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ndmother still resides in Devonshire.”
“And your mother?”
Something flared through his cold green eyes. “French.”
Her frown deepened. “And yet you speak Portuguese?”
“I have spent most of my life in Madeira, although I do try to spend at least a few months each year in London.”
Good Lord, his life seemed complicated. “Which explains your town house.”
“Yes.”
“I suppose you also possess a home in Paris?” she continued dryly.
If possible his expression became even more glacial. “I possess several homes and estates, but none in France.”
“What a grave disappointment that must be for you.”
He shrugged. “Not at all.”
Raine made a rude noise. How casually he spoke of his various homes and estates. As if they were mere trifles that were due a man of his rank.
Of course, men with his arrogance simply took for granted that they should be blessed with such fortune.
“God, but I hate your sort,” she said before wisdom could halt the impulsive words.
There was a startled pause before he gave a lift of his brows. “My sort?”
If she had a trace of sense she would shut her lips and not say another word. The Lord knew that she was in enough trouble as it was. But, she was goaded beyond bearing by the taunting glint in those blasted green eyes.
“Men who believe that because they have a bit of wealth and social position they can go about treating others as if they are no more than rubbish.”
If she thought to wound him then she was doomed to disappointment. Her sharp words did nothing more than bring a smile to his lips.
“Well, that is the point of having wealth and social position, is it not?”
“I haven’t the faintest notion,” she hissed.
“Ah, but I believe there is more to you than meets the eye, Miss Wimbourne. Common sailors’ daughters do not possess your polished accent, nor do they speak the several languages you claim to know. Could it be you still have not told me the truth?”
Raine frowned, not quite certain how he had so efficiently turned the conversation back on her.
“I was educated in a French convent. I only recently returned to England.”
“And why would a sailor’s daughter be schooled in a French convent?”
She tilted her chin at the edge of mockery in his tone. “My mother was the daughter of a successful French sea captain, and it was her wish that I be sent to the same convent that she attended.”
“She is no longer alive?”
“No, she died when I was just a child.”
“As did mine,” he murmured, his voice so low she barely heard the words. Raine stilled as his expression softened with what might have been sorrow, but before she could speak the taunting smile was back with a vengeance. “I suppose it must be difficult for you?”
“Sharing a carriage with you? Yes, extraordinarily difficult.”
His gaze flicked over her with a callous assessment. “I meant being trapped among the rustics. You must be a shimmering diamond among the dross. Such beauty and elegance. Do the local farmers and tradesmen come to worship at your feet?”
