No Earls Allowed (The Survivors #2)(7)
Robbie took the box and, with a quick smile she could not quite resist, ran off. The other boys followed, all but James, who was about five and as blond as a Dutchman. “Is the man coming back?” James asked in his sweet, high voice.
“I should think so,” she answered, tousling his pale hair affectionately. “And he’ll bring your breakfast with him. Are you hungry?”
“Yes, my lady!” He nodded vigorously. “Will you fix yourself before he returns, my lady?”
Julia raised her brows. “Fix myself?”
“Aye, my lady. You look a fright, and we’ll never find a father if you scare all the good ones away.”
Julia opened her mouth to reply, but she was saved from saying who knew what when James scampered away. She stared after him, her eyes burning for another reason. In the few weeks she’d been here, some of the younger boys had become quite affectionate with her, even mistakenly calling her Mama. Most of the time it was when they were sleepy or needed comfort from a scrape or tumble. She had thought it an innocent mistake, but was it? Had the boys begun to think of her as their mother, and were they, as James suggested, looking for her to find them a father?
She would happily mother them all as much as she could, but she had seen all of marriage and fathers she could ever want. And yet clearly a house full of boys needed a man to look up to. She didn’t even have a cook at present. Where would she find a man to guide a dozen orphans? How did one even advertise for a position like that?
Remembering James had said she looked a fright, she lifted one of the trays on the worktable. It was scratched and tarnished, but she could see well enough. Flour streaked her face and her coiffure was askew. She did look a fright. Normally, she wouldn’t have cared a whit, but normally she didn’t meet handsome strangers. Not that he had come to court her or any such foolishness. No, if her father had sent him, she had to consider him an enemy.
Still, she supposed it would not hurt to put her appearance to rights. And she would have done so if she hadn’t heard the yell and the crash and had to run up three flights of stairs, yelling, “What have you done now?”
Three
Neil found a man with a cart selling some sort of freshly baked pies. The food smelled decent enough to him, but as he had no intention of hauling two-dozen pies back to the St. Dismas Home for Wayward Youth, he paid the man to bring the cart to the building.
When they arrived at the servants’ entrance, he rapped on the kitchen door for a good three minutes to no avail. His father had said the earl wanted Lady Juliana to come home again and stop playing at her charity work. Neil had thought it would be a simple assignment—he’d be in and out. Apparently, he’d misjudged. So far, nothing about Lady Juliana had been simple. Least of all his reaction to her. He hadn’t expected her to be so…so damned delicious. Even the smattering of flour and dough on what must at one time have been an expensive dress couldn’t take away from the sensuality of her generous curves, the luster of her coppery hair, or the way her mouth turned up in just the barest hint of a smile.
He’d wanted to kiss that mouth to see if it was as soft as it looked. From the way she’d looked at him, Neil didn’t think she’d object to a kiss either.
Such thoughts weren’t like him. He might no longer be a soldier, but he still considered Lady Juliana a mission. One did not kiss missions—unless one was Rafe Beaumont.
And Neil thanked God daily he wasn’t Rafe Beaumont.
After another knock went unanswered, Neil supposed he would have to make the vendor drag the cart around to the front, but as he turned to give the directive, the kitchen door popped open. No one stood in the doorway, and when Neil leaned closer, he saw the latch was ineffective and the lock useless. Considering the look of the man Neil had encountered in the parlor earlier, he would have thought security a high priority for Lady Juliana. Anyone could walk in and steal from the orphans—or worse. And in Spitalfields, the or worse happened more often than not.
He’d made a mental list he’d titled Problems and Dangers Relating to St. Dismas Orphanage, and he planned to mention it to Lady Juliana at the first opportunity. Poor security would be at the top and the primary reason she should return to her father’s abode immediately. In the meantime, he gestured to the pie man. “Bring the pies in here and set them on this table.”
“Yes, guv.” The man went to work while Neil looked in the hallway for any sign of Lady Juliana. She was nowhere to be seen, but the raucous sound of boys’ laughter floated down from above. And then there was a thump and a cheer.
“Sounds like you got a full ’ouse, guv.”
Neil looked up at the ceiling as the next thump sounded, then he handed the man a pound. “Come back tomorrow, and there will be another just like it.”
The man’s eyes grew large as he stared at his bounty. “I’ll be ’ere, guv. You can count on Jacob, you can.” He walked as if in a daze out of the kitchen.
Neil shut the kitchen door and studied the broken bolt just as another thump shook the house. This time it was followed by the unmistakable sound of a woman’s voice. He’d have to leave the lock for later, so he shoved a heavy crate half-full of potatoes in front of the door and made his way through the building.
The building was large and, from what he could surmise, had probably once been the home of a well-to-do merchant. It was close to the large market in Spital Square that had operated there since King Charles II had granted its charter. But the building had not been the home of a prosperous merchant in some time. Neil knew little about fashionable furnishings, but everything he saw looked old fashioned and faded, like a painting left in the sunlight too long.