Page 54 of A Love to Remember
“Thank you.” And as he rode on to London he prayed his interference in Drake’s situation did not get anyone he loved killed.
—
Christian Trent, Lord Markham, called on Rose not long after she arrived in London. She told him about Drake’s accident and Philip’s suspicions, and was relieved—not to mention a little annoyed—to learn that Philip had also sent word, and asked him to post guards for her—and Drake’s—safety.
She promised not to leave the house without an escort, and to watch Drake closely. She trusted the staff in her home completely; they had been with her for over six years, and they loved Drake.
When Christian told her Philip was on his way from Wiltshire, she almost told him to tell Philip to stay away. But that would raise more questions that she couldn’t answer.
As he was leaving, however, Christian gave her a head-to-toe study and frowned. Being a gentleman, he made no comment about the tightness of her dress but there was a glimmer of suspicion in his eyes. Rose pretended not to be self-conscious about his scrutiny or his probable conclusions. Soon she’d begin to show and there’d be no hiding her condition then—unless her dressmaker could work a miracle.
Alone once more, Rose sank onto the chaise longue. She felt exhausted and sick and just wanted to break down and cry.
Everything was such a mess, and she was running out of time to convince Philip that he loved her and should marry her.
Her fear was that he would learn of her condition first and insist on their marriage out of a sense of duty. How long would it be before his resentment at being forced to do something he so vehemently opposed destroyed whatever feelings they shared now?
Then there was the note itself. She could not risk telling anyone about the note until the writer, their enemy, was caught. Therefore, she could not tell Philip about the child. That meant hiding her news for a few weeks.
Why was everything such a mess? Philip deserved to be happy. She deserved to be happy. They deserved to be happy together.
And, because she deserved to be happy, she cried.
She’d just recovered enough to curl up on the chaise longue with tea, scones, and a novel when the door to the library crashed open to reveal Philip.
He stood in the doorway, smelling of horse and covered in mud, which was dripping from his greatcoat onto her Persian rug.
“For goodness’ sake, Philip,” she scolded, only just rescuing her teacup before it slipped through her fingers.
“The Earl of Cumberland, Your Grace,” Booth said, with none of his usual sedateness.
“I can see that, Booth. Thank you.” She placed the teacup carefully on its saucer and then turned her attention back to Philip. “Please take his lordship upstairs and provide him with a change of clothing before he ruins my floor. When he’s presentable I shall meet him in the drawing room.”
Philip’s glower deepened but when he looked down and saw the mess he was making he had the grace to bow to her, turn around, and follow Booth from the room.
Rose wasn’t sure how to feel. Philip appeared to be angry. Was it because she’d left when Drake was in danger, or because she’d left without telling him?
Who knew? She didn’t, and at that moment, she didn’t care.
It was time to make him realize that he could not have his cake and eat it, too. He was not her master. Nor her lover anymore.
She took time over tidying herself before making her way to the drawing room where fresh tea and a decanter of brandy waited for her.
Philip—his temper apparently under control—returned a moment later, without his greatcoat, and with clean boots and buckskins. While it hadn’t snowed for a few days it was still cold outside. At Rose’s silent gesture he took the chair by the roaring fire.
The moment Booth and the other servants left the room, Philip spoke. “You left without telling me.”
“I did.” And if he was angry, well, so was she. “But before we discuss anything further, I would like to point out that you no longer have the run of my house. In the future, you will not barge in unannounced. What if I had been—entertaining?” She would let him wonder what sort of entertainment she might have had planned.
His cheeks flushed. “I hardly imagined you’d be stupid enough to entertain when there is an enemy out there, determined to hurt your son.” He took a deep breath. “But I shall of course be more—appropriate in the future.”
“Thank you. Now, I assume you have learned something pertinent since you rushed in here as if your breeches were on fire.”
The shock on Philip’s face made her want to laugh out loud. She’d never been so brusque with him.
“You left without telling me.”
“So you said.” And he’d sounded so aggrieved. “I don’t believe I need your permission to do anything. You are not my husband.”
