Page 38 of A Love to Remember
But he hasn’t chosen you. He let you walk out of his life.
Pride was little comfort when a woman found herself in her condition.
Kirkwood would never allow her to have a child out of wedlock. If Philip—God forbid—refused to marry her, Kirkwood would marry her willy-nilly to any man, simply to preserve the Deverill name.
But Philip would never be so dishonorable. Once he learned of her condition he would be honor-bound to offer for her. And while the situation did not sit easy on her conscience, she had not, after all, deliberately set out to entrap him. If anything it was his mistake, and she would damn well make sure she—and her child—did not pay the price of that mistake.
Society might tolerate the Duchess of Roxborough as the Wicked Widow. They would not, however, tolerate the Duchess of Roxborough bearing a bastard as evidence of her wanton behavior.
She would not wish society’s scorn to come down upon any child—and she couldn’t believe,refusedto believe, that Philip would, either.
—
Philip looked forward to spending a few days at Lord Kirkwood’s estate. It had nothing to do with the fact that Rose would be there, too.
He lay now in a hot tub, scrubbing off the day’s ride before heading downstairs for dinner. Rose would arrive tomorrow. He had one more night in which to get his jumbled emotions under control.
Hemissedher.
Having his family around him over Christmas had kept some of his loneliness at bay. But he missed her—and not only in his bed. She was probably the only person he truly shared himself with.
No, that was a lie. He only sharedpartof himself with her. However, she now knew everything about him. He should’ve realized she would worry and tug at the tangled skein of his excuses until she unraveled them and found the truth. It had, after all, been she who’d understood his guilt and sorrow when they’d stood together at Robert’s graveside.
Perhaps that was why he’d accepted Kirkwood’s invitation. A part of him wanted to grab at any excuse to let go of the guilt he bore over Robert’s death. He wanted Rose to change his mind.
Well, it wasn’t going to happen, but he would always be her friend. It was time to build on that decision.
On his ride that morning with the other men, Maxwell had finally confessed that he found law boring, and had no desire to continue his studies. He enjoyed being outside working on the land with both crops and animals. He really wanted to be a gentleman farmer.
Philip was more than relieved to find out the cause of Maxwell’s behavior and why he was gambling and drinking himself stupid. He understood his brother’s unhappiness, and together the two set about working out what Maxwell would do with his life.
The Flagstaffs had a second estate on the border between Dorset and Hampshire. Part of the estate was home to Portia’s apple orchard.
Philip had heard that one of the local squires wanted to sell a large sheep farm close by—in fact, he had the man’s letter of offer for sale on his desk. He’d originally decided to turn it down because he thought their Dorset farm manager could not handle much more. But it would be the perfect property to allow Maxwell to learn to do what he loved best.
Now, instead of coming with him to Kirkwood’s, Maxwell was on his way to Dorset. If Maxwell liked what he saw, and could agree on a price he was prepared to pay, the family would buy the neighboring farm for Maxwell and merge it with the Dorset farm and orchards.
It had been the perfect Christmas present for both Maxwell and himself. Philip no longer had to worry about the youngest Flagstaff. His brother had not been this animated in a long while.
He now understood how Robert must have felt every time Philip made a mistake. Robert would have wanted to protect him, help him, and try and lead him down the right path, just as Philip fought to do for Maxwell. That is why Robert enlisted. He loved Philip and he wanted to protect him. If anything, becoming the earl had made Philip realize that his actionshadled to Robert’s death. He was definitely to blame. There was such a fine line between guidance and overprotection, and it was easy to slip over the edge either way.
An hour later Philip had bathed, dressed, and descended the stairs to join the rest of the guests for drinks before dinner. Only two other couples were in the room when he entered: Portia and Grayson, and Lord and Lady Jersey. He bid the latter couple hello and then sauntered over to where his sister and her husband sat.
Portia had remained at her husband’s estate in Somerset for Christmas with their little boy, Jackson. It had been Philip’s first Christmas without Portia.
Grayson rose and shook his hand before searching for drinks for them both.
She stood and held out her arms.
It warmed his heart to see his sister so happy and he returned her embrace with genuine affection. “It’s good to see you,” he said and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I hope the journey wasn’t too much for Jackson.”
She smiled. “He has his father’s constitution. I expect you to visit with your nephew in the morning.”
“I look forward to it. I have a present for him.”
“He’s too young for presents,” she teased.
“A man is never too young to receive his first bottle of fine whisky,” Philip said, straight-faced. “By the time he comes of age it will be perfect to uncork and drink with his uncle.”
