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In surprise? Doubt? Irritation?

She didn’t give two bleats of a lamb if she’d offended him.

With his superior air and vile accusation, he’d insulted her. Cast a mark upon her reputation that was not easily removed.

Removed?

Who was she kidding?

Women were ruined by accusations such as those. Never mind that there was no verity in his charge.

Sucking in an unsteady breath, she willed her voice not to wobble.

“I expect full repayment of my monies before I take my leave.”

Mercy had never been bold or demanding, but this insufferable bore had all but called her a whore. While he’d been doing God only knew what these past two months, she’d spent her entire savings taking care of his responsibilities.

“Naturally,” he rejoined smoothly and without hesitation. “I shall repay any monies you expended on behalf of the household as well as compensate you for your delinquent wages.”

Well, that was a small blessing, to be sure.

At least Mercy wouldn’t be wholly destitute.

“I also thank you for making such a sacrifice,” he murmured, his tone far kinder than it had been a minute before.

Though she could detect no sarcasm, Mercy eschewed responding.

Scorching tears stung her eyes at what this meant, and her heart cracked further.

She would not be with Bellamy and Arabelle. She would sooner cut out her own heart.

Neither would she have a coveted letter of recommendation.

Her future had suddenly turned very bleak, indeed.

Hands fisted at her sides, Mercy glared at Ronan, allowing all of the wrath she’d stifled toward him these many weeks to surface. This privileged rotter had just dashed her hopes of staying with Bellamy and Arabelle into a thousand tiny shards.

She feared she would shatter too.

How would she tell them they couldn't be together anymore?

That this stranger was taking them away from her, and they’d very likely never see one another again?

He sighed, his expression softening around his eyes and mouth. Swiping a hand through his pecan-brown locks, he pointed his gaze to the chair Mercy had just vacated.

“Please sit down, Miss Feathers.”

Though it wasn't really a request, lips pressed into two hard lines, she shook her head. She was on the verge of tears, and she’d be hanged if she gave him the satisfaction of weeping in front of him.

“I think not,” she snapped between stiff lips, not caring that she was impertinent.

What would his lordship do?

Dismiss her? That was already imminent.

“I shall take my leave and begin packing,” she said, already swiveling toward the door.

And seize a few more priceless hours with her precious charges before all of their lives were further devastated.