Page 47 of A Love to Remember
“Thank you. Before you go I was wondering if we could take a walk in the orangery after dinner tonight. I have something I’d like to discuss with you.” His face took on a guarded look and her courage began to falter.
“Can we not discuss it now?”
She shook her head. “You’ve already been in my bedchamber too long. Tongues will begin to talk if you do not appear downstairs shortly.”
He nodded. “Of course. I would hate to have gossips get the wrong idea of our meeting here.”
His words kicked her in the stomach, and the nausea she’d tried to keep at bay began to rise. She needed him to leave. “Of course.” She stood and fought the wave of dizziness. “Shall we say ten in the orangery, then?” And she guided him toward the door, practically pushing him into the hall.
“Certainly. I shall slip away and meet you at ten.” He hesitated in the doorway. “Are you sure you are all right? You’ve gone awfully pale again.”
“I just want to go and find Drake and reassure myself he is not still scared. I want him to know I’m here for him and I’d never let anyone hurt him.” Philip had to go now or she’d throw up all over his boots.
“I’ll find the men and we shall start our investigation. But be assured, Drake will be protected at all times. It pays to be careful.”
It was rude, she knew, but she merely said, “Thank you,” and shut the door in his face as she turned and ran for the chamber pot.
Chapter 14
“Drake was pushed?” Sebastian stood with the billiard cue suspended over the table. “And I thought it was going to be a boring house party.”
Philip and the three Libertine Scholars in residence—Sebastian, Grayson, and, as of that morning, Maitland—had retired to the billiards room for some privacy under the guise of a billiards game.
Maitland frowned. “Don’t be so casual, Sebastian. It is serious. No wonder you wanted to talk to us, Philip. But why? It appears that no one gains from the boy’s death except his mother. It does not make sense.”
“I agree,” Philip said. “Therefore, I wonder if Drake was a mistake and someone else is the real target. I think we need to keep an eye on everyone.”
“That’s a tall order,” Grayson murmured. “We should alert Lord Kirkwood. He might have a better idea about which of his guests could be the target.”
Philip shook his head and lined the white ball up behind the red. “Rose made me promise not to tell him. According to her, he already smothers the lad. If he hears Drake was pushed, Rose is afraid he will exercise his right as guardian and she won’t be allowed to take Drake home.”
The white ball hit the red with a decisivecrackand sent the red racing toward the corner pocket.
“Nice shot,” Sebastian said as it disappeared into the pocket. “Then I suggest we ask our wives to assist us. They are the most discreet interrogators I know.”
Everyone laughed—somewhat ruefully— at Sebastian’s tongue-in-cheek suggestion. But Philip was open to all the help he could get. “Good idea.” He handed his cue to Grayson. “We four keep our eyes and ears open and set the ladies to do the same. We only have five days.”
—
Rose should have rested before dinner but she wanted to be certain Drake was safe and recovering from his fear after his accident. So she spent the afternoon with Henry and Drake, reading and watching the boys play before the fire in the library and talking with the wives of the other Libertine Scholars.
She was relieved to see that Drake seemed to all but forget his fall as the day went on. Perhaps Philip was right and she was worrying over nothing. It was probably a case of mistaken identity. More likely it was one member of Kirkwood’s staff playing a silly prank on another, and it had gone wrong. Who else but one of Kirkwood’s household would go to the attic?
All the same, for her peace of mind, Wilson, Philip’s valet, had agreed to sleep in the nursery with the boys each night. That had eased her fears slightly. Now she just had the meeting with Philip to worry about. And Portia.
Portia had been acting very oddly, watching her with a secret smile on her face. It occurred to Rose that her friend might have guessed her secret, but she hoped not. While she loved Portia like a sister, she did not want interference from anyone to ruin her moment with Philip.
How would she broach the subject tonight? She knew she’d stumble to get the words out no matter how simple the truth was—Philip, you are about to be a father.
“Lost in thought, Rose?” Beatrice’s gentle question pulled her back to the present. “Don’t worry. We will get to the bottom of this distressing business.”
She smiled, willing herself to appear at ease. “Yes, of course.”
“Are you heading back to Cornwall after this?” Marisa asked. “Or will you go up to London?”
She didn’t know how to answer that question. It would, of course, depend on Philip’s reaction and the plans they made for the future. Obtaining a special license would be easier in London.
“I think I’ll take Drake on to London. I know it’s a little early, but the trip back to Cornwall is so long. The Season starts late January and I promised I’d help Lady Helen.”
