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“I want you to send me home.”
Had Philippe at last come to his senses? Had he realized that a marriage between them was a terrible mistake? It seemed the only possible explanation.
Raine waited for the surge of relief that should surely be coming. This was what she wanted. What she had pleaded and begged for. There was no earthly reason not to feel overjoyed that soon she would be on her way home.
But what she felt was not relief.
In truth, she felt nothing at all. As if her heart had become suddenly and inexplicably numb.
Unaware of the passing time, Raine was at last startled out of her daze of shock by the approach of the gray-haired butler, who regarded her pale countenance with a hint of concern.
“May I assist you, Miss Wimbourne?”
Raine was about to send the servant on his way when she paused. She had to speak with Philippe. She had to know if he was, indeed, intent on setting her free. And if so…why.
He had been so adamant that she was to be his wife. So determined that she would belong to him. What could possibly have made him change his mind?
Conscious that the servant was patiently awaiting her response, Raine cleared her throat.
“Yes, I was seeking Mr. Gautier.”
“I fear he left early this morning to inspect his vineyards. He will not be returning until late.”
The breath was squeezed from her lungs at the casual words. Philippe intended to pack her off without even saying goodbye? Was he truly so indifferent to what had passed between them?
Hating herself for the horrid sense of loss that abruptly flowed though her, Raine clenched her hands together and swallowed the lump in her throat.
“Did he leave a message for me?”
“He requested that I give you this, miss.”
The butler reached beneath his jacket to remove a carefully folded parchment. With trembling hands Raine took the offered letter and opened it to discover that it was no message. Instead there was a bank draft for three thousand pounds tucked in the folds.
A hot surge of color stained her cheeks as she ducked her head to hide her shamed expression from the butler. It was bad enough to realize she had been callously given her parting payment like a common mistress, but Philippe could not even be bothered to deal with the trifling matter himself. Oh, no, he had left the embarrassing task to a servant to further humiliate her.
Just for a crazed moment, Raine trembled on the edge of shredding the filthy bank draft into a dozen pieces. She was not a whore and had no intention of being treated like one. Only common sense came to her rescue.
As much as she disliked the thought of giving in to Philippe’s attempt to shame her, she realized that she would have need of funds once she reached England. She could not simply return home on foot, no matter how her pride might rebel.
Keeping her head lowered, she clenched the bank draft in her trembling fingers and silently damned Philippe to the netherworld.
If he had desired revenge for her refusal to wed him, then he had certainly succeeded. She felt as soiled as any tart, and was wishing to God she had never, ever crossed paths with Philippe Gautier.
“Thank you,” she managed to choke out.
“Will that be all, miss?”
“No…wait,” she breathed in shattered tones, her hands reaching to fumble with the clasp of the necklace about her neck. The golden locket fell into her hand and she briefly gripped it tightly before forcing herself to hand it to the impassive servant. “This belongs to Philippe.”
The servant bowed. “I will see that it is returned to him.”
“And would you tell him…”
Her words trailed away as the servant gave a lift of his brows. “Yes?”
“Nothing.” She gave a shake of her head. “Nothing at all.”
UPSTAIRS IN HIS PRIVATE chambers, Philippe stood at his window and watched the carriage sweep down the tree-lined drive. Within the hour Raine would be safely stowed upon his ship bound for England. She would be out of his home out of his life and out of his thoughts.
