“My father sent me to the convent because it was my mother’s dying wish.”
“Did you enjoy your days among the good sisters?”
A small, reminiscent smile curved her lips. “Yes, I did. It could be stifling at times, but I took pleasure in being surrounded by friends.” Her smile widened. “I even enjoyed my studies.”
Philippe watched the play of emotion cross her pale face. There was a softening to her features that revealed her memories were pleasant ones. For once her guard was entirely lowered and Philippe forgot his dinner as he savored the small glimpse into her heart.
“I suppose you tormented your hapless teachers beyond bearing?” he prodded her to continue.
“Not at all. I wanted to learn.” She sipped her burgundy. “Unlike most of my companions I understood that I was being offered a gift rarely given to girls in my position. I never took my education for granted.”
Philippe could easily imagine her as an eager student. She possessed an innate intelligence and natural curiosity. The perfect combination for any scholar.
“So you were wise even at a young age.” He raised his glass in a small toast. “I commend you.”
She shrugged as she nibbled a stuffed mushroom. “I do not know if I was particularly wise, but I did consider the possibility of becoming a teacher.”
Philippe swallowed his instinctive denial. This woman wasted teaching a pack of ungrateful brats? It would have been a sin against nature.
Instead he regarded her with a faint curiosity. His experience had taught him that Miss Raine Wimbourne rarely allowed herself to be distracted when she set upon a goal. If she had truly desired to teach, then it was surprising that she had allowed anything to stand in her path.
“Why did you not?” he demanded.
“I thought—” she paused as if struggling against an unwelcome surge of emotion “—I thought my father would have need of me.”
Philippe frowned at the hint of sadness in her voice.
“Which he obviously did,” he said softly.
The thick sweep of her lashes lowered over her eyes. “Yes, well, not precisely in the manner I had expected. You see, he had become accustomed to living without me.”
“What do you mean?”
“He has Mrs. Stone to tend to his home and friends to keep him entertained.” Her lips thinned. “He is not quite certain what to do with me.”
Philippe’s fingers tightened on the stem of his glass until the fragile crystal threatened to break. By God, some day he was going to get his hands on Josiah Wimbourne and thrash him within an inch of his life.
His eyes narrowed. “And yet you desire to return to your father.”
“He is the only family that I have.”
“Is family so terribly important?”
Her lashes abruptly lifted to reveal a startled glance. “Of course. Without my father I would be utterly alone in the world.”
Philippe reached out to grasp her slender fingers, holding her gaze. “No, not alone.”
He heard her breath catch before she was tugging her fingers from his grasp and hiding her hands in her lap. Almost as if she feared his touch.
“Perhaps when I return home I shall consider teaching,” she said in a sudden rush. “The local vicar instructs a handful of boys in the area, I could do the same for the young girls. They have as much right as anyone to learn how to read and write.”
Philippe ground his teeth at her sharp retreat. Damn the woman. She would readily allow him to perform the most intimate caresses upon her body. He had taken her in every position possible. But the moment he threatened to slip past her defensive walls, she was scurrying away.
It should not trouble him. After all, he had what he wanted. Her willing body in his bed. But, it was not enough. Hell and damnation, it was never enough.
Rattled by the realization, Philippe instinctively slid behind his own aloof arrogance. If she wished to continue with the charade that she was his unwilling captive…then so be it.
“A worthy goal, but not one that will occur for some time, meu amor. At least not in England,” he said smoothly. “If you wish to share your knowledge with my servants, however, I will not stand in your path.”