Page 30 of A Love to Remember
“I saw Maxwell the other night.” Arend filled the awkward silence. “He was with a few friends at Foster’s gambling den. He was betting pretty heavily, encouraged by Lord Farquhar. Are you keeping an eye on him? Farquhar is trouble. He loves watching those with more money but less sense than him lose. I wonder if Foster has him on the payroll—bringing unsuspecting and naive young fools to his den.”
Philip sat up, suddenly completely alert. He had meant to have a talk with his younger brother but with everything happening with Rose he wasn’t ’in the right frame of mind. “I accompanied him and his friends the other night and it did seem he was struggling to use good judgment on when to stop. I must admit I have been concerned. It’s very unlike Maxwell.”
“Well, if you are heading back to Devon, encourage Maxwell to go with you. He needs to keep away from Farquhar for a while.” Arend paused, and his face closed as it did when he was about to issue a threat. “And I’d leave fairly soon yourself. You’ve hurt Rose enough.”
Philip had known he’d lose the women’s goodwill. He had not expected such a backlash from a man he considered a friend.
“I shall leave when I’m good and ready,” he said.
Arend bared his teeth. “I could make you ready.”
Philip didn’t give a fuck what Arend thought. All he cared about was that Rose had been hurt because he should have walked away long ago, but he was weak and now it had come to this. The woman he loved was in love with him—and he had nothing left to offer her.
“Come now, gentlemen,” Hadley said. “I’m sure Philip has a good reason for his actions. I certainly won’t judge—until he explains himself after dinner. Then we might pummel him a bit.” It was said very calmly but Philip knew he was serious.
The rest of the conversation around him faded as he watched Rose and Serena stand and excuse themselves and the women. Where were they going? Was she leaving? Surely she would have made her farewells. But if she intended to slip quietly out— He told himself he was a fool, but when he’d counted to one hundred and she still wasn’t back, he couldn’t sit and make polite conversation any longer. With an apology to the others he rose and escaped the room. He didn’t give a damn what anyone thought. He had to talk with Rose.
—
If Rose’s shoulders knotted and lifted any higher they would be permanently stuck to her ears. Her stomach had begun to churn and she’d started to feel nauseated the moment Philip had arrived with Lady Philomena.
How could he?
Philomena of all women. An ex-lover.Was this his retaliation for Tremain? Yes, she’d taken Tremain to the ball, but Philip had said he knew why—to make him jealous. Had he brought that woman to Serena’s home hoping Portia would tell her and she’d get a taste of her own medicine?
For the hundredth time that evening she cursed herself for being fool enough to come here and put herself through this pain. Her hands itched to slap him. Howdarehe bring someone else—a stranger—to an informal dinner of their friends?
She could feel him watching her. Or perhaps he was watching Philomena, whom she’d stupidly suggested sit beside her.
At least Philomena seemed as uncomfortable as she and had done her best to ease the tension in the room.
Rose chatted as vivaciously as she could until she could bear it no longer. Then, using the excuse that she had brought something for Serena’s daughter, Lily, and wanted to give it to her before she went to sleep, she asked if a servant could accompany her to Lily’s room. Serena, knowing it to be a ruse, offered to take her upstairs herself.
Once in the privacy of the hallway, Serena led her not upstairs but to her husband’s study. “Take your time. Compose yourself in here. You know I will not be offended if you decide to go home. I’ll say you got a message that Drake is not well.”
Rose whirled on her friend. “And run away? It is notIwho should retreat. How could he? I could shoot him.”
“I don’t believe he knew you were coming.”
She sank into a chair. “I am so sorry for placing you in such an embarrassing position. It didn’t occur to me that he’d bring a guest.” She tried not to see the compassion in Serena’s eyes. Failed. “This is how it’s going to be from now on, isn’t it? I didn’t believe he’d move on so soon.”
“I won’t excuse his behavior,” Serena said. “However, people deal with their hurt or pain in many ways. I suspect—”
Whatever Serena had been going to say flew out of Rose’s mind when the door opened and Philip stood there in all his beauty.
“If you’d excuse me, Lady Serena,” he said formally. “I’d like a private word with Her Grace.”
Serena looked at Rose and, when Rose nodded permission, said, “You may have five minutes’ privacy, Lord Cumberland. Then I will return and you will leave.” And she swept from the room.
Rose stood up, unwilling to have him tower over her while she remained seated. He still towered over her, however. He stepped closer, opened his mouth to speak—and something inside Rose snapped. She felt it. A sharp jolt of fury. Her hand whipped out, fast as a snake, and she slapped his face. Then, shocked and embarrassed by her lack of control, she turned away in horror.
“I deserved that.”
“Yes, you did.” She turned back. “If you set out to hurt me tonight—or to prove your point about moving on—I congratulate you. You have done so.”
“I did neither on purpose.” His cheek was reddening where she had struck him. “Portia said you’d decided not to attend tonight. I brought Philomena to maintain some distance during the evening. They would hardly quiz me about us with a stranger in our midst.”
“Why would that concern you? Unless you fear the answers?”
