Damien began, “I took my degree at Oxford.” “Oxford,” I repeated, daunted by the name. My lackadaisical governesses hadn’t so much as walked near it. “Don’t be too impressed,” he cautioned. “It wasn’t as glamorous as it sounds. Because my father was in trade, the students from good families looked down on me. The serious swots hated that I excelled without trying half as hard as them. The party boys didn’t appreciate my scorn for their self-indulgence, and pretty much everyone resented my deep pockets. “Basically, no one was fond of me. “I wish I could say this strengthened my character, but back then, when my pride was stung, I’d turn insufferable. I was arrogant, standoffish, and all too eager to win any competition that came my way. I cared more about coming first than I did about making enemies.” I disliked hearing him talk this way. “Surely the tutors valued your brilliant mind.” Damien shook his head ruefully. “I enjoyed showing them up as well.”
