Alexandra

Chapter Eighteen

Eleven year old Richard Brown glowered as he watched the other children chatter excitedly around the Christmas tree. There were usually never presents, but some smarmy rich gudgeon had pitied the poor orphans enough to buy them all Christmas presents and ornaments to decorate the sorry place.

Mrs. Cree, who ran the orphanage, said that he was likely to adopt one of them, and Richard had scoffed. All do-gooders like he, especially the rich ones, were the same. They'd inspect the orphanage, talk to all the children, but still take home an infant because no one wanted a child they hadn't raised entirely themselves.

He had lost all hope of getting a home four years ago. The others still allowed themselves to get carried away by the thought, but not him. He was eleven, and no one in their right mind was willing to adopt him, much less this fancy earl or whatever he was.

"Don't you want to choose a present for yourself?" A voice asked over his shoulder, and Richard turned to find the rich man standing behind him, observing him in a way that made him put up his barriers. He seemed pleased with himself, as all of them always did, but he also seemed nicer than half of them. He actually appeared to think he was making a difference.

"No." Richard said shortly, before glaring downwards again, not willing to be drawn into whatever conversation Lord Whatever was brewing.

"Why?" He questioned, and Richard knew that he would not shut his gob until all his questions were answered.

"Because I don't believe in accepting presents from people who aren't going to be there tomorrow." He replied bluntly, praying that, finally, he might be left to his own devices.

"Prickly little soul, aren't you?" The man said teasingly before posing yet another question, "But what makes you think I will not be in your life tomorrow?"

"All of you lot are the same, innit?" Richard let out exasperatedly, a hint of the accent Mrs. Cree had tried so hard to make disappear slipping through. "You come looking for children to adopt, raise the hopes of everyone in here and leave with a little baby and letting the rest of us get our hopes dashed."

"Well, then you'll be glad to know I'm leaving soon but my eyes are on someone significantly older than a baby." He informed him, and Richard knew he was meant to ask who, so he did in the belief that the conversation would soon end.

"You." Came the shocking reply that made him blink twice and gape. He was suspicious because he wasn't daft enough not to be but, hard as he tried to suppress it, there was a part of him that flew with elation.

Maybe he had just gotten the best Christmas present of all.

*
"Why are there so many forks?" Richard asked with a scowl as he looked down at the neat row of gleaming silverware by his plate, confused as to why rich people needed that many. It was his first time eating at the table with the old man since he'd arrived at the enormous palace he called home the day before. "Can't you just use one?"

"Well, that's simply not done but I don't think I know why either." George, as the old man he'd since learned was a Duke had told him to call him, "But it's rather easy, you just work from the outside in."

Richard muttered something unseemly under his breath, but couldn't deny that he was somewhat fascinated by the concept of something so foreign such as this. At the orphanage, they were lucky to get bread with their broth, let alone have so many courses that they needed more than one set of cutlery.

The old man suddenly stood up, and Richard flinched back slightly, wondering if he was going to be punished for what he'd said. The Duke gave him a long, searching look before asking, "Did you think I was going to strike you?"