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“You advertised an opening at Waldorf for a child?” Bennett asked, managing an unbelieving chuckle.
“She’s eighteen,” Brayden said.
Damian looked at his brother.
“I don’t believe it,” Bennett added, the humour suddenly disappearing.
“She is. I don’t refer to her as such; in this house she is ten years old,” he said.
Bennett looked back at Alice. She was petite and that was the only reason he hadn’t believed Brayden. That, and the dress code obviously pushed the point.
“How did she become your daughter?” Damian asked.
“I hadn’t planned that bit at all, but I found out rather quickly that she desperately needed a father. A proper one,” Brayden said, looking over as Wellesley began walking back toward them.
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