Robbie’s eyes passed directly over Walter. Again, Neil approved. Better to leave Walter with him. Robbie might be older, but he wouldn’t be able to control Walter. Robbie pointed to the chubby boy with the blond curls. “I’ll take George, Angus, James, and Billy.”
Neil noted them each in turn. Angus was five or six with red hair. James was blond and small enough to be the same age as Charlie. Billy was quiet and kept to himself. He was the tallest boy, though, and probably as old as Robbie.
“Dismissed,” Neil said. “I want that dormitory in perfect order in one hour.”
“Yes, sir!” Michael said with a backward salute.
Neil thought about smiling. Instead, he looked at his remaining troops. He had Walter, a.k.a. Trouble; Charlie, thumb in mouth; Chester, what’s-a-harlot; Jimmy, only about five as well; and two other boys who had been more or less pretending to be industrious.
“Who here can cook?”
Charlie’s thumb came out of his mouth as he raised his hand high. Neil rolled his eyes. “Charlie, you can be the assistant. Walter, can you cook?”
Walter didn’t look up from the spot he’d been sweeping for the past five minutes. “No.”
“That’s ‘no, sir.’ Get over here.”
Walter glared at him. “I just said I can’t cook.”
Neil glared back.
“Sir,” Walter added.
“Then this will be a lesson for you. Chester?”
The little boy looked up.
“You work with that one to wash the towels and dishes. What’s your name, lad?” Neil asked the boy with a black eye and shorn, brown hair.
“Ralph,” he snarled.
“Ralph, you and Chester wash.”
Ralph made a growling sound.
“Jimmy, you and…”
“I’m Sean, sir,” said the last boy, with a touch of Irish in his speech.
“Sean, you and Jimmy finish sweeping and mopping. Put all the dust and dirt in the rubbish bin.” Sean flashed him a smile, and Neil decided he liked Sean. Sean reminded him a bit of his friend Rafe Beaumont, who could charm any woman, and almost any man as well, with his smile.
“Now, Chef Walter and Assistant Charlie, we will be preparing tea and toast for Lady Juliana.” It wasn’t fancy, but Neil figured he and the boys could manage it. “First, find the kettle and fill it with water…”
A half hour and two burned pieces of toast later, Neil carried a tray of hot tea and perfectly browned and buttered toast to the parlor. The door was closed, and he balanced the tray on one arm before tapping lightly.
No answer. Neil didn’t wait and knock again. Between the miscreant he’d seen earlier, the missing manservant, and the lack of any real locks on the building, he feared the worst. He burst into the parlor then stopped short.
Lady Juliana was alone in the cold room, for the fire in the hearth had not been lit. She sat in what had once been a chair with rich blue upholstery at a small writing desk. Her head rested on the writing desk, one cheek pressed to several sheets of paper. One hand was thrown over the top of the desk and the other was tucked in her lap. The woman was breathing deeply, obviously sound asleep.
Neil placed the tray on the table set in the center of a small grouping of chairs and looked down at Lady Juliana. Her red-gold hair covered the papers she’d been looking at, papers filled with numbers. The orphanage’s accounts?
Oh, how Neil wished he could go back to the early hours of the morning and pretend he’d never received his father’s summons. If he’d known the sort of woman he would be dealing with, he would have found a way out of this mission. “Just take the gel home,” his father had said. Clearly, his father had not known Lady Juliana either.
He’d have to find another way to convince her to leave. Neil liked plans. He was the one who generally made them, and he told himself all he needed now was a very good plan.
And a little willpower.
Because with her eyes closed and her mouth relaxed, Lady Juliana looked perfectly lovely. He had the sudden desire to caress one pale-pink cheek, smooth that tousled hair off her forehead, and run his hands down her back.
And if he did any of that, she’d wake up and slap him. She was an earl’s daughter, and despite her current living situation, she was a lady. No lady wanted anything to do with a bastard. No, they married dukes, sons of viscounts, and foreign princes. They didn’t look at bastards, even those whose fathers were marquesses.
And somehow knowing his father’s station made the circumstances of Neil’s birth worse. Why couldn’t he have grown up the adopted son of a merchant or a farmer? He would never have had a glimpse into the world of the ton. He would never have had all the glittering wealth and beauty dangled before him only to be snatched away whenever anyone realized he was that son.
His father was a good man, but all that goodness hadn’t done Neil any favors.
He cleared his throat in an effort to wake Lady Juliana without touching her. When that didn’t work, he lifted the tray and set it down, rattling the teacup. She didn’t even move. Had the woman had any sleep of late? She was obviously exhausted.
Finally, he leaned close. “Lady Juliana?” he said.
She took a deep breath and continued sleeping.
“My lady?” he said a bit louder. He didn’t want to scare her, but he couldn’t let her continue to sleep. It would be time for dinner soon, and he had questions for her before he left for the night. “My lady,” he said a bit louder. He’d been surrounded by boys for the last hour, and she smelled nothing like boy. She smelled of freshly cut roses, a scent so light and pretty it reminded him of his father’s country estate on a spring morning. Perhaps it was the soap she used to clean her hair. He leaned a bit closer to sniff it, and she opened her dark eyes and looked at him.
He pulled back immediately, standing at strict attention.
“Oh!” She sat straight and blinked as though she didn’t know quite where she was. Then she lifted an arm and brushed the hair from her face. Neil could imagine her doing so when she first woke in the morning, and he had the sudden urge to be in her bed and see for himself. She’d changed out of her ball gown and now wore a muslin gown of yellow with reddish-pink flowers. The neckline was higher and the sleeves longer, so it didn’t show as much flesh.
Not that he’d been hoping to see any. He looked away and then, because she wasn’t Draven or Wellington, relaxed his posture.
“I apologize for startling you. The boys and I fixed you something to eat.”
“You… I’m sorry. What did you say?”
He moved to the side and indicated the tray. “We made you tea and toast. It’s not much, but I have limited resources.”
In fact, he wanted to speak to her about the lack of any foodstuffs in the larder. But first, she needed to eat.
She stared at the tray, and he wasn’t certain she’d heard anything he’d said. She rose slowly and stalked toward the tray as though she were a cat and it a dangerous, unidentified object. Finally, she stopped before the food and stared down at it. Then she looked up at him. “You made this?”
“Walter and Charlie made it. I supervised.”
“Walter? How did you convince Walter to do anything but sulk?” She put a hand to her heart. “What did you do to him?”
“Not what I would have done had he been about five years older.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “The boys are fine. The kitchen is clean, and I am on my way to inspect the dormitories.”
“You persuaded the boys to cook and clean?” She still hadn’t so much as lifted the teacup.
“In a manner of speaking. Do you plan to drink that tea before it becomes cold?”
She looked down at the tray as though seeing it for the first time. Then she lifted the teacup and tasted it. She nodded her approval and nibbled on the toast, licking a drop of butter from her plump bottom lip. Neil gritted his teeth.