No Earls Allowed (The Survivors #2)(55)

“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.