by Merry Farmer
Stephen crossed to Lori, bending to pick up the pieces of the shepherdess and then to hug the girl. “Quick. Get back into line and they’ll never know it was you,” he whispered.
Lori did as she was told. Stephen walked the line of girls, urging them to silence as if they were all a part of the conspiracy. They responded as well as could be expected, falling back into line somewhat.
A few minutes later, Max stepped back out into the hall. “They’re ready now,” he said, then moved closer to Stephen and murmured, “I recommend keeping the girls, especially the older ones, away from George.”
That comment sobered Stephen in a hurry. Just because he spent all of his time around innocent, young girls didn’t mean he was as innocent and unaware of the dangers that could befall them as they were. “I’ll take my lead from you. Arrange the girls as you see fit.”
Max nodded, then led the way into the parlor. Stephen felt rather like he was leading a small parade. That feeling shifted to the sense he was leading his precious charges to their doom as they entered the parlor. The room was exquisitely decorated. The furniture had been cleared from one side of the room to make way for the girls and to form an audience. Max’s father and mother sat front and center on a small sofa. His father looked impatient, but his mother seemed delighted by the prospect of entertainment. Max favored her in many ways, including the kindness in her eyes. That much put Stephen’s mind to rest.
The other members of their aristocratic audience shattered his calm. Max’s brother, George, was easy to pick out. He was older than Max by several years, but they bore a resemblance. Except that George was red-faced and puffy from drink and could barely sit up straight. A sour-faced woman sat near him, sending him disgusted looks. She must have been George’s wife. What shocked Stephen was that a dozen other guests in fine clothes and in various stages of inebriation sat in the audience. They cooed and gawked as the girls filed in and took up their places at the front of the room.
“Aren’t they just the most darling things you’ve ever seen,” a middle-aged woman with a powdered face said in a voice that was far too loud for evening. “Like charming little street urchins.”
Stephen’s back was up in an instant. He fought to smile at the audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the choir of the Briar Street Orphanage.”
He stepped to the side, beaming with pride, and gesturing toward his girls, all of whom beamed at him. Annie had taken a seat at the piano in one corner of the room and began to play.
“Who told that filthy slut she could touch our piano?” George bellowed as Annie played the opening notes of the first song.
Annie fumbled, filling the air with jangling, discordant notes. She jerked toward Stephen with large, frightened eyes that filled with tears.
The audience was taken aback, but none of them did more than gape at George. Max’s mother lowered her head to stare at her hands in her lap, but she remained silent. Max’s father merely glared at George.
“She’s not bad looking at that,” George slurred on. “I’ve got some ivories she can tickle if she’d like.” He guffawed and reached for his trousers.
“George!” Max hissed, stepping away from the side of the room, where he’d taken up a post to watch, and marching to his brother. He leaned close to hiss something at George that Stephen couldn’t hear.
Stephen took the opportunity to stride across the room in front of the girls, heading toward the piano to rest a steadying hand on Annie’s shoulder. “Ignore him,” he whispered, trying his best to smile. “He’s a drunken lout. Max warned me of as much. Just play.”
Annie nodded and faced forward, though her hands shook as she touched the piano keys. She began to play the opening notes of their first song again.
“…and we all know that you wouldn’t know a tasty piece of arse if it came up and flashed its tits at you.” George raised his voice in whatever argument he was having with Max just as the girls started in on the first verse of their hymn.
More of the noble audience gasped or muttered in shock than before, but still no one lifted a finger to settle George down. Max did his best to counter George’s bellowing, but it was clear George thought about as much of him as he did of a beggar in the streets.
“Get away from me and go play with the rest of the girls,” George shouted, shoving Max away, though in his blurry state, he had little strength. “That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”
The girls faltered and fumbled their way through the song. Only Beatrice, a few of the other girls, and, surprisingly, Jane were able to keep singing with clear and steady voices. Jane glared at George in a way that made Stephen glad Max hadn’t given her scissors back. The rest of the girls were quickly descending into silence at best, weeping and sobs at worst.
Stephen did the only thing he could think to settle them. He stepped away from Annie and into the middle of the group, joining the song in his high tenor. The girls looked to him with fear and anxiety in their eyes, but as he sang, more and more of them found their voices. They inched closer to him, clustering around, the two on either side of him grabbing his hands.
Somehow, they made it to the end of the song. Max gave up trying to argue with his brother and stepped to the side, arms crossed in fury. Stephen hesitated, meeting Annie’s eyes as she glanced to him in horror, silently asking whether she should go on or whether it was over yet. Stephen peeked at Max’s mother. The duchess was as anxious as Annie. She shifted this way and that, apparently attempting to judge the mood of her guests and her son.
“Oh, just get on with it, we haven’t got all night,” Max’s father growled at last, sending several of the girls back into fits of sobbing. “George, if you cannot behave yourself, then kindly leave.”
“I know when I’m not wanted,” George said, rising shakily to his feet. He leered at Max, then snorted. “Unlike some of us.”
Stephen’s gut clenched with pure hatred as George stumbled out of the room, glaring at Max as though Max were a worm. Rarely did Stephen allow himself to feel that level of disgust in anyone, but George would forever be an exception to his rule of approaching everyone with compassion. Especially since it was clear George had hit his mark in hinting that Max wasn’t wanted. The way Max’s posture crumbled and his face fell filled Stephen with the urge to rush to him and take him in his arms the way he would any of his girls when their hearts had been crushed.
No, he wanted to do far more than simply kiss it and make it better with Max. Far more.
He forced himself to put those desires aside for the moment and nodded to Annie to go on. The room settled after George’s departure, and the girls were able to get through their entire repertoire without any more incidents. That wasn’t to say that their audience embraced them with open arms and wild applause when they finished, though.
After a smattering of applause, the loud woman from before they’d begun said, “Well, that was decidedly anticlimactic.”
Most of the others glanced back and forth to each other in embarrassed agreement.
“I thought it was lovely,” Max’s mother said, rising and stepping forward to smile at the girls. “You should all be so proud of yourselves. It must be very hard to learn those songs and to sing so…memorably after being born in the gutter and raised on the streets.”
Stephen’s heart fell so hard and so fast that he was tempted to indulge in tears like his girls. “Thank you very much, Lady Eastleigh,” he said with as bright a smile as he could manage. “You are too kind.”
Max’s mother gave him one of the most condescending smiles he’d ever received. “I trust that you and your darling charges will enjoy your accommodations for the night.”
She couldn’t have dismissed him more clearly if she’d pointed a finger at the door and ordered them to leave. Stephen nodded, not having the heart to protest or say more, and shuffled his girls out of the room. Annie slunk away from the piano, leading the way, as the two lines of bowed heads and stooped shoulders hurried
out of the parlor and down the hall to flee the house.
“I am so, so sorry,” Max said, jogging to catch up with Stephen as they headed out into the cool, April evening. “I’ve never been so embarrassed by my family in all my life, and that’s saying something.”
“It’s not your fault,” Stephen said, sending him a weak smile as Max fell into step with him.
“If I had known my father and George would behave like that, I never would have suggested you sing for them,” Max went on. “Even my mother’s behavior was unforgiveable.”
“I should have been ready for it,” Stephen sighed, pushing a hand through his hair and adjusting his spectacles. “I should have known that the country sort would look down on my girls.” It was the kindest way he could think to say that aristocrats like Max’s family, possibly like Max himself, saw themselves as infinitely superior to those who had been born into challenging circumstances.
Max must have sensed the meaning behind Stephen’s statement. He grabbed Stephen’s arm and pulled him to a stop. “I’m not like them,” he said in a firm voice, meeting and holding Stephen’s eyes with sharp seriousness. “You know I’m not like that.”
The girls continued on, following Annie down the path that would take them back to the barn. Stephen watched them, waiting until they were well out of earshot before turning back to Max.
“I know,” he said, letting tenderness into his voice. He wavered, wanting to lean into Max, but knowing the risk he ran by letting his guard down, especially after the miserable concert.
“You saw the way they treated me too.” Max moved in where Stephen hadn’t dared to, raising a hand to touch one of the buttons on Stephen’s jacket. “In fact, I have half a mind to think that the bad behavior tonight was a punishment to me for coming here in the first place, for reminding them I exist.”
“It’s unconscionable,” Stephen hissed. “Who do they think they are to cast someone as wonderful as you aside and to treat innocent girls like that, when they have no more control over their fate than the lilies of the field?”
“They think they’re the bloody Duke of Eastleigh and his heir,” Max answered, a world of hurt and heartache in his voice.
Stephen swayed toward him, but checked his impulse to take Max in his arms and kiss him until all was right with the world. They stood in plain sight of anyone who might come out of the house, or even look out the windows. It was dark, but not so dark they wouldn’t be seen.
“We should walk on,” he said, clearing his throat to hide the gruffness of desire in his voice. He already felt anxious about letting the girls out of his sight for so long.
Max nodded, and they continued down the path, but not so fast that they would catch up to the girls. Stephen was so tempted to reach for Max’s hand, if only to feel the comfort of their fingers entwined, that it drove him to distraction. The battle within him was quickly growing to a full war. He couldn’t forget Alice and the consequences of indulging himself before, no matter how much more Max meant to him than that clerk years ago.
After several long minutes of silence, he said, “I’m pulling the girls out of Lady Bardess’s concert next week.”
“What? You can’t do that,” Max said, more alarmed than Stephen expected him to be.
Stephen shook his head. “What’s to say that they won’t receive the same, miserable reception there as they received tonight?”
“Lady Bardess’s concert is specifically for groups like your girls,” Max said. “The audience knows what to expect.”
“I won’t put them through that again,” Stephen said. Just like he was loath to put them through the consequences of following his cock again.
“But you need the money the concert will bring in,” Max argued.
“I have you. As a patron.” Stephen couldn’t help but smile a little, the warmth in his heart reaching out through the cold that surrounded him after what they’d just been through.
“As more than that,” Max said in a voice deep with emotion.
Stephen trusted him. It came as a shock that reached to the innermost parts of his heart. Perhaps giving in to what was growing in him where Max was concerned wouldn’t spell disaster this time. He threw caution to the wind and took Max’s hand.
For a moment, the look of devoted affection that came into Max’s eyes, illuminated by moonlight, shone through poignantly. All too soon, Max’s expression went grave.
“I have some of my money held independently of my family,” he said, “but I rely on them for a greater share of it. I would gladly turn my back on them and make what I can of myself with what I have, but if I did, that would put you and your girls in a precarious position.”
Stephen’s heart squeezed with alarm, making it difficult for him to breathe. Yes, he found himself outrageously attracted to Max, physically and emotionally, but they’d only just met in the grander scheme of things. And here Max was talking about throwing his entire life and his family aside? For what?
The possible answer to that question made Stephen dizzy with possibility and with fear. Things never ended well when one person gave up everything for another without truly knowing them.
“Of course, there may be other answers,” Max went on before Stephen could voice his concerns. “There’s always The Brotherhood.”
Stephen frowned, slowing his steps. “What do you mean?”
“They directed me to you,” Max said with a shrug. “Others may be eager to donate as well. In fact, there’s an event in a few days, a ball, of sorts.”
“A Brotherhood ball?” Stephen’s brow shot up. “With dancing?”
Max’s whole countenance changed as he smiled bashfully. “Yes, if you can believe it. I would relish the opportunity to dance with you.”
Stephen continued to gape at him, even as Max’s smile widened. “You want to dance with me at a ball hosted by The Brotherhood.” Stating it bluntly did nothing to make the possibility seem less surreal in his mind.
“Wouldn’t it be grand?” Max asked, tightening his hold on Stephen’s hand. “Say you’ll come with me. We could talk to some of the wealthier members of The Brotherhood about donating to the orphanage. If there’s enough interest, you might be able to skip Lady Bardess’s concert. Though I still think you should explore every avenue for funding.”
Stephen gaped and sputtered for a moment, trying to come up with a solid reason why he couldn’t possibly accompany Max to a ball consisting entirely of men like them. “I have nothing even remotely suitable to wear to a ball,” he argued.
“I’ll buy you a suit,” Max insisted.
Stephen widened his eyes at Max in partial offense and let go of his hand. “Is that how you want things to be between us?” His voice pitched high with indignation.
“I want us to enjoy each other’s company,” Max argued, a distinct pleading note to his voice. “And if that means me footing the bill for a silly old suit, then so be it.”
Stephen shook his head. “I’ve been around The Brotherhood enough to know that even though they admit men from all strata of society, it’s mostly well-born gentlemen. I would feel out of place.”
“You wouldn’t, I swear,” Max told him.
Stephen was running out of excuses. He had to admit, in his heart of hearts, the idea of attending such a unique ball with Max intrigued him.
“When did you say this ball was?” he asked with a defeated sigh.
“On Wednesday,” Max answered, beaming from ear to ear. “I’ll send a carriage around to pick you up at eight o’clock.”
“You don’t want to arrive with me?” Stephen’s heart did flips of joy and uncertainty in his chest.
“I’d rather surprise you once you get there,” Max answered with a wink.
One wink, and Stephen was sunk. “All right, then,” he said, feeling himself heat like a furnace. “I’ll go.”
“Excellent.” They had made it through the woods and were nearing the farmhouse. The girls had grown louder the farther away from the hous
e they got. But Max still took the risk of leaning in and kissing Stephen’s cheek. “You won’t regret this, I promise you.”
Chapter 7
“You look lovely.”
Stephen was unnerved to find Annie standing at the end of the hall, gazing at him as though he were Michelangelo’s David come to life, as he stepped out of his room, dressed to the nines. His bedroom was the only one on the ground floor, tucked at the back of the building next to the kitchen. In spite of that, the area saw little traffic, so it was startling to find Annie waiting for him with wide eyes and pink cheeks.
“Thank you,” he said, adjusting his spectacles, then tugging at the hem of the expensive suit jacket that had arrived by special courier for him that morning. “I feel rather like a dressed-up dancing bear.”
“Oh no.” Annie rushed to his side as he made his way up the side hall to the main hall. “You look as though you were born to wear clothes like that.” Her cheeks grew even pinker as she took in the details of his broad shoulders, trim waist, and everything else that the decidedly showy cut of his new suit had on display. Not to mention the cobalt blue cravat that he knew full well set off the blue in his eyes. The cut of the suit alone was enough to make him suspicious about what Max was up to.
No, it wasn’t, he told himself with a barely-concealed smirk. He knew exactly what Max was up to. What he wondered was whether he would abandon years’ worth of convictions about where his responsibilities lay for the chance to feel Max’s mouth on his again.
“One could argue that I was born to dress like this,” Stephen said in a wry voice as they turned the corner and headed for the front door. Several of the older girls who had not yet been sent to bed peeked out of the great hall and gaped at him as he passed. “My family is gentry, after all.”
“You’ve never told me that,” Annie said, looking at him with even more awe.
“I never tell anyone,” Stephen said with a sideways grin. “My father is a knight, much good though it ever did him. The family does well enough with our property in Wiltshire, but they disapprove of my choices in life.” Which was putting it lightly. All except the uncle who had left the orphanage to him upon his death. But then, Stephen had always expected he and his Uncle Dennis had more in common than the family let on.