He wanted to kiss that saucy mouth.
“I quite like your opinions.”
Her cheeks pinkened. “Well, I might not know much, but I do know it is not for us to say what is and what is not. All I know is that hope keeps the soul alive. If these children are to survive this world and the obstacles they will face, they will need plenty of it.”
He couldn’t help himself. He reached out to caress her cheek. “You give me hope.”
Her lips formed a perfectO, before she blinked and said, “Well, good. It seems you don’t need my tutelage on all the famous women in history and how they overcame obstacles.”
“Infamous women, you mean.”
“Incorrigible.”
Deerhurst thought back to the night they butchered the women on the list Avondale’s mother had put together for her son and was barely able to contain a wince. What if his daughter ever made such a list? No matter how he looked at it, they were all bastards.
“I am.” Deerhurst didn’t argue.
She looked out the window in thought. “My mother informed me of wagers going about town about heiresses and their dowries.”
Everything in him froze. Deerhurst could have sworn his heart had been gripped by an icy steel hand that squeezed and squeezed until he nearly choked for air.
“Do you know about them?” she asked, her gaze meeting his.
“Wagers,” he evaded. “I have not heard about any wagers in particular, but that would explain your string of suitors.”
Deerhurst could practically feel the shovel breaking ground on his soon-to-be grave. He was going straight to the bowels of hell.
No detours.
She nodded. “Well, if you do hear anything, please tell me. I must get to the bottom of this.”
“Did your mother mention anything else about the wagers?”
She shook her head. “Only that I should be careful. Luckily, I’ve got you.” She tilted her head. “And that crazy friend of yours.”
Deerhurst would have laughed if he could get a sound past the back of his throat. He’d never been a good liar. But he’d always been an excellent evader.
If only she knew.
If only...
Now is your chance to tell her.
He let the idea slip from his mind as she wandered over to the drapes and peered through the window onto the street. Deerhurst felt certain he would quickly greet the end of her pistol if she learned the truth. And he wanted—needed—to stay close.
He just wasn’t sure whether this need was because of the wagers or something else.
Her.
Chapter Nine
The library wasone of Phaedra’s favorite places in her home. It was also the most peaceful. She could get lost in the scent of books and the solitude of the room. Sometimes she would merely sit on one of the settees and stare at the books until she swore she could hear the whispers of all the stories contained within each binding. Those times, when her imagination was at peak performance and the library burst into a thousand voices, time would both stop and fly at the same time.
Today, however, time seemed to crawl at a pace that both annoyed and called attention to the fact that Phaedra could not get Deerhurst from her mind.
He was stuck there.
For better or for worse.
