Chapter 9

Rose had never seen Philip look so lost. So desolate.

The sound of the door closing behind him brought her to herself and she collapsed into a chair.

He wanted her. He missed her.

She should feel triumphant. He was not dismissing her because of her reputation, or because he loved another, or because he hated the idea of family and marriage. Kirkwood’s theory was correct. But that knowledge was cold comfort. How was she now to make Philip see he was being a pigheaded fool?

The door burst open and Serena swept in, eyes bright with concern. “Rose, what happened? Are you all right? Philip has taken Lady Philomena and left. He said he received an urgent message and you would explain.”

Rose drew in a weary breath and stood, although her legs were still uncertain. She hated lying but she couldn’t share Philip’s secrets even with Serena. She loved him. She had to respect his confidences.

“I am fine, my dear friend. Yes, Philip received a message”—that was true enough—“and I was just gathering my thoughts before I returned to the drawing room.”

“I can make your apologies if you wish to leave,” Serena said, eyes brimming. “No one would blame you.”

She stood, smoothing a hand over her hair and clothes. “No. I think I would like to forget Philip for one evening and enjoy a lovely dinner with my friends.”

“Good.” Serena hooked an arm through hers. “That sounds like a sensible plan.”

When they entered the drawing room together every pair of eyes turned her way.

She faced them, chin up, shoulders braced. “If it’s all right with you, I do not want to talk about Philip Flagstaff, Earl of Cumberland, this evening. If that is not acceptable, I shall leave.”

“Philip?” Christian approached and hugged her like a brother. “Philip who?”

Rose let herself relax into him. “Thank you,” she whispered.

And as Christian turned her toward the chaise longue and the other women, the butler called them all to dinner.

Rose knew it was the height of rudeness to call on anyone unannounced. But to call on a gentleman, a married gentleman, when everyone knew she was the Wicked Widow and looking for a new paramour, was perhaps a worse crime. However, she doubted anyone would imagine the recently married Duke of Claymore would be open to any kind of dalliance. She hoped not.

It was why she was calling in the middle of the afternoon.

When the duke’s butler announced her and stood aside to let her enter Hadley’s study, the duke’s eyes rounded in surprise.

“Your Grace,” he said. “This is an unexpected pleasure.” She took the chair he indicated. “Thurston, some tea?”

“Certainly, Your Grace.” Thurston took his leave, closing the door behind him.

Hadley raised an eyebrow. “My wife is not at home at present.”

Of course he would be at a complete loss as to why she was there. How did she begin? “I know. And I apologize. I’m so sorry to come here unannounced but I need some advice on a very delicate matter.”

A guarded look came into his eyes as he took the high-backed chair near her. “I will, of course, give you every possible assistance.”

She wished she had not come. But it was too late now. “You were at Lady Serena’s last night so you know the situation between Lord Cumberland and myself.”

He nodded, looking even more uncomfortable than she felt.

“What you may not know, is that Lord Cumberland’s decision is not simply that he does not wish to marry me”—she cleared her throat—“but that he intends to never marry at all.”

Hadley nodded slowly. “Unfortunate, but I still do not see how I can help. If you are looking to me to make him change his mind, I believe you would do better to discuss that with Grayson or Arend. I’m more of an acquaintance than friend.”

Before she could reply a maid entered, bearing the refreshments tray. She waited for her to leave and then at a nod from Hadley poured them both a cup.

“Are you not curious,” she said, handing him one of the fragile cups, “why an earl would choose not to marry—ever?”

Hadley’s teacup stopped halfway to his lips. “It’s unusual, certainly. Most men with a title know their position in society comes with obligations. He said never?”

She nodded, sipping her tea, waiting for the liquid to warm her.

“He does have three brothers.”

“Yes, he does.” She took a deep breath. “Would it surprise you to learn he thinks he does not deserve the title, or have the right to hand it down to his son? That he believes it should go to Thomas, or Thomas’s son.”

Hadley understood immediately. “Ah.” He rubbed his head. “I’m still not sure how you think I can help.”

She carefully placed her teacup on the table. “I believe—and some comments Lord Cumberland has made confirm this—that he does not wish to marry and sire an heir because he feels responsible for Robert’s death, and that he should not prosper from such an action.”

“Oh.” The light went on in Hadley’s eyes. “And you wish to ask me how I dealt with the guilt of my brother’s death. Or perhaps you think I could talk to Philip?”

She sat back in her chair, ashamed for asking. “I really don’t know what I want from you. Perhaps only hope. You have married.” She sighed and rubbed a tired hand over her eyes. “It seems such a pity that a man who loves children—and, I think, loves me—would waste his life out of guilt. But I don’t know how to make him see sense. He cannot bring Robert back.”

She was close to tears when she finished, and when Hadley spoke, his words were softhearted and laced with pity. “No two situations are ever alike. While I was full of sorrow at Augustus’s death and admit feeling responsible, I had actually been running the Claymore estates since my father died. So no, I did not feel guilty for inheriting the title. Philip’s story is very different.”

She lifted her head to look at him and tears welled in her eyes.

“Come now. There’s no need for tears.” He took her hand. “It does not mean Philip can’t learn to live with his guilt. I don’t think such a thing ever leaves one, but it is possible to live a full life—including marriage and children.”

Hope awoke in her breast and she dashed away her tears. But his next words had that hope plummeting again.

“You can certainly help him, but badgering him is not the answer. He must come to the realization on his own.”

“How?” She leaned forward. “How can I help him come to this realization?”

Hadley scratched his head. “That’s the tricky part. He has to want something else more than he wants to wallow in his guilt. He has to find a reason to let it settle. He won’t lose his sense of guilt entirely but he has to want to learn how to live with it.”

Her heart sank. She had no idea what Philip might want that was more important to him than to do what he considered the honorable thing and leave the title to Thomas. It was obvious that she was not important enough. He’d walked away from her without a fight.

“I’m sorry,” Hadley said gently. “It’s not what you wanted to hear.”

“No.” She gave him a smile that shimmered with suppressed emotion. “But at least I know what I am up against.”

His face relaxed. “I am pleased you are not giving up. After two years I can already see a change in Philip. Maitland says his investment skills have grown. He’s learned from his mistakes, and the Cumberland estates are thriving. He’s no longer aimless. Having the title, having a goal, has focused him. I am sure—with the right encouragement—he could come to accept that his life matters as much as Robert’s did.”

There was nothing much to say after that. She finished her tea and thanked Hadley for his help, and left.

As her town carriage took her home her mind raced from one idea to the next. She did not know what to do now. She’d hardly slept since the affair had ended, and she was exhausted. She would go to Cornwall early, have Christmas with Drake, and then travel north to Gloucestershire to Kirkwood’s estate for the New Year. Perhaps some distance would give both her and Philip time to think about what they really wanted.

The carriage drew to a halt and she was handed down. The front door was already open and Booth waited for her. But his grim face told her something was wrong.

She rushed up the steps. “Is it Drake?”

“His Grace is well,” Booth said. “He’s safely upstairs with his tutor. However, you have a guest who refuses to leave, Your Grace.”

Not Philip. Booth would hardly appear so grim if it was Philip waiting for her. “Who?”

“Viscount Tremain, Your Grace.”

When she walked into her drawing room Tremain was standing by the fire.

She didn’t wait for him to speak. “What do you think you are doing, Conrad?” she said. “This is my home, not yours. I give orders to my servants. You do not. Now state your business and then leave. I’m tired and wish to see my son before I retire.”

“Is that any way to greet your lover?” His face broke into the seductive smile that usually had women melting. “I have been waiting for your return, my dear.” He moved toward her, obviously intending to pull her into his arms.

She sidestepped him neatly. “We are not lovers, Conrad,” she said. “Not now. Not ever again. I thought I had made that clear the other night. So answer my question. Why are you here?”

His smile wavered and there was a flash of anger in his eyes. “I did not think you meant it. You are looking for a husband. I want a wife. I think we would suit.”

She considered. As she had been the one to approach him, she owed him an explanation. “I do want to marry, and I have a man in mind. But I’m sorry, that man is not you.”

His smile died. “Lord Cumberland.”

She did not answer. “However, ever since I became aware of your financial difficulties I have been considering how best to help you. May I suggest Mr. Hemllison’s daughter? She has a dowry of thirty thousand pounds, and her father wants a title. Having met the young woman, I think you deserve each other.”

He stared at her, incredulous. “You know I am without funds?”

She inclined her head. “Of course.”

“Who told you?” When she said nothing, his face went dark. “Cumberland. Damned dog in the manger. He doesn’t want you, but he has to poke his nose in where it no longer belongs.”

“It will always belong.” Rose watched his jaw go tight and his fists clench and release. He didn’t frighten her. His pretensions were intolerable. “Kindly leave, or I shall call my servants and have you removed. You are no longer welcome in my home. My staff will be instructed to refuse you entrance.”

Tremain took a step forward, eyes blazing. “He won’t marry you. He has no need of your money. He can have his pick of young debutantes. Lady Abigail is the prime example.”

The truth hurt, but she’d had enough histrionics for one night. “Lady Abigail is certainly a charming young lady. Please leave.”

He stalked past her, but as he reached the door he turned back. “A word of advice. Don’t waste your life waiting for him. If he has given you your congé he’s not coming back. What fool will settle for another man’s leftovers when he can have a wealthy young virgin at the drop of a handkerchief?”

With that insult he strode out and slammed the door after him.

Rose lowered herself into a chair before her legs folded under her. Cruel or not, Conrad might well be correct—for Conrad. But Philip wasn’t anything like Conrad. Philip had a heart. She just had to think of a way to make Philip listen to his heart instead of his guilt.