Page 7 of A Love to Remember
Rose’s stomach fluttered like that of a young girl receiving her first love letter. How thoughtful of Philip to include Drake in their outing. Of course she wanted to go.
She was aching to see him. After their holiday in Scotland Philip had returned to Devon and she to Cornwall. There had been no opportunity since to discuss their situation in person, and he had written to her only twice in the past months. Of course, he was an earl with huge estates to run and family to look after. His mother, too, still lived on the estate.
But his lack of communication had hurt—and made her feel somehow bereft.
Their time together in Scotland had been enjoyable in every respect but one. Philip was as attentive to her as ever, but he seemed to become more and more withdrawn as the days passed. She could feel him slipping away. Was this how he ended his affairs—simply letting them die away without discussion? Unlikely. He had more honor than that.
There was also an odd tension between him and Sebastian. Rose was sure it was to do with her. She was also sure Beatrice knew what had happened, but Beatrice had given her such sympathetic looks that Rose couldn’t bear to swallow her pride and ask, in case the answer was something dreadful.
So she told herself she was imagining foolishness and had pretended all was well. And all had been well—perhaps one of the happiest times she could remember spending with her son and friends.
Drake loved the freedom. In Scotland he had climbed trees, ridden horses, and romped around with Henry without Kirkwood’s servants watching his every move and fussing:You are a duke. Behave like one. You are the last of the Deverill line. Be careful.You have a duty to the family. Remember your obligations.
She knew Kirkwood was only looking after her son’s interests, but it was a terrible burden to place on a young boy and she protected him from it as much as she could. He was a child. He should be able tobeone.
Philip was treating him like the young boy he was—a visit to the British Museum with his best friend. It warmed her heart—and not only on Drake’s behalf. Philip had arrived back in London only the day before and she was thrilled he wanted to see her so soon. Yes. Everything was well between them. She was just allowing her imagination to cut up her peace.
Once he’d heard Lord Cumberland’s plans for the afternoon, it had been almost impossible to keep Drake focused on his lessons. By a quarter to three he was haunting the drawing room window like a well-groomed ghost. Not for the first time, Rose worried about Drake’s growing hero worship. If—when—their affair ended Drake would miss Philip almost as much as she would.
The sick feeling deep in her stomach returned.
Precisely at three o’clock, Philip’s carriage drew up outside the townhouse. As Rose glided down the stairs toward him, the warmth in his smile, the heat in his eyes, and the gentle pressure of his hand as he helped her into the carriage, chased away her doubts.
He was still hers.
While Henry and Drake excitedly chattered together, Philip sat studying her gravely. When she felt heat steal into her cheeks, his mouth curved.
“I love making you blush,” he said softly.
She glanced quickly over to where the boys sat. They were so engrossed in their conversation and with peering out the window that they took no notice of the adults.
Philip’s gaze settled on her mouth. Embarrassed, delighted, she licked her lips. “You are looking well, my lord,” she said.
He reached across the small space and took her hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to her gloved knuckles before slowly letting it go. The light touch of his mouth through her gloves burned like a brand.
“I’m all the better for seeing you,” he said. “I have missed you, my Rose.”
And with those simple words, she was lost. For the past twelve months Rose had fought her feelings. Now she admitted defeat. She had fallen in love, and for the first time since her horrid marriage, she admitted she would marry in a trice if Philip asked her. She wanted him with her every day. She wanted to wake with him in her bed in the morning instead of having to sneak him away before dawn. She wanted to be able to walk proudly on his arm as his wife, without knowing looks from the men, haughty disdain from their wives, and whispers throughout thetonabout their affair. She wanted to have his children. Most of all, she wanted that.
“I have missed you, too,” was all she could manage.
His smile made her knees weaken and her desire soar.
—
It was a blustery autumn day and the British Museum was filled not only with scholars but also with ordinary people, many with children.
The boys loved the museum. They especially loved the Egyptian mummies. Rose did not love the mummies but she loved watching Drake’s and Henry’s enthusiasm for the exhibits. She followed them from room to room as Philip filled their heads with history and adventure and fired their imaginations.
He was a natural with children. They responded to him and he really listened to what they had to say. No question was brushed aside. None was too silly. Even Drake’s “What would happen if the mummy came to life and chased us?” received thoughtful consideration.
“But it couldn’t, could it, sir?” asked Henry, wide-eyed.
“No,” Philip answered gravely. Then he smiled and lowered his voice. “But if it did, remember that mummies are dried-up husks. All we’d have to do is throw water on them. They would become soggy and drown.”
Of course they believed him. Rose wasn’t sure thatshedidn’t believe him, and was glad to leave the Ancient Egyptian exhibit. She spent the rest of the visit trying to maintain a sober face as the boys took careful note of each exit in case of mummy attack, and every container in every room was examined as a potential water carrier.
“Wretch,” she murmured as Philip drew her arm through his. “If they or I have bad dreams tonight—”
