Page 6 of A Love to Remember
Of course, Henry was now determined to catch one, too. After some argument, he took Drake’s “lucky” rod, and after another half an hour, landed a similar-size salmon.
“We should get these to Cook,” Drake said, importantly, the moment Henry was finished gloating over his prize. “Because there is nothing as good as fresh salmon for breakfast.” And together they raced off toward the house carrying their catch between them in the fishing net.
Much to Philip’s annoyance, Sebastian took up their previous conversation.
“If you love Rose,” he said, “then marry her. Don’t let the past muddy your decisions. You deserve to make a happy future for yourself. Robert would not have wanted you to remain alone. But”—he cleared his throat—“if you are not considering marriage with her, then let her go. It’s obvious that she loves you, and it’s unfair to let her believe something that will never happen.”
“But she doesn’t wish to remarry,” Philip snapped, goaded by both guilt and rising anger. “It’s no secret.”
Sebastian nodded. “That is indeed possible. She has no need to marry—except for love. Kirkwood, however, might force her hand. As Drake’s guardian he will be thinking of Drake and his reputation. After all, he controls her son, and Rose loves the boy. Kirkwood could make her do virtually anything. I suspect he’s waiting to see what becomes of your affair. But if you walk away, I think he’ll insist on her remarrying.”
The very thought of Rose married to someone else made Philip’s stomach clench, and the fiery dragon of possessive jealousy roared awake.
“Well, well,” Sebastian said slowly. “So the idea of her marrying someone else is repugnant to you. Then why are you not already wed and setting up your nursery?”
Suddenly furious, Philip swung around on him. “Because not all of us are like you,” he snarled. “Not all of us want a wife and sons to carry on the name. I have three brothers. Any one of them is perfectly capable of stepping into my shoes. I don’tneeda wife. I don’twanta nursery.”
Sebastian had stopped walking. Now he stood still, his narrowed gaze fixed on Philip’s face. “My God. That’s why? Because of Robert? Don’t be a stupid bugger, Philip. Robert would want—”
Enough was enough. “Don’t you dare preach to me about what Robert would want.” Self-loathing fanned the raging fire of guilt and anger, and his very muscles trembled with the need for violence. “My choice is none of your business. Keep out of it.”
For a moment it looked like Sebastian might give him the fight he wanted. But in the end he simply shook his head. “Well, I think you’re a fool. However, if you truly do intend the title to pass to Thomas, then it’s even more imperative that you let Rose go. She deserves the chance to be happy.”
And with that Sebastian stalked off, leaving him in the shade of a large alder tree, fuming.
Slowly, he began to walk back to the hunting lodge, following Sebastian’s stiff, angry strides up ahead of him.
Why did he need to tell Rose anything? Why should he let her go? Weren’t they happy as they were? Why shouldn’t an arrangement to simply remain lovers suit both of them? Sebastian might be right about Kirkwood’s plans for Rose, but he was quite capable of dealing with Kirkwood if he ever became a problem.
By the time Philip reached the house his mood had lifted. He entered the entrance hall just as the boys clattered in from delivering their fish to Cook, and the ladies were descending the stairs.
When Drake saw his mother his face lit up and he ran to her.
“Mama, Mama,” he cried, almost dancing with excitement. “Father helped me catch a big salmon and we’re going to eat it for breakfast.”
“Silly,” Henry said into the sudden awkward silence. “Lord Cumberland is not your father.”
Philip saw Rose’s face infuse with color and the boy’s smile dimmed, his cheeks flushing crimson.
Then Rose hurried forward and hugged him. “It sounds as though you had an exciting morning. Did you thank Lord Cumberland for the treat?”
“Yes, Mama.” Drake, cheeks still flaming, lifted his chin. “I’m sorry, my lord. I made a mistake.”
An excited child’s mistake, but the sense of desolation and loss in the boy’s voice now tugged at Philip’s heart. He said the first thing that came to mind, “That’s all right, Drake. I’m honored that you think of me that way. You’re a son to make any father proud. Now”—he walked over and ruffled the little boy’s hair—“let’s get cleaned up before breakfast so we can sit down with the ladies like gentlemen and eat that salmon.”
He held out his hand. After a moment Drake took it. Then hand in hand the two of them walked up the stairs, the sound of silence trailing after them.
Chapter 3
LONDON, THREE MONTHS LATER (EARLYNOVEMBER)
My darling,
I promised to take Drake and Henry to see the Bassae Frieze at the British Museum. We would love for you to join us. May I beg an invitation to stay for supper afterward? I shall send my carriage for you at three.
Yours always,
Philip Flagstaff, Earl of Cumberland
