“He does love those rats.” Charlie could spend hours petting the creatures and giving them morsels of food. “Thank you. Good night, Robbie.”
“Night.”
She closed the door and paused at the top of the steps. She would have to go down to the parlor to speak to Mr. Wraxall, and she wanted to put that off as long as possible. The old Julia would have looked forward to spending time with such a handsome man. The old Julia would have flirted with him. The old Julia would have suffered apoplexy at the thought of sleeping with rats. Now, she only forbid it because she feared Charlie might roll over in his sleep and crush the little animals. Rats were actually cleaner and more companionable than she had known.
That was only one of the things the new Julia knew that the old Julia couldn’t have fathomed.
She started down the steps, telling herself speaking with Mr. Wraxall was no hardship. He was quite pleasant to look upon and he had good manners, when he wasn’t ordering everyone about. He was thoughtful as well. He’d provided two meals for the boys today. In fact, dinner had been absolutely delicious. She couldn’t remember when she’d had such a tasty meal. But when she’d asked if the cook was looking for hire, he merely smiled and shook his head.
After dinner, he’d managed to organize the boys into washing, drying, and stacking teams. The dishes were clean and put away in far less time than ever before. He had a way of getting people to do what he wanted. He had a way of convincing her to do what he wanted. Look at what he’d done today. She’d planned to post the letters she’d written herself as soon as Goring returned, but Wraxall had held out his hand and she’d given them over without so much as a peep of protest.
How did she know he’d really posted the letters? It was no secret her father wanted her to give up the orphanage and come home. If she didn’t have a cook or a teacher for the children, then her father might go to the board and persuade them to remove funding if she did not accede to his wishes. Wraxall was only her father’s latest method to convince her she should return to Mayfair.
Well, Wraxall would have to return to her father in defeat. These boys needed her, and she would not abandon them. She would be the person to show them that there were good people, reliable people, in the world. She would be the person they could trust and count on.
She reached the parlor, and as the door was cracked, she spotted Wraxall inside. He sat at her desk…looking through her ledger book. Of all the nerve!
She shoved the door open. “What do you think you are doing, sir?”
He barely raised his eyes. “Looking through your accounts. Exactly how much of your own money have you contributed to the upkeep of St. Dismas?”
“It’s Sunnybrooke Home for Boys. I renamed it.”
He gave her a perplexed look. “Sunnybrooke?”
“I’ve asked Goring to repaint the sign.”
“Ah, that will cost more blunt. How much have you contributed again?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He glanced at the ledger. “Looks to be fifty pounds or more.”
“And?” She crossed to the desk and snatched the ledger away, slamming it shut. “It’s my coin.”
He studied her for a moment with those eyes that were far too pretty to belong to a man. “Pin money?” he asked. It was a logical assumption, as a woman of her station wouldn’t have any other means of income. “If you can spare fifty pounds, how much pin money does your father give you each month?”
“Not so much, but I preferred to save mine rather than spend it. I never needed for anything anyway.”
Neither had Harriett, but she had spent hers every month regardless.
He stood, and she realized the room suddenly felt smaller. She moved to the corner of the desk, trying to make room for him. Trying to put distance between them. Then she looked down at her hands where they clutched the ledger. If she didn’t look away, she’d end up staring at him like an infatuated schoolgirl.
“If you won’t return home, I will have to sleep here tonight,” he said.
“What?” Her gaze met his, and she forgot to be infatuated. “No, sir, you will most certainly not!”
“Yes, I will. My orders were to see you were safe and well.”
“And I am both.”
“You are not safe. I’ve done more inspecting while you were putting the boys to bed, and few of the windows and neither of the doors in this building are secure. Anyone could enter during the night and steal, commit murder, or attack you.”
Her cheeks heated because she knew by attack he meant rape. “I understand your concerns, Mr. Wraxall. I have my own concerns, which is why I employ Mr. Goring. As you saw at dinner, he has returned. I will lock my bedchamber door, as I do every night, and rely on Mr. Goring to keep us safe, as he has every night.”
“At least your bedchamber door has a solid lock.”
“You checked my bedchamber?” Her skin prickled with heat.
“I like to be thorough. And if your cheeks are pink because you left that scrap of lace on the floor, I assure you I was thinking only of my orders.” But his smile said otherwise.
He had seen her undergarments! Her cheeks were not simply pink but burning hot. “You, sir, are impertinent.”
He laughed. He actually laughed!
“I’ve been called far worse. I would rather be impertinent and see you safe than reverent and see you come to harm.”
She crossed her arms. “Lovely sentiments, but you cannot stay under my roof. We have no chaperone. I know it may seem to you that I am throwing my reputation to the wind, but I’d rather not have my neighbors mistake me for a woman of loose morals.” Mr. Slag’s face floated into her mind just then. No, she definitely did not want him to form any more ideas about her.
“I assure you I would prefer to sleep in my own bed tonight,” Wraxall said.
“Good. Then go home and sleep well. I shall see you out, sir.”
He shook his head. “I shall see you home. The only way I leave you here alone tonight is if you go to your father’s house.”
Her shoulders and her hopes fell. “Mr. Wraxall, I love my father. He and I have no quarrel. He supports my work at Sunnybrooke.” That was partly true. He did support her philanthropic endeavors, but he did not support her moving into the orphanage. “Nevertheless, the boys here need me. I cannot leave them.”
“Mr. Goring is here.”
She scoffed. “Mr. Goring is not to be relied upon. The last time I left him in charge, Mrs. Nesbit gave her notice. Not to mention Mr. Goring knows nothing about the needs of small children. What if Charlie wakes with a nightmare or James needs a drink of water?”
“You are not their mother.”
“I am the closest they have right now, and that is another reason you cannot stay. The more you are here, the more attached the boys will become. They need a father figure in their lives, but if that is not to be you, it’s best the boys do not become attached at all.”
Mr. Wraxall’s face seemed to have paled, and he made an odd sound in the back of his throat. “Me? Their father?”
“Father figure,” she clarified. “And yes, they could use one. The only men they see here are thieves and criminals. I’d like them to have a man with some morals to look up to.”
Wraxall seemed to shrink away from her. “I am not that man. I’m no father and certainly no model of good behavior.”
She frowned in disappointment but not surprise. She had known he would not want to become more involved. He was here temporarily, and as far as she was concerned, the more temporary, the better. “Then you should go home.”
He pressed his fingers to his eyes and then dragged his hands over his face. His jaw was lightly stubbled, now that it was the end of the day, and his hair was more tousled. “Madam, as I have already explained, I cannot go home if you do not.” He raised a hand before she could object. “And do not tell me you are already home. You know my meaning.”
“Then we are at an impasse,” she declared. “You cannot stay here, and I will not go home.”
“You forget I was a soldier. I have faced impasses before, and the way to resolve them is that one side must give ground.”