Page 29 of A Love to Remember
Lady Philomena had allowed Serena to draw her into the room but not before sending him an angry look over her shoulder. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. One look at Rose confirmed she was wearing the tight smile he knew to be a telltale sign of hurt.
Caught between a desire to apologize and an impulse to make his and Philomena’s excuses and leave, he could hardly believe it when Rose invited Philomena to join her on the couch.
He shot Christian a desperate look as his friend came up to him, holding out a glass of whisky. Christian shook his head and handed him the spirits. Philip tossed it back and held out the glass for more.
Christian refilled it. “Don’t get drunk, you fool,” he growled under cover of the conversation. “I am not going to clean up your mess. What the hell were you thinking?”
“I was thinking,” Philip growled back, “that Rose would not be here.”
“And that meant you were free to bring Lady Philomena?” Christian shook his head and smiled so no one could tell that Philip was being berated like a schoolboy. “To a dinner specifically for close friends?”
“And just what would have happened if I’d come alone, for God’s sake? The ladies would have castrated me.”
Christian bared his teeth. “The night is not yet over.”
Grayson arrived at his side. “Would you two please join us? Christian, we can reprimand him later. Philip, the least you can do is be a gentleman about this and smooth the situation over as Rose is doing. But I could bloody punch you.” And with that he returned to take a seat next to his wife.
Philip, whisky in hand, moved closer to the others in time to hear Philomena say to Rose, “I heard your boy was unwell, Your Grace. I hope it’s nothing serious.”
Her question appeared genuine.
“Thank you for your concern, Lady Philomena,” Rose said. “He has a bad cough, but it does seem to be improving. I may still leave town early to ensure we are safely in Cornwall before it snows. I’m told it is a possibility.” She looked in Philip’s direction as she spoke.
Philomena nodded. “Very wise.”
Rose turned to Beatrice. “Drake is driving me mad, asking when he can see Henry, but I thought it best to wait. I don’t wish to spread the cough around your family.”
“Henry wants to see Drake, too,” Beatrice said. “It’ll be such a shame if they cannot catch up before the festive season. Perhaps, when he is better, you will send him to spend a few weeks with us. Knowing there is a treat in the future might help them both bear the separation now.”
Rose smiled. “What a wonderful idea. That would be lovely. I know you must not be looking forward to sending Henry to school but I’m so glad he and Drake will attend Eton together. At least they won’t be alone.”
As the ladies began to talk about their children and schools, and to marvel at Isobel’s condition, Philip began to relax.
Rose wore her duchess face—the one she presented to the world but not in their bedchamber. He shifted in his seat. He didn’t want to think about Rose in her bedchamber, because when he did, blood raced south.
He cursed and crossed his legs.
He’d known walking away from her would be hard. He’d had no idea how lonely he would feel. It wasn’t as though they saw each other that often. When they were both in town they usually shared a bed every night. When he was at his estate he might not see her for two months or more. But never in that time did he take—or even consider—another woman.
He looked over to where Lady Philomena was in conversation with Beatrice. Philomena was beautiful in a hard kind of way. Life had not been kind to her, nor had it been that kind to Rose.
However, Rose had managed not to allow her past to pull her down into despair. Having money would make that easier. Lady Philomena had virtually nothing but her looks. She most certainly needed a wealthy, indulgent husband.
On a sigh he accepted that Philomena—of all the women he could have brought this evening—was the worst choice. After that damned fiasco with the debutante—what was her name again?—she might begin to think he was looking for a wife. And Philomena as his countess would never happen.
Maitland came and dropped down beside him. “I looked at those investments coming due, and you are right, Philip. I think it’s time to move out of those commodities and into some others I’ve been tracking. Why don’t you come over in the next couple of days and we can discuss it?”
“Thank you, I will.” His gratitude to Maitland knew no bounds. His Grace had taken the time to help explain what to do, and how he should be looking at his family’s investment portfolio. It was his lack of investment skills that had seen him lose his money, enlist in the army, and ultimately cost Robert his life.
“I must say you are really coming to grips with the markets. Soon you won’t need me at all.”
Which was high praise from Maitland, who was an investment king. “I am sure I shall always need your advice.”
A little later Sebastian joined them. Soon the men were completely divorced from the women’s conversation. But Philip could not help glancing their way. In spite of the polite conversation and the occasional smiles and gentle laughter, Portia was frowning and abstracted, and Rose’s mouth was still taut.
“Did I tell you I bought a hunting lodge not far from yours in Scotland, Philip?” Sebastian said. “I don’t think we have thanked you enough for such a wonderful stay. Henry and Drake had such fun, and I know it has meant they have formed a strong bond. I can’t wait to be up there next summer with the two boys.”
Philip made a noncommittal noise, but his heart sank. Great. Now Rose would be near his hunting lodge each summer. If she remarried, her new husband would be there, too. And their children.
