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I had my father look into the establishment.

Mercy digested that bit of information. Anger wrestled with reason. Ronan had a right to know the background of the governess charged with educating his wards. On the other hand, she couldn’t help but feel his prying was something more.

“Why?” she asked bluntly.

“I should think it obvious,” he returned a trifle less amiable than the charming rogue of but seconds before. “I wanted to know as much as I can about the woman acting as my wards’ governess.” His expression hardened the merest bit, and the earlier twinkle in his eye was nowhere to be found. “I cannot think why you would object if you’ve nothing to hide.”

Was he accusing her again?

That rankled, causing her ire to rise, swift and intense.

Mercy had not yet forgiven him for practically calling her a whore and a liar. Was he also insinuating she had an insidious past? She’d wager her cross brooch his past was less saintly than hers.

If Ronan knew she was a bastard, would he dismiss her? Without reference?

Mercy’s indignation evaporated as a wave of fear, sharp and icy, buffeted her. Panic sprouted, capering along her veins.

Mrs. Shepherd wouldn’t reveal that truth. Surely she would not, for she knew what the repercussions would be to all of her current and former students, not to mention her own livelihood. The students' true origins at Haven House and Academy for the Enrichment of Young Women always remained ambiguous.

Clenching her hands, Mercy thrust her chin up. “I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

That was true. She had nothing whatsoever to do with the origins of her birth.

She couldn’t, however, vow that she had nothing to hide because she did.

Nevertheless, she would not be chagrined about her parentage. Mrs. Shepherd had insisted upon that. She made it clear from the moment her students were old enough to comprehend that they were not defective or flawed or responsible. They were victims of other peoples’ rash, imprudent, and unkind choices.

Regardless, they would not live their lives acting the victims. Feeling sorry for themselves, wallowing in self-pity, always blaming someone else for their situation, and never taking ownership of their own lives and circumstances.

That, Mrs. Shepherd said, was how the cowardly behaved. Her girls were intrepid and strong and courageous.

“Life is what you make of it, my dears. Give thanks in all circumstances,” Mrs. Shepherd had said. Which, in truth, was much easier to say than to actually have to put into practice.

“But you’re not really an orphan, are you?” Ronan uncrossed his legs and leaned nearer. “None of the girls raised at Haven House and Academy for the Enrichment of Young Women are, are they?”

Mercy felt the blood drain from her face and curled her toes into her boots until they cramped.

Why was he doing this?

If Ronan already had the answers, why torment her?

Dampening her lower lip with her tongue, and absently noticing he followed the movement with his avid gaze, she drew in a fortifying breath. Just as he had in the study, he was testing her. She was certain of it.

“I sincerely do not know whether I am or not.” That was true. Her parents might both very well be dead. And they might also be alive. “How does that have any bearing upon my qualifications or performance of my duties?”

Ronan shrugged casually and relaxed back into the squabs once more.

“I never said it did, Mercy. I honestly don’t care two farthings if you are illegitimate.”

At her slight gasp and furtive glance around, he frowned. He also swept his gaze about them.

“Forgive me,” he said in a more subdued tone. “That was not well done of me. It was insensitive and tactless.”

“The truth often is, my lord,” she snapped, her stiff form attesting to her humiliation and offense. She didn’t care if he knew the truth. Nevertheless, he’d never have spoken to a lady as he just had to her, which was a testament to how little he regarded her.

Why had Ronan chosen this public place for such a private conversation? It incensed and frustrated her to think he’d manipulated what was supposed to be a special outing to suit his agenda.

Thrumming his fingertips on the edge of the landau, he said, “What I do care about is how it will affect my wards.”