Just a Little Temptation Page 2

  He stepped around the desk, gesturing for Lord Hillsboro to precede him out of the room. The sound of the girls practicing in the great hall filled the entire school.

  “I love music,” Lord Hillsboro said as Stephen accompanied him upstairs to show him some of the dormitories. “I always have.”

  It was another point in the man’s favor.

  “The girls are practicing for a concert next week,” Stephen said, stopping at the top of the stairs. “We’re hoping to raise funds for some essential repairs. These are the dormitories.”

  He proceeded to give Lord Hillsboro a full tour of the upstairs, explaining how what little discipline his girls had was maintained and where most of them had come from. There were far too many orphans in that section of London, and because of the reputation for kindness that his orphanage had, there were always more girls in need of homes than Stephen had room to house.

  After touring the upstairs, they moved to the ground floor and the kitchen and laundry. Jerry held Stephen’s hand the entire time, perfectly content to tag along in silence.

  “Everyone takes a turn with cooking and chores,” he explained. “Even me.”

  “You cook?” Lord Hillsboro asked, seemingly charmed.

  “And do laundry,” Stephen added with a bashful laugh. “If everyone didn’t chip in, nothing would ever get done.”

  They made their way back to the great hall, where song practice had hit some sort of a lull.

  “Oh, Mr. Siddel.” Annie jumped up from the piano bench and dodged through the girls surrounding the piano—most of whom had continued to sing even after Annie stopped playing, though not necessarily the same song. “Mr. Siddel, something must be done.”

  Annie reached him, clasping his arm and staring up at him with the same moony look that the younger girls wore.

  Stephen squirmed inwardly even more than he usually did, highly conscious of Lord Hillsboro standing beside him. “What’s wrong now, Annie?”

  “It’s the piano, Mr. Siddel. Something must be done about it,” Annie said, standing far too close. “It’s out of tune, and I’m afraid one of the strings just snapped. Middle C at that.”

  “Oh, dear,” Stephen sighed.

  “We need the piano,” Annie appealed to him, batting her eyelashes. “How could we possibly fulfill your vision for an angelic girls’ choir without it?”

  Heat rose up Stephen’s neck. He peeked sideways at an amused Lord Hillsboro, then cleared his throat. “I’ll see what I can do. For now, let’s continue with rehearsal. The concert is next week.”

  “Yes, Mr. Siddel,” Annie said. She hesitated for one moment, gazing up at him, before scurrying back through the girls to the piano.

  As soon as she started playing again, Lord Hillsboro asked in a teasing voice, “Is she your wife?”

  Stephen burst out with embarrassed laughter. “No, not at all.” He faced Lord Hillsboro more fully and said with careful deliberateness, “I’m not the marrying type.”

  Recognition lit in Lord Hillsboro’s eyes, followed by an interest and warmth that sent Stephen’s pulse racing. “Is that so?” he asked. His lips twitched and his gaze dropped to Stephen’s mouth. “I would be more than happy to pay to have the piano repaired,” he said. “Or replaced entirely. In fact, I believe I would like to finance a great many repairs that I can see your establishment needs.”

  “Did The Brotherhood send you?” Stephen asked quietly.

  Before Lord Hillsboro could answer, there was a commotion in the front hallway, followed by a woman bellowing, “All right. Where is he?”

  Stephen and Lord Hillsboro turned almost in unison as a tall nun in a drab, black habit stormed into the room.

  Chapter 2

  Stephen Siddel was the most adorable creation Max had ever laid eyes on. Everything about the man exuded charm and sweetness, from his relaxed posture to his threadbare suit to the spectacles that framed his arresting, blue eyes. The way he interacted with the orphaned girls and Jerry warmed Max’s heart. It was clear that the children adored him, and with good reason. Stephen’s round face and gentle features made him seem younger than Max suspected he was.

  Stephen. He couldn’t possibly think of the man as Mr. Siddel or plain Siddel, like he would any other acquaintance. There was too much familiarity about the man, as if he were an instant friend to everyone he met. Or so Max thought until the nun charged into the great hall.

  “There you are,” the nun snapped, standing tall and looking down her long nose at tiny Jerry—who now pressed close to Stephen’s side as if hiding. “You are a wicked child for running away from your lessons.”

  Max’s brow flew up as the nun marched over to Stephen and grabbed one of Jerry’s hands. Jerry made a sound of protest as he was pulled away, but Stephen did nothing to stop the nun. Max considered intervening, but there was just enough kindness in the older woman’s pinched features to hold him back.

  “Sister Constance,” Stephen addressed the nun in a conciliatory tone. “You know that Jerry is welcome here whenever he wants to visit. The girls enjoy his company, as do I.”

  “I like Jerry,” one of the older girls interjected, inching closer to the confrontation.

  “We all do,” an older woman in plain clothes and an elaborate hairstyle added, stepping up to Stephen’s side. She crossed her arms and stared at Sister Constance with narrowed eyes.

  Max subtly shifted a hand to cover his mouth, as he was sorely tempted to laugh, or at least grin, at the scene. There was clearly no love lost between the older woman, who had taken sides with Stephen, and the nun.

  Sister Constance proved his suspicion by tilting her head up and sniffing. “I absolutely forbid any of the young souls in my charge to sully their souls by spending even a minute under the same roof as a woman like you, Mrs. Ross.”

  Mrs. Ross didn’t look impressed by the insult. “It’s a damn sight better than them being stuffed and starched and forced to stand in rows or kneel on stones to say fruitless prayers by the likes of you.”

  “Ungodly abomination,” Sister Constance hissed, pressing a hand to her heart.

  “Uptight bitch,” Mrs. Ross sneered in return.

  Several of the girls who had gathered around gasped at Mrs. Ross’s expletive and burst into giggles. Max had a hard time containing his mirth. Particularly since Stephen seemed to be enjoying the exchange on some level. He, too, had covered his mouth with one hand to hide an obvious grin. His eyes sparkled with humor behind his spectacles. Best of all, he shot a glance Max’s way that made him feel as though they were watching the comedy together. That moment of connection sent Max’s head spinning and his blood pulsing.

  “Mr. Siddel, will you stand here and allow your employees to speak to a servant of God in this way?” Sister Constance boomed, turning to Stephen.

  “Don’t you go waving your god at me,” Mrs. Ross countered before Stephen could answer. “What has He done for me lately? What has He done for any of these girls but set them down in a world that sees them as animals, simply because they are poor and female?”

  Max lowered his hand and stared at Mrs. Ross in surprise. She had a good point—one that hit rather close to home, when all was said and done. How many times had he wondered about God’s purpose in making him the way he was?

  “The poor will be with us always,” Sister Constance said, standing taller. “And womankind is made to atone for Eve’s sin.”

  “Balderdash,” Mrs. Ross huffed. “You should know better.”

  “I know that salvation comes through the Lord, not your arrogant insistence on your own superiority,” Sister Constance flung back at her.

  Mrs. Ross let out a sharp laugh and crossed her arms. “You think I’m the one who has always thought herself superior?”

  “Aren’t you?” Sister Constance fired back.

  Max glanced back and forth between the women as though watching a tennis match.

  “You’ve been a pain in my arse since we were girls,” Mrs. Ross sneered.<
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  “You only think that because Mama loved me more.”

  Max nearly choked on the sudden revelation, or rather, on the laughter the revelation sparked in him. No wonder Stephen looked so amused by the confrontation. “The two of you are sisters?” Max asked.

  “We were sisters,” Sister Constance said, her superior manner growing even more pronounced. “The only sisters I have now are my sisters in Christ.”

  “And I wouldn’t lay claim to sharing blood with her for all the tea in China,” Mrs. Ross said.

  Max was at a loss for words. He’d been told that Stephen Siddel’s orphanage was unique by the agent in The Brotherhood who had recommended the place as something he could invest his charitable inclinations in, but he’d had no idea he’d take to the place so instantly.

  Stephen cleared his throat, taking charge of the situation. “Again, Sister Constance, I apologize for luring Jerry away from his studies.”

  Max arched an eyebrow. As far as he could see, Stephen had no reason to apologize, nor had he lured anyone. The fact that he was willing to take the high road only raised Max’s estimation of his character.

  “You and the Sisters are doing important work,” Stephen went on.

  “Work which you are seeking to undermine, sir,” Sister Constance snarled.

  Stephen flinched in surprise, the expression making him look even younger. “I beg your pardon?” Hints of steel resolve were suddenly visible under the kindness of his outward expression. Hints that made Max grin all over again. Apparently, kindness was only one facet of Stephen Siddel’s character.

  “The Sisters of Perpetual Sorrow depend on the Bardess Mansion concert every year to raise funds,” Sister Constance went on, swaying closer to Stephen as if she could intimidate him. Indeed, Max suddenly realized that the nun was just as tall as Stephen, and Stephen was a few inches taller than him. “You and your ragamuffins have swept in and stole our potential funding.”

  Understanding seemed to dawn in Stephen’s expression and he relaxed by a hair. “My girls were invited to participate in the concert, Sister. I can assure you, I did not seek the event out from any malicious intent.”

  “I seriously doubt that,” Sister Constance said with a humorless laugh. “It would be just like her to try to undermine me at every turn.” She sent a seething glance to Mrs. Ross.

  “I know the Bardess family,” Max said, wary about cutting into the conversation, but eager to defend Stephen in every way. “They have buckets of money to give, as do their friends. I’m certain there is enough for everyone.”

  Sister Constance glanced to him as if noticing him for the first time. “And who, pray tell, are you?”

  “This is Lord Maxwell Hillsboro,” Stephen said, gesturing toward Max with a smile that made Max feel like the angel atop a Christmas tree. “He has come to investigate the orphanage as a potential donor.”

  Sister Constance studied Max as though he were an escapee from Bedlam. “You wish to give money to this den of misconduct?” she asked, incredulous.

  “In fact, I do.” Max glanced sideways at Stephen as though they were comrades on the same team sharing an old joke. He certainly felt like he’d known Stephen for years, even though they’d only just met. That feeling came as a surprise and a delight, and Max intended to grab hold of it and not let go. It was a rare and precious thing for him to feel so relaxed around anyone, let alone a stranger.

  Sister Constance huffed and shook her head. “Be it on your head then, my lord. But you should know that Mr. Siddel runs this establishment with appalling laxity. There isn’t a shred of discipline among his charges. They are wild and wicked, and none of them will ever amount to any good.”

  Around the edges of the confrontation, the girls who had gathered to watch the encounter gaped and squeaked in indignation, folding their arms and, in a few cases, stamping their feet or sticking their tongues out at the nun.

  “You see?” Sister Constance gestured to one of the girls sticking out her tongue—whose braid was black with ink on the end—as proof of her claims. “Wild beasts, all of them. And who is to blame for that?” She sent a pointed look to Stephen before turning it on Mrs. Ross.

  “The girls in my care are happy and healthy,” Stephen said, once again projecting kindness over iron-hard resolve. “My methods may be different than yours—”

  “To say the least,” Sister Constance snorted.

  “—but they are effective.” Stephen turned to Max. “I’ve been running this orphanage for ten years, and in all that time, every one of the girls who has reached an age where she can set out on her own has managed to find gainful employment, to stay honest and true, and to make more of herself than the lot that life handed to her.”

  “I’d say that’s a glowing sign of success,” Max said. He had a feeling anyone that spent more than a few minutes under Stephen’s care would come out wanting to make the world a better place, if only for him. Max himself already felt a deep compulsion to create a world of happiness worthy of the goodness that radiated from Stephen.

  Sister Constance shook her head. “Men,” she huffed. “You know nothing about raising children. They need discipline and God.”

  “Like we had?” Mrs. Ross drawled.

  “If we had been reared with rules and a respect for God, you wouldn’t have ended up making a living on your back,” Sister Constance hissed.

  “What does making a living on your back mean?” one of the girls asked.

  Stephen’s face went bright red, which did nothing to help Max keep his composure. Sister Constance seemed to remember that they had an audience. She, too, flushed and looked ashamed.

  “Never you mind, Betsy,” Mrs. Ross said. “It’s not something you’re going to do in any case.”

  “I’ll tell you later,” one of the older girls whispered to Betsy. The others instantly looked at her like she was their leader.

  “You will not,” Stephen said with firmness and affection. “In fact, I think after our lessons this afternoon we’ll all sit down and remind ourselves about good behavior and how we should be treating each other.” He looked especially at a short-haired girl who stood next to the girl whose braid was black on the end.

  Max spotted a pair of scissors in the short-haired girl’s hands. She raised them toward the other girl’s braid. He cleared his throat and stepped closer to her, holding out his hand. The short-haired girl was stunned at having been caught and dutifully handed the scissors to him. At the same time, she seemed impressed that he had noticed her mischief.

  “I think we’ve spent quite enough time here,” Sister Constance said, tugging Jerry—who had watched the entire confrontation in silence, holding Sister Constance’s hand with one hand and sucking his other thumb—closer and starting toward the door. “But don’t think that things are resolved between us, Mr. Siddel. We will discuss the concert later.”

  Max watched the woman leave. As soon as she was gone, the girls who had gathered to watch the scene disbursed, taking seats at the long tables in the center of the room, returning to the piano, or running as though they’d been given leave to play.

  “She always was a wet blanket,” Mrs. Ross grumbled, turning back toward the front of the room. She paused as she turned, eyeing Max up and down. “You’re a sight for these old eyes,” she said with a saucy grin. “Back in my heyday, I’d have eaten you for breakfast.”

  Max choked on a laugh as she sauntered off to the head table. He had no doubt that she’d meant her words literally.

  “My apologies for Mrs. Ross,” Stephen said, his cheeks as pink and his expression as embarrassed as ever. “She speaks her mind.”

  “I’ll say she does.” Max grinned, closing the distance between the two of them. “I found it rather refreshing.”

  “You did?” Stephen’s brow inched up in surprise. “People usually find Mrs. Ross to be a shock to the system.”

  Max shrugged. “Sometimes we need a shock to push us out of the ruts in our roads.”

&
nbsp; “And are you in a rut?” Stephen asked, a warmer quality entering his smile. “Is that why The Brotherhood directed you to our humble establishment?”

  Max heard all the layers of Stephen’s question and grinned. “To answer that, yes, The Brotherhood sent me. As I mentioned, I’m a boring, younger son intent on breaking away from an old, aristocratic family. I’m too low down on the list to end up with a seat in Lords, I’m not clever enough to enter the law, and I’m too wicked to consider the cloth.”

  Stephen’s eyes lit up at the suggestion of wickedness.

  Max went on with a shrug. “Neither am I the sort to be idle, though. Not like my brother, George. I must be active, and since I’ve had no luck at all finding a cause that interests me through the usual channels, I sought out the advice of The Brotherhood.” He paused, almost certain he knew which way the wind was blowing, but eager to be absolutely sure, before asking, “I take it you’re a member as well?”

  “I am,” Stephen answered with a smile that bored straight into Max’s core. “I have been for years. They’ve been exceptionally helpful in enabling me to keep the doors of this place open, both in terms of donations and legal advice.”

  Max’s smile widened. “Don’t tell me you’ve actually had the pleasure of doing business with Dandie & Wirth.”

  Stephen met his smile as though they suddenly shared a commonality that tied them together even more closely. “I have. Though it was quite some time ago. I doubt they’d remember me.”

  “They’re extraordinary, aren’t they?”

  “I’ve never met anyone like them,” Stephen said. The light in his eyes shifted slightly and he lowered his head just a bit. “Well, until now.”

  Max’s insides began to dance a jig. The last thing he’d expected to find himself doing when visiting an all-girls’ orphanage was flirting shamelessly with its owner and headmaster. He certainly wasn’t the type to engage in any sort of naughty behavior without thoroughly knowing a man, and only then in an absolutely private setting. But there was something about Stephen Siddel that tickled his fancy, and a few other things.