Page 23 of A Love to Remember
“Did she?” Grayson grimaced. “What did you expect when you upset her best friend?”
He could hardly refute that.
Wyndall stood. “Well, I’ve said my piece. Thank you for your candor. I shall have a word with Kirkwood. It’s about time my sister changed her ways. The next man she chooses will be a husband. Good day, gentlemen.”
With that, Wyndall took his leave.
When he was gone, Philip let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.
“Not quite the truth, was it?”
Philip glanced over at Grayson. “I did offer to continue our affair.”
“But she was prepared to marry, and marry you. That’s quite a concession from the woman who for over five years has refused all offers.” Grayson rolled his brandy balloon thoughtfully between his fingers. “I thought you’d jump at the chance.”
“Did you?” He grimaced at his friend’s raised eyebrow. “I’m not the only man to want to avoid the parson’s mousetrap. When we rescued Portia from Egypt you swore black-and-blue she was not the woman for you.”
Grayson grinned. “Touché. You’ll know when you know. But a word of warning, my friend. Be careful that you don’t wake up one day and find you have let the most important person in your life slip away. Women like your sister and Rose, have many options.”
“Like Tremain?” He hadn’t meant to say the name, but Grayson knew everyone in the city. “Did you know Tremain is back in London?”
Grayson’s brows jerked up and almost immediately dipped into a glower. “No. I didn’t. I’m amazed he has the balls to show his face. The word is he’s gambled away everything his father left him and was chased out of France because of his debts. I suspect he’s only here because he’s on the lookout for a wealthy wife.”
So did Philip. “I thought you’d have heard. It was Portia who told me he was back and paying court to Rose. And, what’s more, she took a great deal of pleasure in telling me.”
Grayson cursed under his breath. “I know what she’s up to. She did this to me with Maitland. And it bloody worked. I wanted to beat my oldest friend black-and-blue.”
Philip understood the sentiment. “I’d have no problem beating Tremain black-and-blue for what he did to Lady Claire all those years ago. If he tries to destroy Rose, I’ll—”
“What?” Grayson growled. “You’ll do what? She is no longer yours to defend.”
“She’llalwaysbe mine to defend.”
At Grayson’s look of surprise he wished he could take the words back even though they were absolutely true.
“Is that right?” Grayson glanced over at the mantel clock. “I’m due home. But before I go, let me say this. I’d never tell a man whom he should marry, but from your last statement it’s clear you still have deep feelings for Rose. So why not offer for her? I doubt she’ll refuse you.”
Was everyone deaf? “As I keep saying, I have my reasons.”
Grayson studied him and lowered his voice. “Are you ill, Philip? If you are, you know you can talk to me.”
Not unless being sick with guilt counted as illness. “No. Not that I am aware of anyway. I’m just not ready to take a wife—and I’m not sure I ever will be.”
“Rubbish,” Grayson said. “If you feel this way, then perhaps Rose is not the woman for you. When you find the right woman, you’ll fight to your dying breath to make her yours.”
Grayson shoved to his feet and slapped Philip’s shoulder as he made to leave. “Ah, well. If you don’t feel that way about Rose, then you did the honorable thing by letting her go. But I agree. We should watch Tremain. Rose’s widow’s portion is significant. Not that I imagine Kirkwood would allow such a match. Have a pleasant evening.” And with a nod he left the room.
Philip hadn’t considered approaching Kirkwood. Of course he’d be a good ally against Tremain if the rogue was a fortune-hunter. He made a note to call on the older man soon.
But not tonight. As a scrupulous older brother, he had a card game to attend with Maxwell and his friends. His brother’s luck with the cards was nothing short of abysmal and he’d begged Philip for some pointers. He’d agreed, but it was, Philip knew, a waste of his time. Maxwell had never liked to back down from a challenge, and the most important lesson a successful gambler learned early was to know when to fold.
Chapter 7
It was, Rose decided, going to be a very long evening. The Hollanders’ ball was in full swing. The music grated on her ears. The inane conversations around her chafed at her spirit.
And as for Conrad, Viscount Tremain…
“Rose,” he said in a voice that was far too loud, “you are by far the most beautiful woman here, my dear, no matter that you are no longer in your first flush of youth.”
