“Doesn’t that make them bad?” Evie asked.
Phaedra tilted her head thoughtfully. “Yes, you’re right. Men that are not well behaved are bad, bad men and should be avoided at all costs.”
“Mrs. Plum says good manners are everything,” Macy said.
“Mrs. Plum is very wise,” Deerhurst agreed. He cast his gaze at Phaedra. “You should also never venture out alone at night. You never know what scoundrels wait in the shadows.”
Phaedra arched a brow.
Evie nodded. “Mrs. Plum says good manners will bring you happiness and bad manners will bring you trouble.”
Deerhurst’s gaze still held Phaedra’s. “Just so.”
“Mrs. Plum is certainly right on that score,” Phaedra agreed as well, her eyes never leaving Deerhurst’s. Tiny thrills shot up his spine. “A woman must learn to defend herself well lest she be devoured by wolves.”
The girls giggled.
Then, Maddie said, “Then we must learn to defend ourselves. We don’t want to be caught by bad men.”
All the girls nodded.
“Interesting shelter,” Phaedra remarked. “I daresay no rogues will venture in here.”
“Come girls,” Mrs. Plum said when she returned a moment later, taking Maddie from Deerhurst and ushering the other girls from the room. “You can help me prepare some tea for our guests while they take a moment to catch their breath.
Deerhurst almost called them back, suddenly hesitant and uncertain of how to explain the girls or the home. Phaedra stared at him, waiting for him to collect his words, as though she sensed his struggle to gather his thoughts and weave them into a satisfactory sentence or two that would explain their presence here.
And she would be right.
“I didn’t think you to be such a philanthropist,” Phaedra spoke first, ever impatient.
“I’m not,” Deerhurst said. “One could say I happened upon this place by chance.”
“Howdidyou find this place?”
Deerhurst paused.
He had found this orphanage seven years ago on a freezing, rainy night, after having received word he had a child, and she had been abandoned here. A daughter conceived between him and the Duchess of Crane.
Deerhurst inwardly sighed.
That affair had nearly cost him everything.
But he had also gained so much.
Both a blessing and a curse. And a secret that could never be revealed to anyone. Deerhurst didn’t even want to imagine what might happen if the Duke of Crane ever discovered his daughter’s origin. No, he couldn’t afford to let the man find out—not ever. The duke was a powerful man—and a vengeful one. Vicious to all who betrayed him. He and his wife had that in common, Deerhurst supposed. If the maid who had brought Abigail to this orphanage hadn’t sent word to him, Deerhurst would still, to this day, not know he had a daughter.
He also dared not examine why he’d brought Phaedra here. Then again, he didn’t really need to, as the reason was at the forefront of his mind already. He wanted to show her not all men were like Cromby. But he also had a more selfish reason for bringing her here—he wanted her to see a different side ofhim. Even if just to ease some of the guilt in his heart. Just so that he could for a moment believe he wasn’t a bad man. A scoundrel. A beast. He had redeeming qualities as well.
He wanted to catch sight, no matter how briefly, of that version of himself reflected in her eyes. A good man. An honorable man. A knight.
Even though he would never be.
Just one glimpse would be enough.
“Welcome to Lawson Orphanage.”
Chapter Eight
