have not finished our discussion of this matter. However, I see there may be more pressing matters to discuss. You wrote that you needed a teacher?”

  “Yes. Have you come to help?”

  So this was Lady Juliana’s former governess. It all made sense. No wonder she played the overzealous chaperone. And no wonder Lady Juliana had asked for her assistance. If anyone could teach these boys, it was obviously Mrs. Dunwitty the Terrible.

  “I will stay and teach until you can find a replacement. I’m far too old and feeble to take the position permanently.”

  Neil covered his laugh with a cough.

  “Are you quite well, Major?” Mrs. Dunwitty asked.

  “Actually,” he said, clearing his throat, “I have a few matters to attend to. If you will excuse me.”

  “Of course.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. A knock sounded on the front door, and Neil knew he was saved.

  “What sort of matters?” Lady Juliana asked, her eyes flicking to him as if to beg him not to desert her.

  “That is not our concern,” Mrs. Dunwitty told her former charge. “Now, tell me what the boys have learned thus far.”

  Neil waved as he left the parlor, only to almost trip over the new cook, who had been standing just outside the room. “Mrs. Koch, was there something you needed?”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Yah. If you vant me to cook the breakfast, then I don’t have the time to answer the doors.”

  “Of course. You needn’t answer the door.” That was his excuse for escape. “Where is Mr. Goring?”

  “I don’t know vhere that man vent, but he vent in a hurry.”

  Bloody hell. Neil knew exactly where Goring had gone.

  “You have a guest, yah?” She nodded to Neil and then pointed to the entryway.

  Neil pointed to his chest as if to verify it was he who had a guest. When the cook nodded, Neil moved down the corridor and into the entryway and found Jackson suspiciously eyeing one of the buckets collecting rain.

  The valet was tall and almost gangly with thinning, black hair that he combed over the bald spot on the top of his head. He had large eyes that reminded Ewan of a puppy’s, along with a bulbous nose. But Jackson was good at his job. He did not dress Neil to within an inch of his life, as Rafe’s valet did Rafe, but he made sure Neil was somewhat fashionable and that his clothing was well-maintained.

  Jackson frowned with disapproval when he spotted Neil. “I see I was right to come.”

  It had obviously been a mistake to stop at his flat the previous day before visiting the Draven Club. “No, you were not. I didn’t ask you to come here. I asked you to send clothing and toiletries.”

  A thud came from upstairs, and Neil realized it had been quiet for too long.

  Jackson’s puppy eyes widened with pleading. “Sir, I apologize for my behavior yesterday. I promise it will never happen again.”

  Neil moved toward the stairs. “What behavior yesterday?”

  Jackson loped after him. “My gross inattention to my duties. Please do not dismiss me, sir.”

  Neil paused outside the drawing room at the top of the stairs. “You mean, when I found you napping?”

  Jackson’s face turned pink and he hung his head. “It will never happen again. I swear on my mother’s grave.”

  Neil held up both hands. “I have no intention of sending you packing.”

  Another sound came from above, but this time, it was more of a crash.

  “Go back to my flat and sleep all you want.” Neil raced up the next set of stairs. “This torture can’t last much longer.”

  “I cannot do that, sir,” Jackson said, racing after him. “I have come to prove my indispensability.”

  Neil heard the shouts and the thumps from behind the closed door of the older boys’ dormitory. Chester and James stood in the doorway of the younger boys’ chamber, eyes wide with concern.

  “What is this about?” Neil gestured to the closed door.

  Chester shook his head. James just stared, wide-eyed.
r />   Neil lifted the latch, but the door didn’t budge. The boys must have put something against the door to prevent entrance. He tried shoving it open with his shoulder but made little progress. “Open up!” He pounded on the door. “Open up or I’ll send all of you to a workhouse!”

  The ruckus inside continued, and the door stayed closed. Neil pounded on it again.

  “If you will excuse me, sir,” Jackson interrupted. “Might I have a try?”

  Neil stared at the valet. “Why not?”

  Jackson cleared his throat. “The first boy to open the door will receive a shilling to buy a sweet.”

  Michael opened the door. “Where’s my shilling?”

  Neil pushed past him and into the center of the room where Billy and Robbie were circling each other, fists raised. Robbie’s nose bled freely, flowing over his mouth and down his neck. Billy’s cheek was red and his lip was split, but he was certainly winning the match.

  “What the dev…deuce is this about?”

  The boys ignored him as Billy struck at Robbie with an impressive left hook. Neil stepped between the boys and pushed them apart. Robbie lowered his arms immediately, but Billy resisted. When he tried to throw a punch at Neil, Neil used the back of his arm to push Billy up against a wall. “You want to think long and hard before you try to punch me again, lad. Hit me and I’ll have you in a workhouse before noon.”

  “No, you will not!” came Lady Juliana’s breathless voice. She ran into the room, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide. “Robbie! Oh no! Billy, do stop.”

  The boys moved aside to allow her to enter. She rushed straight to where he held Billy. “Let him go, sir.”

  “My lady,” Neil said, “with all due respect, I believe I am better suited to handle this situation.”

  “I don’t need your kind of help,” she argued. “How dare you come in here and threaten to take my boys away?”

  Neil gaped at her. “This”—he inclined his head toward Billy—“is no boy. He’s practically a man, and he doesn’t need a hug. He needs another man to tell him what is and is not acceptable.”

  “I don’t have to listen to you,” Billy muttered.

  “Let me talk to him,” Juliana said.

  “No. Go tend to Robbie. His nose may be broken.”

  She glanced quickly at Robbie, then back to Billy.

  “Lady Juliana.” Mrs. Dunwitty stood outside the room, her hand on her heart and her walking stick clutched in a small hand. “Listen to the major. Not only is that other boy injured, but the little boys are scared. They need you far more than that one.”

  Juliana looked from Billy to Mrs. Dunwitty to Robbie. Jackson had given Robbie a handkerchief, and the boy had it pressed to his nose. “I will tend to the young master,” Jackson said, “if you want to see to the little ones, my lady.”

  “I’ll help with the little ones,” Michael said. “Then can I get my shilling?”

  Juliana finally nodded to Mrs. Dunwitty and gave Neil one last look. “We will discuss this later,” she said, then moved toward the youngest of the orphans.

  Neil nodded. “Count on it.”

  Thirteen

  Julia calmed the younger boys, then ordered all the boys except Robbie and Billy to tidy their rooms and dress for the day. Mr. Wraxall’s servant had been more helpful than Julia might have anticipated. She had found time to change into a light-green dress with fairer green piping while Jackson tended to Robbie. When she had pulled her hair into a simple tail and come down to eat, the valet had informed her the boy’s nose was not broken. It seemed he’d managed to restore order to the chaos of the morning, leading the boys to breakfast in the dining room in an orderly fashion and then to the drawing room for their first lesson with Mrs. Dunwitty.

  Wraxall had shown up at the end of breakfast without Billy, and when Julia had asked where he was, all he’d said was, “We’ll discuss it later.”

  Her stomach had cramped in fear. What if he’d already sent Billy away? What if it was too late and Billy was lost to her forever? Her hands had shaken so badly she could not manage to lift a spoon to eat her own porridge, even if she had been able to keep food down.

  When Jackson took the boys to the drawing room, Julia had her first moment alone with Wraxall. “Where is Billy?”

  “He’s thinking about his behavior this morning.” Wraxall ate a piece of bread.

  “He needs breakfast.”

  “He needs someone to give him some hard and fast rules. He’s like an untrained soldier—dangerous.”

  “Billy is not dangerous. He just needs someone to love him. He’s been at the orphanage for years and seen adults come and go. His life has been full of unpredictability.”

  Wraxall tried his porridge, nodded, and ate another spoonful. “Exactly. Now we give him predictability. If he breaks another boy’s nose, there’s a consequence.”

  “Thankfully, Robbie’s nose isn’t broken, just badly bruised.”

  “That’s not for lack of trying.”

  “Listen, Mr. Wraxall, you were sent here to persuade me to return home. I have told you that this is my home now. I have authority from the board of directors. You have no right to tell me how to raise the children.”

  The look he gave her was one she imagined he gave to the enemy before coldly bayoneting him through the heart. He stood slowly. “Listen, my lady—”

  Jackson cleared his throat. “I am sorry to interrupt, but now that the boys are at their lessons, I wondered if there was somewhere I could unpack your things, sir, and perhaps ready water and your razor for a shave?”

  Wraxall rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I have spare shirts in one of the servants’ rooms. I suppose you could unpack there.”

  Jackson stared at him. “You have been sleeping in the servants’ quarters?”

  “I haven’t really been sleeping at all, but those are the only unoccupied quarters.”

  “I see.”

  Julia heard the note of disapproval and did not blame the man. Wraxall did not belong here, but she was in the uncomfortable position of needing him. What made her dependence even worse was that she no longer needed him only to protect them from Slag or to see to the roof repairs; she seemed to need his help with the boys as well.

  He was becoming the father the boys so desperately needed, except that Wraxall, like most fathers she’d known, was destined to let the children down.

  “I won’t need a shave,” Wraxall told his servant. “I plan to climb onto the roof and assess the damage.”

  “The roof, sir?”

  “I’ve been on roofs before, and if I’m not mistaken, Jackson, you have been around children before.”

  Julia cocked her head. “You do seem to have a way with them, Jackson. I herd them like blind mice, but you managed to move them in an orderly fashion from the dormitories to the dining room and thence to the classroom.” She had no concerns about the boys now that they were ensconced with Mrs. Dunwitty. Her former governess was stern but kind and a gifted teacher. Despite their best efforts to remain ignorant, Harriett and Julia had always managed to learn something under Mrs. Dunwitty’s tutelage.

  Jackson’s shoulders seemed to straighten. “I have had some experience with children, my lady. I am the oldest of fourteen.”

  “Fourteen?” Wraxall sputtered.

  “Your poor mother,” Julia said.

  Jackson shook his head, unperturbed. “She is still strong as ever. She bore nineteen children in all. Fourteen of us survived.”

  “I never knew this about you, Jackson,” Wraxall said.

  “You never asked, sir.”

  “How are you with roofs?”

  “Somewhat less skilled, sir.”

  “Then I’ll go alone.” He looked at her. “If Mr. Goring returns, tell him I want to see him immediately.”

  “I will. Are you certain yo
u should go on the roof by yourself?”

  “I’m a man of many talents, Lady Juliana.” And with that he strode out of the room. Jackson followed.

  Jackson called after him. “Sir, when you have a moment, I do need to speak with you alone.”

  “That will have to wait, Jackson,” he said, his voice trailing away.

  She wished the room did not feel so empty without him. She wished she didn’t have the urge to stand outside and watch him up on the roof. Mostly, she wished she could send him away and never look at him again, because every moment she spent with him made her long for more.

  She had to keep busy. Clearing the dishes, she brought them to the kitchen and spent an hour with Mrs. Koch, making lists of foodstuffs to stock the empty larder. Julia knew she would have to write to the board and ask for funds. They would want to know what had happened to the food she had bought last month, and she would have to explain it had been pilfered. That would certainly not make her look a very good steward. What if the board denied her request? How would she find the funds to feed the children? She couldn’t ask her father for more money, and the majority of her pin money was gone. It also looked as though she’d have to pay for roof repairs. With a sigh, Julia made her way to the parlor to begin her letters. If there was one thing she missed about her life in Mayfair, it was never giving a thought to money.

  As soon as she unlocked the parlor and stepped inside, Billy jumped to his feet. He might have bloodied Robbie’s nose, but Billy had taken a few hits too. One cheek was red and swollen and his lip had been split. Julia sighed. “Oh, Billy. Look at you.”

  “Robbie looks worse.”

  “Robbie is your friend. Why were you fighting him?”

  Billy looked down at his scraped hands. Julia moved into the room and closed the door behind her. “I don’t understand. You and Robbie never seemed to have a problem before.”

  Billy’s shoulders hunched. “You wouldn’t understand, my lady.”