Page 65 of A Love to Remember
For a moment she thought she was seeing the imaginings of a fevered brain. Then she was in Philip’s arms, cradled tight and secure against his rock-hard chest.
Still disbelieving, she breathed him in. It was his scent. It was Philip. He had come for her. He was here, and she was safe.
“Rose, my darling Rose.” He pressed kisses all over her face and throat. “Thank God. Are you all right?”
How could she be anything else now that he was here? “Yes. I’m just tired and”—she lifted the forgotten bread and cheese in one hand—“starving.”
“Are you sure?” He gazed down into her face, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
She nestled her cheek into his coat. “You’re here now, and that is all that matters.”
It was only then that Rose considered Faith, and her feelings. She had seen Philip catch Rose up, witnessed his embrace, heard his endearments. How it must hurt to see the father of your child welcome another woman in such a way.
But Faith did not seem at all hurt. She was watching them with a dreamy look on her face and a secret smile.
But before Rose could think too much more about it, David called from the other room. “Someone else is coming.”
Philip carefully lowered Rose back down to the bed and turned to Faith. “Stay here and stay quiet,” he said. “My friends have the cottage surrounded. We want to catch Francis and Kirkwood in the act.”
He turned back to Rose, his eyes full of regret. “I’m sorry, my love. It’s dangerous, but it’s the only way we can prove their villainous scheme and stop them.”
Did he think she would object? “Good. I want that wicked man and his son as far away from me and Drake as possible.”
She’d hardly finished speaking when the front door slammed open.
“Drop the pistol, my man”—it was Lord Francis—“and tell me where Her Grace is. Quickly, or I’ll put a bullet through your heart.”
Faith’s face drained of color, and only Philip’s quick movement of warning made her stifle a cry.
“There’s no need for that.” Kirkwood sounded his usual urbane self. “Her Grace, the Duchess of Roxborough, is ill and not in her right mind. She ran away from us, believing she was being kidnapped, when Lord Francis and I were merely escorting her home to Cornwall.”
Rose had wondered why Kirkwood had chosen to hide her in a house in Devon. Now the reason became clear. If they were stopped or caught, all the men had to say was that they were escorting her home.
It would be her word against Kirkwood’s. The word of the scandalous Wicked Widow against that of a powerful and well-regarded marquess—a man with whom she had always been friendly. She would never win Drake’s freedom that way. They had to compel Francis and Kirkwood to admit their crime—and there was only one way to do that.
She struggled to her feet, forcing herself to stand tall. When Philip put out his hand to stop her, she shook her head.
She moved closer. Whispered in his ear. “I have to make them admit what they have done and what they intend to do. We need proof before you and the other Libertine Scholars can bear witness and arrest them.”
Indecision, fear, and finally resignation flickered over his handsome face. When he nodded, she pressed a kiss to his lips and then slipped past him, and through the door into the main room.
“Come, Lord Kirkwood,” she said as if chiding a child Drake’s age. “I believe David here is well aware that you have no intention of escorting me home. You plan to force me into marriage either with Viscount Tremain or with Lord Francis in order to control my financial assets. And we both know your unholy alliance doesn’t end there. Your plans go a great deal further.”
Kirkwood stepped toward her and it took an effort for her not to step back. “Rose, my dear,” he said. “You are overwrought and tired from your pregnancy. You are speaking absolute nonsense.”
“I am not speaking nonsense. Neither am I overwrought—no thanks to your idiot son. I suppose I should be grateful, Lord Kirkwood, that you suggested Tremain marry me rather than Lord Francis.” She cast Lord Francis a withering look. “Being married to this imbecile would have been hell.”
Her taunt had the desired effect. Lord Francis’s lip drew back in a sneer. “You haughty bitch. Yes, my father’s idea was to marry you off to Tremain. He definitely doesn’t want a Cumberland cuckoo in the Kirkwood nest. But I disagree.”
“Shut up, you fool,” Kirkwood growled.
But Francis was too enraged by her taunt and her escape from his clutches. He prowled toward her, a vein throbbing at his temple.
Rose refused to cower or move back. She knew her defiance would anger him more. “Really? You disagree?”
His eyes flashed fury. “Yes. I do. Now I think I would very much enjoy schooling you to be a respectful, obedient wife. A pity that our romantic runaway match will have such a tragic end. Thetonwill be overcome with pity for me when both you and your son have a terrible accident. But I shall be more than adequately consoled by Roxborough’s money.”
“Francis!” Kirkwood’s voice cracked like a pistol shot. “That is enough. The woman is baiting you.”
