No Earls Allowed (The Survivors #2)(16)

“I can well believe it.”

Julia opened her mouth to assure him she really had been that bad, then realized what he’d said. “Sir, you are supposed to say that I was a perfect angel as a child.”

“I don’t believe that for a moment. If you were an angel, we wouldn’t be here today. You’re obviously stubborn and willful.”

“You say it as though those are bad traits.”

A hint of a smile touched his lips. “You’ll need both to keep this orphanage going. So far you need a new cook and a new teacher.”

She went back to her desk and lifted two letters. “I’ve written the advertisement for the cook and a letter to my former governess. I’ll post both as soon as Mr. Goring returns and can escort me.”

“Ah, the elusive Mr. Goring.” His gaze traveled to the cold hearth. “And what exactly does he do here? He obviously doesn’t cook or teach, do laundry or light fires. And considering the state of the building, he doesn’t make repairs either.”

All the warmth she’d felt for Wraxall earlier began to seep away. Who was he to challenge her? “Mr. Goring was actually quite industrious until a week or so ago. He told me his mother has been ill, and he’s had to leave to care for her. But he usually tells me when he leaves. Perhaps he told me and in all the chaos today I didn’t remember.”

Mr. Wraxall looked skeptical. “And I have a feeling I will find him in the closest gin house.”

“You don’t have much faith in people, do you?”

“Not since I came back from the war, no.” He held out his hand. “Give me the letters, and I’ll post them for you. I’ll find Goring and send him back too.”

“But I can’t ask you to do all that.”

He waved a hand. “Orders. I need you to stay where you are safe”—he looked around—“relatively safe and can keep the boys from destroying the place. I’ll be back in an hour. No more than two. I’ll bring supper.” He held out his hand, and she handed him the letters.

He started out of the parlor, and she followed him. “That’s very generous of you, sir, but I cannot possibly pay you for all you have done. I have limited resources at present.”

He didn’t even look at her as he started for the steps to the second floor. “I don’t want your blunt.”

She lifted her skirts and followed him up the steps. “So this is about following orders then?”

“For the most part.” He turned and began to ascend the next flight of stairs.

“Where are we going?”

“I told the boys I’d inspect the dormitory.”

“I can do that.”

He paused and looked over his shoulder at her. “I don’t think so.”

Her jaw dropped open as she watched his back. The man was certainly arrogant. She chased after him. “For your information, I am perfectly capable of ascertaining whether a bed is made and clothing articles put away.”

“I would be inclined to believe you, except I saw the state of the rooms earlier.”

“Yes, well, today has not been our finest. But I—”

His sharp whistle cut her off. It was so loud and shrill she actually flinched. When she opened her eyes again, he stood in the doorway of the older boys’ room. Eight of the twelve slept in here, and when she peered around Wraxall, she saw all eight scrambling to attention at the end of their beds. The room was as neat as a fresh coiffure. The beds were made, the trunks were closed and presumably full of clothing, and the floors and bedposts gleamed.

“Attention!” Wraxall ordered. Julia almost squared her shoulders. Instead, she stayed in the doorway as he marched through the center of the room. His gaze seemed to miss nothing. Not a pair of breeches forgotten under a bed, a trunk not perfectly aligned with a footboard, not the collection of dirty dishes hidden behind a curtain.

“You’ve earned your supper, lads, but not any dessert. Next time, if your work is exemplary, there will be ices.”

“Ices!” George said with a squeal. “I want ices!”

“There will be another inspection tomorrow. At ease.” And he strode out the door and right past her.

“You will be back tomorrow?” she asked, following him. Why should the prospect of seeing him again make her heart thump harder?

“It appears that way.” He stopped in front of the younger boys’ room. This time she was prepared for the whistle and plugged her ears. “Attention!”

The little boys scrambled to their places, Chester and Jimmy on one side and James and Charlie on the other. They stood at perfect attention, except Charlie who had his thumb in his mouth. Wraxall cleared his throat, and Charlie put his hand at his side.

Julia didn’t have to be in the army to see that this room would not meet Wraxall’s standards. The beds were poorly made, the trunks had items of clothing peeking out, and the dusty furniture had the occasional clean swipe as from a rag. Julia cringed. If Wraxall made these little ones cry, she would have his head.

But he moved inside, his head nodding. “Good job, men.”

“Is it good enough for a sweet?” asked little James.

“It’s good, but not that good.”

“Aw!” Chester and Jimmy groaned and sagged.

“Do you want me to show you what to do to earn a sweet tomorrow?”