“Deerhurst?”
He blinked, having missed her question. “I beg your pardon?”
She rose to her feet. “Are we leaving?”
“Not yet. I’ve sent a man after Saville for a brief on the situation.”
He shouldn’t have eavesdropped. He should have announced his presence the moment he realized they hadn’t heard him return. But he hadn’t. There had been something about watching Lady Phaedra interact with the girls that spoke to the very heart of him. He had found himself alight with all sorts of questions.
Would she speak to Abigail in the same gentle way? Would she be just as accepting? Would it be different if she discovered Abigail was his illegitimate daughter? Did she truly believe these girls—and by extension his little girl—could rise above the circumstances of their birth?
In truth, what Deerhurst actually wondered was if Phaedra believed these girls could be happy following their dreams, going against the grain of society.
Deerhurst was no fool. Bastard males were much more acceptable on the fringes of society than by-blow females. Most respectable men wanted respectable matches. The ones that didn’t... he wouldn’t even consider them.
Which was why Deerhurst had sent his daughter to his country estate as his ward, not his daughter—to protect her. Oh, Deerhurst knew Lady Phaedra would not condemn an innocent child. That much was clear after today. But this didn’t mean she would tolerate a bastard child in her life.
Deerhurst cursed.
What the devil was he thinking?
Abigail was one of the reasons he’d remained a bachelor, but not the only one. There was still her mother. The duke. The fact that Abigail resembled the duchess more and more each day.
And there was Phaedra herself.
“I am going to be a lady detective someday,” Evie piped up as she rushed to him.
Deerhurst caught her up in his arms. “What a terrifying prospect, pet. I feel sorry for all the criminals in London.”
“What would you like to be, Macy?” Deerhurst asked.
“I want to write adventure novels,” Macy said.
Dear Christ, what had Phaedra done?
“A grand idea,” Deerhurst went along.
“What of you, Maddie?” Phaedra asked.
“I still haven’t decided yet,” Maddie said.
Phaedra patted her head. “Take your time.”
“Girls,” Mrs. Plum poked her head through the door. “Come now, class is starting.”
The girls reluctantly said their goodbyes and hurried from the room after Mrs. Plum, but not before they extracted a promise from Lady Phaedra that she would visit again, who agreed without any hesitation.
“A lady detective, eh?” Deerhurst said when the girls left. He cocked one brow at Lady Phaedra.
“What? You don’t think a woman can become a detective? I have remarkable aim with a pistol, you know.”
“I do know. I’ve seen that firsthand,” Deerhurst said. “Being a detective requires a bit more than brandishing a pistol, however. Resources, for one.”
She smirked. “I have those as well.”
“Ah, yes. How else would you know about every last penniless man in London?”
“I’ve also read thousands of books on the topic of criminals. I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to spot one when he passes me.”
