No Earls Allowed (The Survivors #2)(31)

There was a chorus of “Yes, my lady,” and then she shuttled the little boys upstairs again. Wraxall was right behind her.

“What the devil is this?” he asked.

“Sir, watch your language around the children.”

The little boys giggled as she herded them into their room and pulled the curtains closed. The room was already dark, but this made it feel cozier. “Off with your shoes, boys. Then climb under the covers.”

Wraxall stood in the doorway. “What the deuce is this?”

“Nap time,” she answered.

“No, I meant with the buckets and pots and pans.”

“That’s to catch the water,” Jimmy told him, hopping into bed. “Don’t forget our bucket, my lady.”

“I won’t.” She tugged it from the corner and placed it between Chester and James’s beds, where water had already begun to leak from the roof.

“Do you mean to tell me the roof leaks?” Wraxall asked.

“I hadn’t intended to tell you at all, but I suppose it’s quite apparent now. We have plenty of buckets to deal with the leaks.”

“If we use the pots and pans too,” James said. “But that doesn’t work so well when it’s dinnertime.”

“Shh.” Julia placed a kiss on James’s forehead then went to Jimmy and Charlie. Chester was taking his time. “Chester, nap time.”

“I’m not tired.” He yawned. “That wasn’t a yawn. I was stretching my mouth.”

“You don’t have to sleep,” Julia told him, pulling back the blanket on his bed. “Just rest. I will come and get you up in an hour.”

“Major doesn’t need to rest.”

Julia glanced at Wraxall. Now was the time for him to either help her cause or hurt it. If he hurt it, she would be plagued by tired, cranky boys all evening.

“Actually,” Wraxall said, “I think Lady Juliana makes a good suggestion. We should all rest, and when you wake, we’ll be refreshed and ready to begin anew.”

“So you won’t work on the steps without us?” Chester asked.

Clearly Wraxall hadn’t anticipated having to make that sort of promise. Julia raised her brows. He sighed. “No. We will wait until nap time is through. You’ll miss nothing.”

“Promise?” Charlie asked sleepily.

“I do.”

“My parents promised to come back for me,” Jimmy said. “But they still haven’t.”

Julia sighed. Her heart broke for Jimmy, who couldn’t possibly understand that his parents either could not come for him or did not have the money to support him if they did. These poor children had learned not to trust adults. She’d been steadily earning their trust, but they hadn’t chosen to test her now. They’d chosen Mr. Wraxall.

She looked at the major, not certain whether to interrupt or let him answer. For a long moment he stood uncertainly in the doorway, then he strode into the room and went to Jimmy’s bed, sitting on the side. “When I make a promise, I keep it. No work will be done on the house while you rest. I’m certain your parents will keep their promise too. They are in a difficult situation. Give them time, and they will come for you.”

He brushed the boy’s dark hair back from his forehead. “Sleep now.” He looked at the other three boys. “That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison, though Charlie’s reply was garbled as his thumb was already in his mouth.

Julia stepped outside and closed the door when Wraxall followed her. “Thank you,” she said. “I know you meant what you said, and it’s so important to the children that they have adults in their life they can count on.”

He had moved away from the room and closer to her bedchamber. Though the little ones could likely not hear, she had lowered her voice as she followed him.

“I agree. That’s why I’m surprised you haven’t done more to show them they can count on you.”

Julia glared at him. “What precisely do you mean by that, sir?”

“I mean that you have them living in a place where they aren’t safe. What will you tell them when someone breaks in and hurts one of them or you?”

“I don’t have to worry about that anymore. You have fixed the locks.”

His light eyes bored into her. “Then what will you tell them when the roof collapses on their heads?”

“I’ve asked the board of directors for more funds and instructed Mr. Goring to begin work on it.”

“The same Mr. Goring who sits at Slag’s alehouse all day?”

Oh yes. She’d forgotten she would have to let the servant go. “I’ll hire another manservant then.”

“And how will you be certain he isn’t also in Slag’s pocket? That man wants you. You won’t be safe until he’s dealt with.”

“Yes, well, I’m certain half the residents of Spitalfields wish he would be, as you say, ‘dealt with,’ but so far we are not so lucky.” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “In any case, it is not your concern. We had an agreement. You would leave at the end of the day. I expect you to keep your word to me.”

He gave her a long look. “You know I can’t do that. There’s the ball tonight.”