The Defiant Wife (The Three Mrs #2) - Jess Michaels Page 0,41

boy to watch us argue,” he said softly.

“Is that what we’re about to do? Argue?” Pippa asked, though she already knew the answer to the question.

He took a long step toward her. “You implied that I would keep that child from an education in order to protect myself. Yes, I think we’re going to argue.”

“Isn’t that what you’re suggesting?” she asked. “A bright boy of a certain class goes to Eton.”

“Very true,” Rhys said. “Even those without means are sometimes given scholarships and join the ranks of their ‘betters’.”

“Then why deny your nephew the same opportunity?”

“How were you educated, Phillipa?” he asked.

She clenched her hands before her, trying not to view the question as an attack. “I-I had tutors, both generally and in specific subjects like dancing and comportment. I was educated to land a husband above my station. I learned a great deal from reading and asking what my parents labeled impertinent questions.”

“Girls are not often sent away to school,” he said softly. “Let me tell you that places like Eton can be hellish. Everyone knows who is there on charity or has a complicated past. Some of them thrive, yes, because they’re likeable. Others are…tormented by bullies. So when I contemplate keeping Kenley from education outside of his own home, that is why.”

The way he pursed his lips, the way his cheek twitched, it all made Pippa wonder what he had endured at Eton. But this was about Kenley, not the man before her. She shifted with discomfort. “I…I suppose I hadn’t thought about what he might endure with his parentage and the scandals surrounding him. Do you really think that would come out?”

“Yes,” Rhys said simply. “I absolutely do. Society works that way, and you know it after so many years of observation. Knowledge is power. Someone will put the pieces together.”

She sighed. “It is a valid argument and I apologize for implying you had self-preservation as a reason for denying him. But please understand that good intentions or not, you would be denying him.”

“Phillipa.” He ran a hand through his hair as he at last shoved off the door and stalked to the window. She could see his upset in the way he shifted his weight, the way he fisted his hands open then closed at his side.

And yet she couldn’t stop or comfort him. She had to plow on. “I want to see Kenley thrive and I know you do too. You’ve shown me not only in words, but in actions that you care about his future.”

“I do,” he admitted, seemingly through clenched teeth.

“Then consider, Rhys, will isolating him do that? A boy like him will not belong either in lower society or high, unless he is allowed to mingle in one or the other before he comes out into the world. Hiding him away in the countryside, it won’t protect him. It will shelter him, and I assure you that those are two very different things.”

She could see the wheels of his mind turning, and he bent to pick up one of the blocks that Kenley had tossed at some point during his playtime. He held it in his palm, staring at it like it might have the answers.

At last he sighed. “You are, of course, correct. In my hurry to protect him, I suppose my plans would be more likely to harm him. Which means they must change. There is a solution, so let me suggest it and see what you think, because it will affect you as much as the boy.”

“What is that?” she asked.

“Come to London.” He held her stare evenly. “All of you come to London and live there.”

Chapter 12

The only sound that escaped Phillipa’s lips as she stared at Rhys was a squeak. Not a word, not a witty rejoinder, just a squeak.

He arched a brow in surprise. “I have shocked you into silence. That is something.”

“You have,” she admitted with what seemed like great difficulty. “I almost cannot fathom what you are saying.”

“Should I say it again, then?” he pressed. “Phillipa, will you come to London with Kenley?”

“So you go from hiding him away to parading him in public?” she asked.

“Not parading, certainly. But if the connection between us is bound to come out, then why not establish it from the very start?” He looked at the block in his hand, thought of the tiny fingers that had held it. Thought of the way that sweet child stared at him, smiled at him. “I would like to be