Paladin92
Philippe rummaged through his liquor cabinet and found nothing of interest. He sighed heavily, shut the door, and considered his options. He'd worked himself into sleepless irritation, which meant he could either read for a while or search for bourbon in Monsieur Belmont's home.
"Hell," he said under his breath as he reached for his overcoat. He glanced down the hall and saw that Sophia's door was closed. She'd played no part in his anger but he didn't want to see her until morning, especially after she'd been so curt with him. As with all women, he expected she would hold his outburst over his head until he was in his grave.
Once he stepped outside he saw the guest room light still on and furrowed his brow, wondering why his aunt was awake at such an hour. He winced, hoping she hadn't overheard him threatening the dog. She reminded him far too much of his mother, and the last person he wanted to confront before he had a stiff drink was his mother.
All he wanted was to sit back, relax, and relieve the tension he'd felt building since the moment he'd sat down with Sabine. What he wouldn't give to shake sense into that stubborn woman.
He grasped the doorknob and took a deep breath. "Please, for my sake, be asleep in your master's room," he said under his breath.
He opened the front door and found Aunt Anne waiting for him with her arms crossed.
"I would like to speak with you," she said.
He managed to refrain from sighing but knew his expression gave away his feelings. "Regarding?"
"Regarding your sister and her well-being."
His mouth opened and closed. He wondered if Sophia had told Aunt Anne of the incident with Karl Turro.
"There is nothing to discuss. I've done everything within my power to keep her happy," he answered as he walked past her and into the parlor where he knew the liquor cabinet was filled with scotch, gin, and bourbon. Monsieur Belmont drank only wine, and he indulged in that sparingly. Someone ought to enjoy it, he thought.
"Have you done everything?"
His hands clenched and he stood with his back to her, deciding it was better to pour himself a drink than answer outright.
"I didn't know," he muttered under his breath.
Aunt Anne made no reply. He poured himself a full glass of bourbon and drank most of it in one gulp. Heat pulsed through his veins but did nothing to improve his mood.
"If I had known," he continued. "I would have killed him."
"Excuse me?"
He refilled his glass and turned to face her. "What happened here I blame on myself, not Sophia. She should have never been placed in such an unpleasant situation." Other words to describe what Turro had done came to mind, but he couldn't bring himself to speak them in front of a lady.
"What happened?"
Philippe furrowed his brow, wondering exactly what Sophia had said. "Monsieur Turro…"
"Who?"
"Excuse me?"
"Who is Monsieur Turro?"
Philippe rubbed his forehead. "The bastard who attempted to abduct her."
His aunt gasped and placed her hand over her heart. "Why didn't you tell me?"
He took another sip and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's in the past now. Sophia wishes to forget it."
"Thank the good lord you were here for her. Oh, Philippe, your mother would be so proud of you for everything you've done for that girl."
He frowned, uncertain of whether he truly did hate himself or if the alcohol made him believe that he was a terrible and worthless brother. "I wasn't here for her."
Aunt Anne's lips parted. "Oh, no, was she…"
"Monsieur Belmont found her before it was too late," he blurted out. He stared at the rim of his glass and nodded. "He saved her…he saved her life, I think. If Turro had…" He couldn't bring himself to say, much less think, of what could have happened. "…She would not have survived past spring. It would have killed her spirit."
For a long while they stood in silence. Philippe wondered if he had betrayed his sister by informing their aunt, or if he had done what was right. He'd wanted his aunt to be near Sophia, knowing what she needed was another woman she could relate to since he couldn't provide for her in that way. But he'd forgotten how gruff his aunt could be, especially when she was worried. With her city in ruins, he hadn't considered that she would travel to the estate and want to govern everyone and everything—just as she did with the dancers.
"Is that why she is fond of Erik?" Aunt Anne blurted out.
Philippe studied her a moment. "She was fond of him before that," he answered. A smile touched the corners of his mouth as he realized how much happier she'd been since she started her piano lessons. Why hadn't he noticed before?
"Hmm."
He rolled his eyes. "What am I supposed to make of a 'hmm', Auntie?"
She shook her head. "I did not send her here to become a mistress," she answered.
He crossed his arms. "Do you honestly believe I would stand by and allow my own sister to become some man's…pleasure?"
"She is obviously no longer a child. She may be cunning."
He took another sip and stifled his frustration. "You have nothing to fear. Monsieur Belmont expressed that he wishes to release Sophia from employment."
"Because of her eye? How terrible."
He shook his head. "Her vision has nothing to do with his decision."
"He's merely tossing the two of you onto the street?"
"Hardly. I will take control of the orchards." At least he hoped the offer still stood, considering he'd threatened that precious, damned dog. "And when I am his partner, Sophia will no longer have duties in his household."
His aunt appeared undaunted and he wondered what she was searching for. The effects of alcohol suddenly made his eyes heavy and he yawned, needing sleep more than answers.
"And then what happens to Sophia?"
Philippe shrugged. Perhaps in the morning he would regret his words, but for the moment they felt right.
"That will be up to Sophia."
"She needs someone to care for her. Once she has lost her vision completely she will be unable to live alone. You must tell her to consider this, Philippe."
"She has not complained of her vision worsening."
"She's a prideful girl. She'll never ask for help."
"I understand that completely. However, I would be able to tell if she could no longer see, and she still has her sight."
She shrugged and Philippe knew there would be no convincing her. For whatever reason she had assumed the worst and no one would tell her otherwise.
"I assure you she will be in good hands." He returned the bottle to the cabinet and sighed.
"What if those hands—"
"Sleep well."