Page 31 of A Love to Remember
His mouth firmed. “I do not. But the answer I give will be so obvious a lie it will show me in a bad light.”
That surprised her. “What would you say?”
He looked down into her face and his mouth softened. “I would say that we are not suited.”
Pain lanced into her chest like a red-hot poker. Damned if she was going to let him walk away this time without admitting to the truth. “Enough is enough, Philip. For two years we have shared every moment together that we could both spare. You and I—of all people—could build a happy life together. To say anything else would be a lie indeed.”
He shoved frustrated fingers through his hair. “Grabbing moments together is not living together, Rose. You have a son. I have a mother. We would have to combine our households.”
Her hackles lifted. “Don’t you dare imply my son stands between us. He adores you.”
He rubbed his neck. “Of course he doesn’t stand between us. That is not what I meant.”
“Then tell me what you mean. No lies. No pretty words. I want plain, unadorned truth. Give me the real reason marriage is so abhorrent to you. Or is it only marriage to me that is distasteful and you are trying to be kind?”
A mixture of emotions crossed his face, flickering like firelight. “You won’t understand. How could you? You have no idea what I live through every day. It’s hard enough to see you and know—God.” He swung away, and then swung back, eyes wild. “Do you really think I would not want to touch you, to kiss you, to make love to you? God, Rose, I miss you so.”
And then she was in his arms. “I miss you, too, youidiot,” was all she managed before she was kissing him, and he was kissing her back as if he could not live without her.
But Rose was fighting for her happiness in earnest knowing Serena would soon be back, and she still did not have her answer.
She placed one last, lingering kiss on Philip’s mouth and stepped away from him. “You say I won’t understand,” she said gently. “You’re wrong. I understand very well. You believe you do not have the right to love and to be happy, to have a wife and legitimate sons, to see the title pass to your children and your children’s children, because Robert is dead and you blame yourself for his death.”
He turned into a statue, not moving, barely breathing.
“You say I don’t know,” she whispered. “But I do, my love. I know you. I know you better than you know yourself, and Robert would haveneverwanted to see you live this half-life you’ve condemned yourself to, and deep down you know it.”
Still he didn’t speak. Didn’t move. She wasn’t sure he even breathed.
And then, a log fell apart in the grate, breaking the spell. He turned on his heel, and a moment later she was standing in the middle of the study. Alone.
Chapter 9
Rose had never seen Philip look so lost. So desolate.
The sound of the door closing behind him brought her to herself and she collapsed into a chair.
He wanted her. He missed her.
She should feel triumphant. He was not dismissing her because of her reputation, or because he loved another, or because he hated the idea of family and marriage. Kirkwood’s theory was correct. But that knowledge was cold comfort. How was she now to make Philip see he was being a pigheaded fool?
The door burst open and Serena swept in, eyes bright with concern. “Rose, what happened? Are you all right? Philip has taken Lady Philomena and left. He said he received an urgent message and you would explain.”
Rose drew in a weary breath and stood, although her legs were still uncertain. She hated lying but she couldn’t share Philip’s secrets even with Serena. She loved him. She had to respect his confidences.
“I am fine, my dear friend. Yes, Philip received a message”—that was true enough—“and I was just gathering my thoughts before I returned to the drawing room.”
“I can make your apologies if you wish to leave,” Serena said, eyes brimming. “No one would blame you.”
She stood, smoothing a hand over her hair and clothes. “No. I think I would like to forget Philip for one evening and enjoy a lovely dinner with my friends.”
“Good.” Serena hooked an arm through hers. “That sounds like a sensible plan.”
When they entered the drawing room together every pair of eyes turned her way.
She faced them, chin up, shoulders braced. “If it’s all right with you, I do not want to talk about Philip Flagstaff, Earl of Cumberland, this evening. If that is not acceptable, I shall leave.”
“Philip?” Christian approached and hugged her like a brother. “Philip who?”
