Page 22 of A Love to Remember
“Oh, I don’t think so. She told me an old beau had come to town and she thought it would be too awkward for everyone. She did not wish to ruin Serena’s evening.”
An oldbeau? His hackles lifted although he had no right to be annoyed. “I thought she had an engagement with Kirkwood.” She might have mourned their relationship for a decent period before looking for another lover. Or had Kirkwood put pressure on her now that he had not come up to scratch?
Damn it all. Why was life so complicated?
“She does, but it won’t take all evening. Her beau…What’s his name?” She tapped her fingers as she thought. “Yes, that’s right. Lord Tremain. It’s Viscount Tremain.”
The stirring of the green-eyed monster in his belly took him by surprise. He had to work to keep his fists relaxed, to keep his jaw from clenching his teeth together. He knew all about Viscount Tremain. Tremain was the man who’d introduced Rose to passion.
“He’s in London for the Season.” Portia prattled on. “Rumor is he’s looking for a wife.”
Damn the man to hell and back. But there was no way he’d let his conniving little sister know how much the idea of Rose with Tremain hurt. “Then I wish him every success. Perhaps he’ll ask Rose. She now appears to be keen to remarry.”
Portia did not rise to his bait. Instead, she looked sad. “Perhaps he should. She would make a wonderful wife for any man—especially a man who is brave enough to declare his true feelings.” With that, Portia rose. “Then I shall see you at Serena’s in a few days—and I promise I’ll ensure the ladies do not ask you too many awkward questions. However, I should warn you that you won’t be very popular with the wives of the Libertine Scholars.”
When she’d left the room and shut the door behind her, he thumped his forehead on the desk a few times. Perhaps he should head back to Devon until this died away—but the image of Tremain in Rose’s bed put paid to that idea.
He stood and moved to look out the window. Giving up Rose was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. No, the second hardest. Burying Robert had been harder.
Robert. He had to keep the reason why he would never marry in focus. He was Cumberland. As the earl, his duty was to husband and increase the estate, and then hand it over to his heir in the best condition possible. His duty was to provide for his family. There was no place in his duty for selfish happiness. Not when his selfish desires and actions had such disastrous results.
While his heart wanted to steal Rose away, to keep her for himself, he could not in all conscience do so.
He pulled out his pocket watch. His mother would be home soon. He’d be wise to make himself scarce and leave for his club before she arrived. He’d have bet the best stallion in his stable that if Portia knew about the end of his affair, so would his mother.
As soon as he walked into the lounge at the club and saw Grayson sitting with Wyndall Herbert, Earl of Easterside—Rose’s elder brother—he sighed. Finding the two of them together was not a coincidence. They were hardly good friends.
Christ, he did not need this.
As he wove through the room to join them, he noticed many of his friends and acquaintances casting varying looks of pity and humor his way. It would appear news of the incident with Lady Abigail and his appearance alone at Lady Chillingworth’s ball had set tongues wagging.
“Blackwood.” He nodded to Grayson as he came up. “Easterside. Unusual to see you both here. I hope you’re well.”
“Take a seat, Cumberland,” was Wyndall’s terse response.
Grayson made to stand. “Perhaps I should leave you to talk in private.”
“Stay,” Wyndall demanded. “I may need a second.”
“Bloody hell.” Philip dropped into a chair and signaled to a servant to bring him a drink. “There is no need for that, Easterside.”
“I agree,” Grayson said. “Cumberland here is a crack shot.”
Wyndall ignored him. “That’s not the point. Most of society knows my feelings about my wayward sister, but I thought she had finally settled down. Perhaps was even considering an offer from you. Imagine my horror when I hear instead that not only did you end your connection but did it in such a way as to humiliate her in front of theton.I should call you out for that alone.”
By the time he’d finished his tirade, Wyndall was shaking with rage.
Philip kept his tone polite and careful. “I have already apologized to Her Grace for what happened at the ball—which was a result of a lack of attention on my part, and for which I deserve you to plant me a facer. But you are quite wrong that it was my decision to end the connection. I would not have done so. It was Rose’s choice. I’m simply abiding by the lady’s decision.”
That took the wind out of Wyndall’s sails. He was silent for a moment. “My apologies. It seems my sister is up to her old tricks. When the devil is Kirkwood going to stop letting her bamboozle him and make her see sense? Why have you not offered marriage? You need an heir and you are of age.”
Again his body reacted to the thought of Rose in another man’s arms, and his heart beat faster. “No one should be forced to marry when it’s not necessary. I am not ready.”
“You may have no need of marriage yet, but Rose has cultivated a reputation and I see nothing admirable regarding her behavior. She should think of the boy, of our family.” Wyndall glanced at Grayson, then back to Philip. “Your sister was a bit wild, but at least she had the sense to settle down with a fine man.”
Grayson drew himself up, eyes flashing. “Keep my wife out of this, if you please.”
“Funny,” Philip said, “I was about to say the same thing to you. Portia paid me a visit about an hour ago.”
