Just a Little Temptation

by Merry Farmer

  The footman in question had been forced to remove his livery jacket and now slinked away to one of the doors at the far end of the room.

  “I think he’s just been sacked,” Max agreed, shaking his shoulders as if chilled.

  “We need the money,” Stephen murmured as Lady Bardess headed back toward them, “but let’s stay here as short a time as possible after the concert.”

  “Agreed,” Max said, clearing his throat and straightening as Lady Bardess drew close enough for conversation. In spite of the discomfort of the situation, Max was acutely aware that Stephen had spoken of them as a unit. It fed the hope within him.

  “It is impossible to find competent servants these days,” Lady Bardess huffed, giving her full attention to Max and virtually ignoring Stephen. “Never mind, though. Let me show you the parlor where the children will be held.”

  Max shot Stephen a wary look as the two of them followed Lady Bardess out of the conservatory and across the hall. The tour was short and far more informative than Lady Bardess intended for it to be.

  “Do you notice how none of the servants look happy?” Stephen whispered as Lady Bardess led them out of the parlor and back toward the front hall, clearly intending to see them on their way.

  “I had noticed,” Max said in return. “Never a good sign.”

  “I expect you and your rabble to be on time for the concert,” Lady Bardess said with an air of finality as she stopped in the front hall, assuming a stance that was clearly meant to get them to leave.

  “Begging your pardon, Lady Bardess,” Stephen said, without the subservient mien he’d used before, “but my girls are not rabble. They are beautiful young children with bright futures ahead of them. I will not hear them spoken of dismissively.”

  Max’s pulse quickened at the show of strength. Compassionate as he was, Stephen was definitely a man. A potent man.

  Lady Bardess didn’t share his appreciation. “Mr. Siddel, do you wish to reap the benefits of the connections I can provide for you or not?” she asked in clipped tones.

  “I do,” Stephen said with a crisp nod. “But I believe it is possible for my girls to benefit from your magnanimousness without being viewed as trash.”

  Lady Bardess’s brow shot up and her mouth worked as though she didn’t know how to reply.

  Max’s whole body thrilled at the clever way Stephen took charge.

  “We will be on time,” Stephen went on. He nodded, back to being deferential. “Good day, Lady Bardess.”

  He started for the door before Lady Bardess could give him leave to go. Max tried not to grin too widely at the shift in power. “Good day, my lady,” he said, providing the respect that Lady Bardess would demand so that Stephen wouldn’t have to give it. “I will be certain to give my mother your regards when next I see her.”

  “Yes, please do.” Lady Bardess clumsily attempted to flirt with him one last time before Max hurried out the door after Stephen.

  Once they were out on the street, they both burst into laughter. Max leaned into Stephen, gripping his arm and hiding his face against Stephen’s shoulder for a moment as though they were mischievous boys in a schoolroom instead of grown men on a fashionable street in London.

  “We shouldn’t,” Stephen warned him, straightening and clearing his throat. “I shouldn’t have defied Lady Bardess that way.”

  “I’m glad you did,” Max said, letting go of Stephen’s arm and slapping his back instead. “There’s more fight in you than meets the eye.”

  “I have to fight,” Stephen said, his expression hardening. “I have twenty-five helpless souls in my care to fight for.”

  “And I adore you for it.”

  Max didn’t grasp the full implication of his words until Stephen turned to him with a look of utter, bashful surprise. The flush that came to his face was enough to make Max wish there were a dark and undisturbed alcove nearby where he could show Stephen just how deep his adoration went.

  But Stephen cleared his throat, stepping away from Max. “The hired hack is gone. We’ll have to find another.”

  “It shouldn’t be hard to do,” Max said, unable to wipe the smile from his face, even though he worried he’d crossed a line. A few beats went by as they walked toward a busier street where they would be more likely to find a carriage. “I’m glad you stood up to Lady Bardess. Our sort need standing up to more often.”

  Stephen sent him a look that was both grateful and wary. “I wish I was as convinced. I’m still deeply uncertain about letting any of my girls take part in that concert.”

  “What are you worried about?” Max asked, deliberately slowing his steps so that they could walk together for as long as possible.

  Stephen winced and rolled his shoulders. “I don’t know. Something about that house just seems off.”

  Max shrugged. “I’m not denying it, but I am used to houses like that.”

  Stephen glanced at him with a look of trust, but also with question, as if he craved Max’s opinion. It did decidedly carnal things to Max to know that Stephen wanted any part of him.

  “I’ll tell you what,” he said, grinning to put Stephen at ease. “Why don’t we all take a trip out to the country to give ourselves time and space to think about it.”

  Stephen stopped on the curb and gaped at Max as though he’d gone mad. “A trip to the country? What in heaven’s name does that mean?”

  “My father has a massive estate in Hampshire,” Max told him. “There’s plenty of room for a passel of young girls and their pseudo-father to set up a camp for the weekend. There’s a pond—though it’s probably frigid at this time of year—pastures, meadows, animals, both wild and tame, and plenty of activities to be had.”

  Stephen’s eyes grew wider. “You want to host the entire orphanage at your father’s estate for a weekend trip?”

  “Why not?” Max grinned. “I’m not even sure my father, or anyone else, is there. And how often do your girls get to enjoy fresh, country air?”

  “Never,” Stephen answered, adjusting his spectacles. “But are you certain you really want to take this on?”

  “For the chance to spend a weekend in the country with you?” Max let his grin turn heated. “I’d be willing to risk anything.”

  Temptation filled Stephen’s eyes. A devilish grin slowly spread across his face, matching the fire in his eyes. Within seconds, though, Stephen schooled his expression, like he was fighting what Max could clearly see he felt. “I’m intrigued by this idea,” Stephen said, walking on as if to avoid his feelings.

  “It’s settled, then,” Max said, caught between giving Stephen space and pushing him until he gave in to what they both wanted. “I’ll make all the arrangements, purchase the necessary train tickets, and warn my father’s staff that we’re coming. I can guarantee that it’ll be a weekend you won’t soon forget.”

  At least, it would be if Max had anything to do with it.

  Chapter 5

  Making arrangements for twenty-five girls, Annie Ross, Stephen, and himself to take the train to Hampshire was a Herculean feat, but one that Max was able to manage. He knew about money and how to throw it around to get what he wanted. He knew about twisting arms and cajoling his way into the things he needed. It was relatively simple to secure an entire train car from London to Winchester.

  What he was completely unprepared for was a two-hour train journey in what amounted to a sardine can with two dozen active, curious, incorrigible little hellions.

  “Jane, give Lord Hillsboro those scissors,” Stephen called across the din of chatter, laughter, and squeals as the train rocketed through the countryside. “I don’t know how you managed to bring them to begin with. Minnie, pull Ursula back into the train. She shouldn’t stick her head so far out the window anyhow. Hester, darling, why are you crying? It’s a holiday. We’re not taking you to the country to leave you there.”

  As Stephen marched down the aisle to take the weeping Hester into his arms, lifting her even though she was far too old
and likely too heavy to be carried, Max rushed to the other end of the car to snatch the sinister-looking scissors from Jane’s hands.

  “What are your intentions for these scissors, madam?” he asked the spritely, short-haired girl, one eyebrow arched.

  “Nothing.” Jane handed over the scissors with a look of pretend innocence that fooled no one.

  “She’s trying to cut my hair off,” the girl seated next to her declared indignantly. “She can’t stand not having hair herself.”

  “I am not!” Jane shouted.

  “Are too!”

  “Am not!”

  “Are too!”

  Max kept smiling through the headache that was forming behind his temples. He had no idea how Stephen could maintain his sanity in such a storm.

  “But you do have hair, Jane,” he interrupted the argument. “Quite lovely hair too, if you ask me.”

  Jane snapped away from sticking her tongue out at the other girl and stared up at him with wide eyes. “But it was cut short because of the lice,” she explained to him.

  Max shrugged. “That may be, but it’s delicious and curly.” He scrubbed a hand through her messy hair, which, admittedly, needed a good washing. “Just like mine.” He raked his free hand through his own, curly hair.

  Jane blinked, and realization dawned in her eyes. “Your hair is curly,” she said in an awed voice, touching her head. “We’re exactly the same.” Her eyes suddenly filled with stars.

  Max laughed. It wasn’t the first time he’d been compared to a girl. “We are ind—”

  His words were cut off by a sharp scream. He snapped straight and turned to the center of the train just in time to see Stephen lunge across a row of seats—Hester still clinging to his side—to grab the back of Ursula’s dress as she lost her footing and pitched forward through the open train window. Several of the girls screamed—and screamed and screamed and screamed—until Stephen yanked Ursula all the way back into her seat. Of course, the girl didn’t stay seated. She twisted and launched herself into Stephen’s arms.

  “I ate a bug!” she wailed, burying her head against Stephen’s shoulder.

  Some of the screaming turned into weeping in solidarity along with Ursula. Stephen straightened, now carrying a girl in each arm, though both were years too old to be carried.

  “You’re all right, sweetheart,” Stephen cooed to her. “I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”

  Max’s insides turned into absolute mush at the sight and he mooned over Stephen as blatantly as Jane mooned over him. Never in a million years would he have thought a man with two awkward orphan girls clinging to him while he stood, surrounded by more laughing, crying, and chattering girls, could be so masculine. Never would he have imagined a man who wore his tender heart on his sleeve could be so devilishly arousing. Max’s tastes had always tended toward obvious shows of strength and virility. But there was something about a man who could exude masculinity while surrounded by girls that fired every one of his senses and filled him with lust.

  “I can take Ursula from you.” Annie Ross rushed from the seat where she had been helping two of the older girls organize snacks to hand out to the younger children, and settled in at Stephen’s side. “You have so many more important things to do.”

  Max grinned. He wasn’t the only one utterly captivated by Stephen.

  Stephen peeked down the length of the car, meeting Max’s eyes with a look that seemed to reassure him that he had nothing to worry about where Annie was concerned. “It’s no trouble at all,” he said, though Ursula seemed more than willing to slip into Annie’s arms. “We should be close to Winchester at any rate.”

  Max checked out the window. He’d made the journey to his father’s country estate enough times to know they would be arriving in a matter of minutes. He only hoped the army of carriages he had asked his father’s butler to have sent to the station would be there.

  “Can I have my scissors back?” Jane asked, still staring up at Max with adoration. “I promise not to use them for anything but paper dolls.”

  Max shook his thoughts away from Stephen—never an easy thing to do—and glanced down at Jane with a suspicious look. “I think it’s best if I hold onto them for now, young lady.”

  Jane’s shoulders sagged as she settled into a pout.

  A few minutes later, after biscuits had been distributed to all the girls and the train whistle sounded, the train jerked and screeched its way into the Winchester station. Pandemonium erupted as the girls leapt from their seats, some gathering their belongings, others forgetting them entirely in their rush for the car’s doors, the cases of extra clothing and nightgowns they’d brought with them were fetched from overhead racks, and chaos reigned as they prepared to disembark.

  “If you would please form a line in the center aisle,” Stephen called over the squirming, rushing, chattering din. “We will split into two lines when we exit the station, and we will all behave as we climb into Lord Hillsboro’s carriages. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, Sir,” rang a chorus of tiny, female voices.

  It was one thing to issue the order, but they all had their hands full as they hurried to implement it before the train chugged on to its next stop. The conductors they met on the platform frowned impatiently as the full complement of the girls spilled out into the station. Max, Annie, and Stephen were all at their wits’ ends just trying to keep the girls from shooting off in all directions to explore whatever new sight caught their fancy.

  “I hope to God that we retrieved everyone and everything from the train,” Stephen told Max with a wry grin as the train rolled out of the station and on with its journey.

  “Have you ever left anyone behind on a jaunt like this before?” Max asked as they crossed the tracks and made their way through the station and out to the street.

  Stephen’s answer was an ominous look that had Max laughing in spite of the dire implication.

  “We got her back eventually,” Stephen defended himself, then started laughing himself.

  It felt good to stand shoulder to shoulder with Stephen as they appreciated the humor of the situation. Max’s life had been far too serious and much too filled with decorum until that point. There was something freeing in being in the midst of youthful chaos and high spirits. It connected him to all the things he’d never been allowed to enjoy when he was young like these girls. It connected him with Stephen on a level that felt like a precursor to something else.

  “Those must be your father’s,” Stephen said, nodding to a line of black, lacquered carriages with the Eastleigh crest.

  Max had been too busy studying the curve of Stephen’s lips and the way his spectacles were just slightly askew from carrying and shepherding girls to notice. Dammit, how Stephen did things to him. Things that were entirely inappropriate to show with two dozen girls and Annie watching them. But if he ever had the chance to get Stephen alone….

  “We should be able to fit six girls per carriage,” Stephen said, turning from the row of carriages to the two lines of girls waiting behind him. “With one extra in one of the carriages. That means each of us can accompany a carriage with the oldest girls taking one for themselves. Beatrice, do you think you can supervise a carriage of older girls on your own?” he called to one of the girls who looked almost as old as Annie.

  “Yes, sir,” she answered, standing taller and sending sideways looks to her friends, as though she had been chosen for a special duty. Indeed, she had.

  “Right. Let’s soldier on, then,” Stephen said.

  Max regretted the fact that he wouldn’t be able to ride with Stephen to his father’s estate, but he understood the necessity of supervising all of the girls. He understood that even more when Jane insisted on riding with him and sitting on his lap, which was just a ploy for her to attempt to win her scissors back by picking his pocket. She failed, which resulted in a tantrum, which agitated all of the girls riding with him.

  By the time the carriages rolled up the long, winding
drive to his father’s estate, Max had refereed a shouting match, stopped two girls from fisticuffs, dried six sobbing sets of eyes, and listened to fifteen minutes of inane jokes about bodily functions that would have made his Eton chums proud.

  The girls were definitely ready to break free and scatter as they flew out of the carriages in the small courtyard in front of Eastleigh Manor’s grand entrance. Stephen and Annie looked as though their journeys from the train station had been just as eventful as Max’s. Donavan, his father’s butler, broke his usually stoic composure to gape at the sea of girls as they dashed about the courtyard, like ants exiting a disturbed anthill.

  “Donavan,” Max called to him, striding forward to greet the butler. “Thank you for sending the carriages. This is Mr. Stephen Siddel of the Briar Street Orphanage and his associate, Miss Annie Ross.”

  Annie gazed up at Donavan and the façade of the house as though she’d reached the Pearly Gates and Donavan was St. Peter. Her mouth fell open, but she failed to produce a single sound.

  Stephen broke away from where he was attempting to gather the girls into two lines again, as they had been at the station, to greet Donavan. “It’s a pleasure to be here, sir,” he said. Max’s face heated with charm and embarrassment. Clearly, Stephen had no idea how to greet servants.

  “Good day, sir.” Donavan handled the faux pas with grace and understanding, nodding to Stephen in return. He shifted to Max. “Your father and mother are in the summer parlor, my lord.”

  Max’s heart dropped to his gut. “I thought Father was in London and Mama was still attending Claudia.”

  “They returned yesterday, my lord,” Donavan explained. “When they received word that you intended to host your friends for a weekend.” He peeked sideways at the shrieking, giggling girls dashing around the courtyard, investigating the architecture, smelling flowers, and, in Jane’s case, picking up stones from the drive and hurling them into the fountain at the center of the courtyard.