Page 32 of No Lady for the Lord

“After our tea, Miss Feathers, I should like a private word with you.”

Her winged eyebrows arched, but she nodded nonetheless. “Of course, my lord.”

Ronan couldn’t quite name the color of her hair or her slightly darker eyebrows. Her hair was a collection of golds, honeys, coppers, gingers, bronzes, and flaxen. He flexed his fingers against the urge to remove her hairpins, spread that mass around her shoulders, and run his hands through its luxurious length.

Miss Arabelle puckered her forehead. “Miss Mercy, why do you call Mister Ronan my lord?”

Miss Feathers’s bow-shaped lips formed a fond smile. “It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to address him by his given name. You and Bellamy are his wards…”

Her smile dimmed, and she glanced up, her soft green-eyed gaze asking a pregnant question.

Are you their guardian?

“I am, indeed,” Ronan affirmed, and relief flooded her eyes. “I have the documents to prove it too,” he said with what was meant as a mischievous wink but only earned him startled, widened eyes from the three females.

“As I was saying, Arabelle, you and Bellamy are his lordship’s wards and are of a higher social station than I am,” Miss Feathers said gently. “I would never presume to overstep the bounds and address a lord so familiarly. It isn’t done.”

“Why?” her brow still scrunched, Arabelle looked between Ronan and Miss Feathers. “You permit Bellamy and me to call you Miss Mercy when we should address you as Miss Feathers.”

“That’s because she’s been with us for five years and is part of our family, silly goose,” Bellamy announced, giving her sister a superior look. “Miss Mercy has only just met our new guardian, and he only knows her as our governess.”

Although Ronan didn’t think Bellamy had done so deliberately or meant any offense, clear lines had been drawn.

Mercy Feathers was family.

He, however, was not.

A look of consternation skimmed over Bellamy’s features, and her little hand crept toward Miss Feathers’s slim fingers. Without hesitation, Miss Feathers took the child's hand in her own.

“She’ll remain our governess, won’t she, your lordship?” Her voice quavered, and she bit her lower lip. Bellamy lowered her lashes but not before Ronan spied a sheen of moisture there.

She was the more cautious of the two sisters. It was only natural, as Bellamy was the elder that she’d want to protect her sister.

As Sanford has tried to protect you in his own way?

Sanford did mean well, but his own arrogance and conceit often impeded his efforts.

Arabelle thrust her lower lip out. Tears flooded her eyes and dribbled down her cheeks as she gazed frantically back and forth between Ronan and Miss Feathers.