“His owner is a distracting wench. No doubt he is looking for a reprieve.”
“What’s a wench?”
“A wench is a—” he stopped. This was not something a man explained to his seven-year-old daughter, right? He adjusted just in time, “a term of endearment.”
“Then why do you call me pet and not wench?”
Christ above.
“Pet is an endearment for little girls while wench is an endearment for adult women.”
Abigail nodded. “I understand. So you will call me wench when I’m an adult?”
“No...” Deerhurst said slowly. “I shall always call you pet because you will always be a little girl in my eyes.”
“But I want to be called wench when I grow up!”
“That’s still a while away, pet. Let us talk about it then.”Let’s hope she forgets about it by then.
“All right!”
Deerhurst let out a breath of relief. Conversing with children was like struggling blindly down a garden path overgrown with prickly hedges.
The talk that Phaedra had had with the girls at the orphanage sprang to mind. She truly believed the girls, and by extension his daughter, could rise beyond the circumstances of their birth and find happiness.
That gave him more hope than she could ever possibly imagine. But it had to be their choice—something he’d not considered for his own daughter. He wanted to protect her all her life. All he wanted for her was to marry well and live a peaceful life. However, his wants and his daughter’s wants might not be the same.
It was a deuced uncomfortable thought, and not one he was fully ready to embrace just yet.
Mainly for his own peace of mind.
Deerhurst wasn’t sure he could handle anyone rejecting Abigail with much grace. In fact, he was quite sure he’d lose his bloody mind. In any event, there was more to consider than just this.
Abigail tugged his hair, a tender, playful gesture, and he let out a mock grunt. “What is the lady next door’s name?” she asked.
“Lady Phaedra Sharp.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
“It is.”
“Is she pretty like her name?”
“She is.”
“Is she going to live here as well?”
Everlasting hell.
He shifted his daughter into a better position on his lap. “No, pet. Why would you think that?”
“Her cat is already living here.”
“Puck is only visiting.” And stirring up trouble again.
“But if she lives here then I would be able to live here as well, right?”
A child’s logic... “How did you come to this conclusion?”
