No Earls Allowed (The Survivors #2)(96)

Quickly, Neil made his way to the drainpipe, shimmied down, and when he stepped away, Juliana threw herself into his arms. “Say it now,” she said. “Please.”

“Can I at least free myself from the rats?”

“No.”

Truer words were never spoken. He’d never be free from these rats—or from her—and he liked that idea just fine. “I love you, Juliana,” he said, and kissed her.





Twenty-four


Neil said if she’d been born a man, she would have been a general. She’d marshaled her ragged army of boys out of Spitalfields, descending on her father’s house in Mayfair. The whole lot of them were dirty, tired, and hungry. When her father had come to the door, she’d said, “Hullo, Papa. I’m finally home!”

To his credit, St. Maur had only raised his eyebrows, gave a long-suffering sigh, and let them all in.

One by one, the boys had filed inside, mouths agog and necks craned to look at the soaring ceilings and winding marble stairs. The housekeeper and Mrs. Dunwitty, who were already acquainted, ushered the boys upstairs to be bathed and put to bed. In silence, the earl watched them file in until Neil walked through the door.

“Wait,” her father said, holding up a hand. The diminutive earl narrowed his perceptive, green eyes. “This is not an orphan.”

Neil bowed. “Forgive the intrusion, my lord. I wanted to see everyone safely settled.”

The earl leaned back on his heels, obviously surprised at Neil’s battered and bedraggled appearance. “Wraxall? But I thought you had completed your work at St. Dismas.”

“It’s Sunnybrooke, my lord,” Neil said before Julia could. “And I did complete my work there, but I haven’t completed my acquaintance with your daughter.”

Now the earl’s brows shot up. “With Julia?”

“I intend to marry Lady Juliana, my lord.”

Julia felt her entire body go numb. It was as though someone had just plunged her into a cold bath.

“Marry Julia?” The earl almost laughed. “I don’t think so.”

Neil stiffened. “Is it because I am a bastard, sir?”

“What? No! I only meant she wouldn’t agree to marry you or any man.”

“I’ll marry him,” Julia said, just managing to squeeze the words out of her paralyzed body.

“What?” her father said.

She kept her gaze on Neil, who didn’t look surprised in the least. “If he asks me.”

Neil gave a crooked smile. “With your permission, my lord?”

St. Maur could only nod, apparently struck speechless.

Neil took Julia’s ash-streaked hand in his own sooty one. “Will you marry me, my lady?”

“I think the better question, Mr. Wraxall, is will you marry me?”

“Come again?” her father said.

Neil just waited for her explanation.

“I come with a large retinue, sir. A teacher, a cook, and a dozen orphans.”

“Don’t forget the rats,” Neil said.

“I was just coming to them, and to the fact that we have nowhere to live. I fear your accommodations will be too small for all of us.”

He squeezed her hand. “Then we find new accommodations.”

“In a safer location,” the earl added.

“She’ll always be safe with me,” Neil said.

“And even more so if you use a portion of her dowry to build the orphanage—this Sunnybrooke—in a better area of Town.”

Neil raised a brow. “Dowry? I don’t know much about this dowry.”

Julia smiled. “There’s quite a lot you don’t know about me, Neil Wraxall.”

“Right now, all I want to know is whether you will consent to marry me.”

“I will, Mr. Wraxall.”

“Shall we ask the lads and the rats if they consent?”

She smiled. “The boys, yes. The rats’ opinions don’t concern me.”

From above came a loud cheer. Julia looked up to see the boys leaning over the stair banister above them. Robbie gave her a nod of his head while Billy crossed his arms and smiled. Charlie jumped up and down, yelling, “Yes! Yes!”

“I think we have our answer,” Neil said, then leaned down and kissed her in front of everyone.

*

Neil didn’t know why he should be nervous. Yes, he was a virgin on his wedding night, but wasn’t the bride supposed to be the nervous one? The groom was supposed to be eager.

And Neil was definitely eager. He’d been pacing Juliana’s bedchamber at her father’s house for the better part of an hour. He hadn’t been quite so nervous when he’d first come in here, but the longer he waited, the more his hands shook and his insides did loops and tumbles.

It had been two months since the fire—enough time to call the banns, for Juliana to ready her trousseau, and for the both of them to find a location and a building suitable for the new Sunnybrooke Home for Wayward Boys. The building had needed repairs and Neil had hired men to do the work, paying them from his own pocket. Juliana’s dowry was far more than he had ever imagined, but he wanted to feel ownership in the orphanage. Her dowry might pay for the boys’ upkeep and the monthly expenses, but he’d contributed to the building’s foundation.