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“I think it a splendid idea, Ronan. I’ve never held with forcing children to grieve for a full year. They need to move on. It’s much healthier, I think.”

“In that, we are of one mind,” Ronan murmured, gazing into her eyes in such a profound way that it was as if he stared into her very soul. Very deep within her, something clicked. She wasn’t sure if something had been released or locked. Nevertheless, whatever it was, she felt oddly emotional and moved.

To cover her confusion and awareness of him as a male rather than her employer, Mercy let her gaze linger on Arabelle and Bellamy.

“The girls are doing much better than I had dared to hope.” Feeling a bit chagrined, she peeked up at him through her lashes. “I confess, being their guardian suits you.”

Ronan quirked his mouth into a wholly masculine smile. “From you, Mercy, that is high praise indeed.”

The heat of a flush climbed her neck and cheeks. Having no fan, she waved her hand before her face. “My, but it is warm for March.”

“I think this weather is just a tease,” Ronan said, removing his hat and sweeping his hand over his glossy hair before replacing it. “Likely, in a week, the rains will come once more, and we’ll be drenched until April.”

He dipped his strong chin in greeting toward a passing couple when the man doffed his hat. The haughty lady swiftly veered her attention from Ronan’s scarred face. Her focus landed on Mercy, and her eyes narrowed, then narrowed further.

The gentleman at her side, attired in the first stare of fashion, peered disconcertingly at Mercy before bending his neck to hear something the stylish woman on his arm whispered frantically into his ear while gesturing wildly.

A tiny crease appeared between Ronan’s eyebrows before he returned his regard to Mercy.

“Mercy, forgive my prying. You said you were orphaned, but clearly you bear a marked resemblance to someone given my sister’s, mother’s, and Miss Knighton’s reaction.”

“I suspect the lady and gentleman who just passed by as well,” she murmured, sounding rather doleful. Her shoulders lifted as she inhaled deeply, then blew the breath out with a little puff of her lips.

“I do not know what it means,” she said honestly. “Perhaps they’ve mistaken me for someone else? I can tell you with certainty that I do not know if either of my parents are alive. I spent my childhood in an orphanage.”

That wasn’t all Haven House and Academy for the Enrichment of Young Women was, but the description was apt if not complete.

“I know Haven House and Academy for the Enrichment of Young Women is where you were raised and received an education,” he said kindly.

Instantly on her guard at the abrupt change of subject, she stiffened and drew back. “How, precisely, did you come by that information?”

“Your letter of recommendation was among Lieutenant Masterson’s papers.”

“Oh. Of course. How silly of me.” That made sense. Prepared for a battle, Mercy felt somewhat deflated. But in a good way. For heaven’s sake, she mustn’t act defensive, or that would raise Ronan’s suspicions.

Wait a moment.

That recommendation hadn’t included any information about Mercy’s childhood.

How did Ronan know she’d been raised there?

Dread slithered along her shoulders, cold and clammy.

Checking to see that the girls were still engaged elsewhere, she clasped her hands together atop her lap. The sorbet curdled in her stomach as she comprehended exactly what he was saying.

Ronan had been checking up on her.

He’d find nothing. Hester Shepherd was paid very well to ensure that.

“There was nothing in my letter of recommendation that mentioned where I was raised, your lordship.”

He gave her a sheepish grin, the movement pulling his scar slightly. She’d become so accustomed to the puckered flesh, she hardly noticed it any longer. For certain, Mercy didn’t believe it detracted from his good looks. What was more, he didn’t appear self-conscious or ashamed of it.

It was a war wound, after all.

Weren’t men boastful about such things?

“I had my father look into the establishment,” he admitted in that straightforward manner that both pleased and peeved.