by Merry Farmer
“Remind me to thank the bloke who gave me your name,” he said, taking a risk and brushing Stephen’s arm lightly. “I think this is just the sort of place I’d like to become more involved with.” He raised his eyes to meet Stephen’s, making it as clear as possible that he wanted to become more involved with him. And why not? Stephen was a delight, and if Max was right, he was interested.
“The orphanage could use whatever help you’d like to give, my lord.” Stephen’s use of the title set Max’s teeth on edge. So did the fact that he stepped back slightly. Had he read the signals wrong?
“My friends call me Max,” he said.
“And am I your friend already?” The hope in Stephen’s eyes was sweet and irresistible.
“I think we’ve been friends for ages without even knowing it,” Max replied.
“It’s good to have friends,” Stephen said, then hesitated, glancing down to the floor. “Sometimes life feels very lonely.”
There was no mistaking his meaning. Life could be lonely for men like them. Which was why he felt so willing and eager to rush into temptation, knowing the dangers it presented.
“I have to go now,” he said, taking a reluctant step away. “But I’ll return soon.”
“You will?” Stephen looked both delighted and slightly wary at the prospect.
“Of course,” Max said. “I don’t intend simply to throw money at the orphanage. I’d like to be involved as well. I have two hands, after all, and they’re perfectly capable of hanging wallpaper—” he nodded at the wall, “—or repairing furniture or polishing floors.” They were good at a few other things as well, but time would tell whether he would get a chance to show those skills. “If you don’t mind,” he added quickly.
“Mind?” Stephen laughed. “I would be eternally grateful. We need all the help we can get.”
Max grinned. “You have that help in me, then. Until tomorrow.”
He winked, not trusting himself to reach out and shake Stephen’s hand in that moment. He had a feeling that if he touched Stephen, he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to leave. As it was, the temptation to rush headlong into Stephen Siddel’s life and his world was almost irresistible.
Chapter 3
Stephen felt the effects of Lord Hillsboro’s—or rather, Max’s—visit almost immediately. The very next day, an astounding cheque was delivered to the orphanage from Max’s bank along with a note: “It isn’t much, but it’s a start.”
In fact, it was more than a start. The orphanage hadn’t seen that large a donation in years. Stephen took the cheque immediately to his bank for deposit. On the way home from his errand, he stopped by a bakery to purchase four dozen sweet rolls and the haberdasher to buy several spools of ribbon. The frivolous expense was worth it for the sight of Jane tying a ribbon in her cropped hair and staring at her reflection in one of the dirty windows with joy instead of despair.
Max had made it all possible. He had put smiles on the faces of Stephen’s girls and ignited something far less innocent within Stephen. It was madness, but he couldn’t stop thinking of the man. He couldn't get the memory of Max’s mischievous eyes or his open nature out of his head. They barely knew each other. They hadn’t spent more than an hour in each other’s company. In spite of his protests, Max was of a higher station than Stephen could ever hope to be, though his own background was respectable enough. It was like Stephen had discovered for the first time how delightful it was to fancy someone.
Which terrified him. Having his head turned meant he wasn’t keeping both eyes on his girls. They were his responsibility, his life. Woeful past experience had taught him that if he didn’t pay single-minded attention to his charges, if he put himself first and indulged in a flirtation of his own, they could end up in danger. He would never be able to shake the memory of Alice who, at the tender age of fourteen, had found herself a beau while he was carrying on with a clerk who worked for a shipping company near the docks. Alice’s flirting with the young man on the street had turned to sneaking out at night. Clandestine visits had resulted in Alice getting with child at too young an age. She and the baby had died in a horrific birth that still woke him up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, even though it had happened eight years ago. He’d failed his girls once by putting himself first. He would never do it again.
Or so he’d thought until Maxwell Hillsboro had walked into his orphanage, all smiles and teasing, looking like Adonis reborn.
“You seem awfully sunny these days,” Annie commented as Stephen attempted to usher the girls from the great hall to the two classrooms at the back of the building for their daily lessons a few days after Max’s initial visit. “I haven’t seen you smile so much since that couple from Kent adopted Mary Louise.” She dodged around two girls racing down the hall, swaying closer to Stephen.
“It’s springtime,” Stephen said, sighing happily. “The sun is shining, the garden is starting to bloom, and we have a chance of financial security for a change.” Thanks to Max. Thanks to the orphanage’s handsome, endearing patron. But Annie didn’t need to know the real reason for his good mood.
Annie inched closer to him, batting her eyelashes as she glanced up at him. Her cheeks were pink and her brown eyes glowed with admiration. “I like to see you smile, Mr. Siddel. It does my heart good.”
Prickles of awkward warning broke out down Stephen’s back. He stepped away from Annie, pretending to be shooing the last of the girls coming out of the great hall along to the classrooms. “Life is better when we all smile,” he told her. “And security is a certain recipe for happiness.”
“I can think of other things that make people happy.” Annie followed him down the hall. She stopped too close by his side as he peered into the first classroom to make certain Miss Brooks—a former resident who had gone on to teacher’s college and who now worked for the orphanage as an instructor—had her class of younger students in hand.
Stephen’s smile turned uncomfortable as he turned his head to study Annie. “That’s the joyful thing about the world,” he said. “There are so many things that can bring us happiness. We have but to seek them out with an open heart and they will come to us.”
His mind and heart filled with Max—bringing joy and wariness—but right away he realized he’d said the wrong thing. Annie leaned closer to him, her eyes filling with stars as she pressed a hand to her heart.
“You’re so right, Mr. Siddel,” she said breathlessly.
Stephen cleared his throat and stepped away from her, ostensibly to check on the second classroom, where Mrs. Ross was settling the older girls into their lessons. It was his fault that Annie had the wrong end of the stick. He’d known almost from the start that she fancied him. Anyone with eyes could see it. It was also his fault that she persisted in her delusions that there could ever be anything between them. The practical voice in the back of Stephen’s head told him that Annie could be a perfect escape if anyone ever seriously questioned his nature and therefore his fitness to own and operate an orphanage. She’d marry him in a heartbeat if he needed her to. But the very thought made him sick with guilt. She had no idea how uninterested he was and would always be. He was reasonably certain she didn’t know men like him even existed.
“What do you have planned for this afternoon’s music lessons?” he asked, hoping to refocus her energy into something that would give her confidence instead of crushing her.
“Yes, I would like to know the same thing,” said an unfamiliar woman’s voice.
Stephen flinched and glanced down the hall to find a lady dressed to the nines in the latest fashions posed regally in the front hall. She looked utterly out of place in her butter yellow day dress, plumed hat, and diamond brooch as she stood between rows of ragged and threadbare coats hung on pegs on either side of the hall. Her haughty expression was at odds with the orphanage’s humble appearance as well.
Stephen broke away from Annie, striding down the hall to greet the woman. “Hello,” he said, feeling as awkward a
s he usually did when faced with a woman of the aristocracy. “I’m Stephen Siddel, owner of this establishment. And you are?”
“Lady Bardess,” the woman said, holding out a gloved hand as though offering Stephen alms.
Stephen adjusted his presentation to something more in line with what the woman probably expected, though his mouth twitched into a wry grin as he did so. He’d never cared much for titles or protocol, but years of depending on the generosity of the high and mighty had taught him to play the part.
“Lady Bardess, you honor us with your presence today,” he said, taking her hand and bowing over it. Immediately, he wondered what Max would think of his nearly comical show of deference.
He straightened, pushing that thought aside. Indulging in fantasies was a horrible way to run what amounted to a business.
“I have been warned that your ragged orphan girls are not the sort of entertainment I should include in my upcoming concert, Mr. Siddel,” Lady Bardess said, tilting her head up and sniffing at him. “I came to investigate whether that is true.”
Stephen managed to keep his benign smile in place even as he clenched his jaw in frustration. He pushed his spectacles farther up his nose as he stood straighter. “I would be delighted to give you a tour of the place to reassure you that you have been misinformed,” he said. Misinformed by Sister Constance, no doubt. Bless her, but the nun seemed intent on starting a war.
Lady Bardess tilted her chin up even higher. “Yes, I think a tour is necessary at this point. I am loath to bring dirty little urchins into my home.”
Sour dislike filled Stephen’s gut the way it did every time someone disparaged his girls. He had half a mind to cancel his girls’ participation in the concert then and there. With Max’s money, their needs were taken care of. But it would have been foolish to bite a hand he might need to feed his girls in the future.
“Right this way, my lady,” he said, pretending good cheer and command as he escorted Lady Bardess down the hall toward the classrooms. “The girls have just begun their lessons.”
Annie fell in by Stephen’s side as he and Lady Bardess passed where she stood. Her eyes were round with admiration for the fine lady, which made a nice change from her adoration of him.
“We are home and family for twenty-five girls between the ages of five and fifteen,” he explained, lowering his voice so as not to disturb the lessons. “Our establishment provides a home and education for those who have been cast off for various reasons. I am flattered to say that our reputation is such that small girls are often dropped at our doorstep in the middle of the night. And though we have limited facilities and cannot take them all in, we do our best to find homes for those we cannot keep and to take in as many as we are able to.”
As he spoke, it dawned on Stephen that, with Max’s donation, they might be able to purchase a few more beds and rescue a few more souls. That thought put a genuine smile on his face.
It stayed in place as Lady Bardess stepped into the classroom where Miss Brooks was teaching the youngest girls their letters. Lady Bardess paused inside the doorway, narrowing her eyes slightly as she studied the dozen or so girls seated in a circle on the floor with Miss Brooks at the front of the room.
“Why aren’t they at desks?” she asked, not bothering to lower her voice.
Miss Brooks and the girls paused their lesson to stare at Lady Bardess. The girls all gaped at Lady Bardess and her gown and hat.
Stephen cleared his throat, sending Miss Brooks a look that hinted for her to keep going as though they weren’t there. “We’ve found that the younger girls are more engaged by this intimate approach,” he said. “It is an educational experiment.”
Lady Bardess made a non-committal sound. She continued to stare pointedly at the girls. There was something veiled and vaguely eerie in the way she watched them. It unsettled Stephen, but he couldn’t tell why.
At last, Lady Bardess sniffed and turned to march into the hallway. “Just make certain they’re cleaned up and ready to perform at my home next week.”
She might have said more, but she was cut short as the front door opened and Max stumbled into the hall, arms laden with several paint cans. He had a canvas sack thrown over one shoulder from which the handles of paintbrushes stuck out.
“I knocked,” he said, out of breath, as he moved farther into the hall, turning to shut the door with his foot. “But no one answered.”
Stephen’s heart flipped in his chest and other parts of him stood up and took notice. “Let me help you with that.” He rushed forward, knowing full well he was grinning like a fool, and started taking paint cans from Max’s arms. “What is all this?” The act of shifting paint cans from Max to him caused the two of them to brush up against each other and touch in a dozen intriguing ways.
“I said I wanted to help with repairs,” Max said, helping to shift cans over to Stephen. Their eyes met for a moment and the air between them crackled with energy. For a heartbeat, neither moved, they simply gazed at each other. Then Max took another breath and launched into motion, stepping toward the entrance to the great hall. “I thought you would want to consult on wallpaper, but at least we could get started painting the wainscoting in here.”
“Lord Hillsboro?” Lady Bardess interrupted Max’s forward motion by stepping forward. Evidently, she startled him. Max jerked straight, nearly dropping the remaining paint cans in his arms. “I thought that was you,” Lady Bardess went on. Her entire countenance had changed to a fetching smile.
Max twisted to face her with movements that were both clumsy and endearing. “Lady Bardess,” he said, then attempted to bow graciously, in spite of his arms being full. “What a surprise to find you here.”
“I was just thinking the same, my lord.” Lady Bardess walked forward to meet Max with a sway in her steps that had the hair on the back of Stephen’s neck standing up. He refused to call the sting that made his smile turn brittle jealousy, though.
“I, um, I am a patron of Mr. Siddel’s brilliant establishment,” Max explained, glancing to Stephen for a moment before focusing on Lady Bardess once more. He seemed to notice his hands were still full. “Oh.” He glanced this way and that, finally pivoting toward the great hall and quickly setting the remaining paint cans and the canvas sack just inside the door.
Stephen marched past him, sending him a teasing smirk as he moved to set his paint cans against the wall with the others.
“I had no idea you were involved in the same sort of charities as I am.” Lady Bardess took thorough charge of the scene, striding regally past Max and into the great hall. The look she sent over her shoulder to Max ordered him to follow her.
Max exchanged a look with Stephen as he strode into the great hall. “Yes, well,” he fumbled. “I’ve no wish to simply sit on my inheritance and let it grow like grass under my feet.”
Lady Bardess laughed as though he’d said something far cleverer than he had. “You always were a charmer, Lord Hillsboro. And how is your esteemed father, Lord Eastleigh, these days?”
“Quite well, my lady.” Max clasped his hands behind his back. Stephen was impressed by the way he transformed from an approachable friend to a lord with as much of a stick up his arse as any other nob. Though the thought of anything up Max’s arse sent his thoughts flying to all the places they shouldn’t have been. “He’s enjoying the season as usual. My sister is marrying Lord Tyson in June, and the entire family is preparing for that.”
“So, your family will be connected to the Tysons now too?” Lady Bardess lit up, batting her eyelashes at Max. She laughed, sending Max a flirtatious look. “I dare say your family is one of the most well-connected in all of England.”
“Something that was certainly not my doing,” Max answered modestly. He managed to appear confident and fiercely masculine while deferring to a woman, which sent Stephen’s heart thumping.
Lady Bardess shifted her stance, stepping closer to Max. “I came here today to make certain Mr. Siddel’s waifs are prepared to si
ng at a concert I am hosting at my late husband’s mansion next week.” She put emphasis on the word “late”. “I do hope that you will be in attendance, my lord.” The way she raked Max with a look made Stephen clench his hands into fists behind his back.
Then again, he was certain his jealousy was for nothing. Max was no more interested in Lady Bardess than he was in Annie. The quick, sideways look Max sent him said as much.
All the same, Max smiled and answered, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Good.” Lady Bardess grinned from ear to ear. “Now, if you will excuse me, I am a busy and important woman with many more errands to run this morning. Good day, my lord.” She curtsied ever so slightly to Max before assuming her regal posture and walking out to the hall. The look she shot Stephen was as much an order for him to see her out as if it had been issued by a general.
Stephen strode forward, moving to hold the door for Lady Bardess. He said a gracious goodbye, which she more or less ignored as she marched to the carriage waiting just outside of the orphanage. As soon as she was gone, Stephen shut the door and shook his head, laughing.
“I had no idea you had a sweetheart,” he told Max with a lopsided grin as he reentered the great hall.
Max laughed. “God forbid.” He’d already turned and leaned over to pick up one of the paint cans. The movement gave Stephen a perfect view of the man’s astoundingly perfect backside. He had to take a breath to steady his mounting desire. He couldn’t afford to give in to madness.
“So. Painting the wainscoting, eh?” He forced himself to step away, to put as much distance as he could between Max and himself. It was like attempting to fight the pull of gravity.
“As I said the other day,” Max started, removing his jacket and crossing to drape it across the end of the closest table, “I don’t just want to throw money at a cause, I want to be involved.”
