Chapter 11

Christmas had been a quiet but joyous affair. The highlight for Rose—and for Drake, too—had been the gift from Philip to Drake—a young gelding named Crusoe.

In his note to the boy, Philip had explained Crusoe was looking for a fine young man to be his first owner. He was a good jumper and very partial to apples but had a few tricks—like standing on people’s feet or trying to unseat his rider under the trees.

The bad weather had meant Drake had only been able to ride the horse around the stable yard. So it was no surprise that the boy begged to be able to take Crusoe to Lord Kirkwood’s so that he might go riding with Lord Cumberland—and, of course, thank him—in person.

The thoughtfulness of the gift gave Rose hope. It seemed unconscionable that Philip would continue to refuse to have children of his own. If only she could make him see what a wonderful father he would be.

Drake had been almost impossible to manage the last few days because he was so excited about seeing Henry again, as well as Lord Cumberland. Sebastian and Beatrice were on Kirkwood’s guest list. So were the other Libertine Scholars—all except Arend and Isobel. As Isobel was due to give birth in a few weeks, Arend had decided they would remain at his estate near York.

On the day before they were due to leave for Wiltshire, Rose sat at her writing desk going over her lists. Surely she didn’t need to take as much as this to Lord Kirkwood’s—although the manor could be quite cold even despite the fires his staff kept burning all day and all night. Drake’s cough seemed to have disappeared. She did not wish to risk it returning.

Picking up her quill, she tried to see what on earth she could leave behind.

She was about to scratch off the second fox stole from the list when her lady’s maid entered, carrying two of her hatboxes.

“We are going to need at least three carriages to carry everything on your list, Elaine,” Rose said laughingly. “Is there anything we can leave behind?”

“There is nothing on that list you will not need.” Elaine shrugged. “Or could possibly need. We should be prepared for anything.”

Rose nodded. “This is why traveling is such a chore. It’s hard to know what one will require and therefore what one should take—or leave behind.”

“There is something that needs to be added to the list.”

Rose groaned. “I can’t imagine what.”

Elaine gave her a shrewd look. “Your rags. I’ve had them ready for the last two weeks. I thought your monthly courses would’ve come by now.”

All the air rushed from Rose’s lungs, leaving her dizzy. With shaking hands, she set the list down on her writing desk. “That can’t be right. Are you sure?”

“I keep your schedule,” Elaine said. “You’ve been as regular as clockwork, except of course, when you were expecting Drake.”

Rose let one hand slide to her stomach. “You think I’m with child.”

She couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips. The prospect of having Philip’s child thrilled her. She let herself bathe in her happiness, refusing to let the thought of what Philip might think ruin her joy.

“I can see you are extremely happy about the possibility,” Elaine said.

“Yes, I am. But, Elaine, we must keep this between ourselves. If I am with child it’s very early on. There is no point in raising hopes”—or causing problems—“until we know for certain.”

“Shall I ask the doctor to call? I could say that you’d like him to attend His Grace one last time before we travel.”

Rose shook her head. “No. You know how gossip works. I believe none of my staff would talk, but I cannot vouch for the doctor. No one must learn of my condition until I speak to Lord Cumberland.”

She knew exactly when his seed had taken root. How ironic, that on the very night they called an end to their affair, she became with child. Surely it was a sign that fate had decreed they should be together as man and wife.

“He will have to marry you now.”

She could not deny it. However, nor could she help but wish that Philip had chosen to marry her instead of being forced to do so.

Anyway, it was early days yet. She needn’t tell Philip immediately. She could still use her time at the New Year’s house party to influence Philip. To show his sacrifice in its true light of a martyrdom Robert would never have condoned, rather than a symbol of duty and love.

“At least they are one less thing to pack,” Rose said weakly.

Elaine smiled. “I still have the last of your gowns to pack. I assume you wish to wear the lilac gown, and the fox fur cape and throws. And don’t you worry, Your Grace. I’ll make sure His Grace is wrapped up like a mummy.”

With that, Elaine left the room.

The moment she was alone, Rose forgot all about her list.

Instead, she stood, walked to the window, and gazed out on the Roxborough estate. She had stood here once before, not quite twenty years old, having just learned she was carrying a child. All she could see before her then was a lonely, unbearable, slave-like life.

It wasn’t that Lord Roxborough was an ogre. He was simply thoughtless. When he came to her bed, it was under the cover of darkness, they both kept their night rails on, and it was over quickly, for which she sincerely thanked God. Roxborough had no idea how to arouse a woman—saw no use for Rose at all except as a vehicle to give him a son—and the couplings were always painful.

Learning then that she was with child, her first thought had been that there was now no further reason for her husband to come to her bed and she would be free of that awful torture. And she was right. It was almost as if he saw the bedding of her as distasteful. He never set foot in her room again.

Her second thought had been to pray for a son. If she bore Roxborough a son she would never have to share her husband’s bed again. She gave no thought to the child she carried except as a means to an end, and all through her pregnancy she struggled to form any bond with the life growing inside her.

She had no idea Drake would change her life.

When she did hold her baby in her arms for the first time, love consumed her. She had not expected to feel so much. For the first time since her marriage, she cared for someone other than herself. Everything she had been through, she would’ve endured again, if it meant a chance to cradle this child—this beautiful baby—in her arms.

And fate had stepped in a second time that day. Upon learning Rose had borne him a son, the Duke of Roxborough ordered the preparation of a party for the entire estate, toasted his son’s good health, smoked an imported cigar, tossed back a glass of whisky—and then collapsed and died from apoplexy.

For Rose, the birth of her son had been an exhausting but perfect day.

Now she stood here again, a child growing within her. This time her heart was light, her smile was sincere. She rested a palm on her flat belly, already embracing the life growing inside her. This was Philip’s child. Hers and Philip’s. She did not care whether she had a girl or a boy. Either would be perfect, because it would be part of Philip. When they married there would be time aplenty to provide him his heir.

Luckily, the snow held off for Rose’s journey to Wiltshire. They had to overnight in Devon, and when Drake asked why they didn’t stay with Lord Cumberland she simply said Lord Cumberland had already left to go to Lord Kirkwood’s. This seemed to pacify him.

Instead, they stayed at a small coaching inn just north of the Cumberland estate. She stayed there regularly when Philip wanted to see her but—because Portia was not in residence—she was unable to stay at Flagstaff Castle. They would meet here in secret.

She knew the innkeeper and his wife, Margaret, well, and it would appear town gossip spread quickly.

“I was very sorry to hear that you and Lord Cumberland—that is to say—that you are not such good friends anymore.” Margaret was not fishing for gossip. She really was commiserating with Rose over the breakup of their relationship.

“We are still friends,” Rose told her, truthfully. “But for the moment, perhaps not as close as we were.”

“His Lordship was in here about a sennight ago.” Margaret stood, wringing her hands as if she wanted to impart information but didn’t know whether she should.

“Was he? I hope he is well.”

“He was well, Your Grace. It was the young lady with him. They called her Faith. It was obvious to me that she was with child. Apparently, she’s been given one of the cottages on the south side of the estate and works at the big house.”

Faith. Where had Rose heard that name before? And then she remembered Faith was the name of the prostitute Tremain had written to her about.

It took Rose an effort not to let her shock show on her face. “Are you saying it’s Lord Cumberland’s child?”

For almost two years, Philip had made sure he never got her with child. He insisted on her using a sponge, or he would use a French letter, or he would simply spill his seed outside her body. But in only a few months since the ending of their affair he had managed to get a young girl with child.

Rose knew accidents happened, or couples got caught up in the moment. That’s how she now found herself with child. Philip had been so overcome with desire he had broken his own rule with no encouragement from her.

Margaret shrugged. “Who can say? He did seem to take a great amount of interest in her well-being. I—I just thought you needed to know. His lordship left for Lord Kirkwood’s estate yesterday. I know that’s where you’re heading, too.”

“I appreciate your concern.” Rose was now desperate to get away from the woman. “I know Lord Cumberland is an excellent employer who takes good care of his staff whether in his homes or on his estate. It does not surprise me that he’s shown special kindness to a woman who is with child, and on her own. But thank you for telling me.”

And with a smile and a nod she turned and made her way upstairs to the rooms set aside for her, Drake, and Elaine.

She could not believe Philip would have moved on to another lover so soon, but then men had needs. And if he was not in love with her, why wouldn’t he have found someone else? Looking back she was a fool to think he would marry her. Not once had he lied or misled her. He’d never professed love.

How ironic though. For a man who did not wish to become a father, it would appear Philip was to become a father twice over. She felt a twinge of sorrow for young Faith. There was no chance that Philip would marry her. At least Rose did not have to compete with a lady of her social standing. She shuddered to think what Philip would have done if he’d had to choose between her and, for example, Lady Philomena.

She knew Philip would choose her.

But he hasn’t chosen you. He let you walk out of his life.

Pride was little comfort when a woman found herself in her condition.

Kirkwood would never allow her to have a child out of wedlock. If Philip—God forbid—refused to marry her, Kirkwood would marry her willy-nilly to any man, simply to preserve the Deverill name.

But Philip would never be so dishonorable. Once he learned of her condition he would be honor-bound to offer for her. And while the situation did not sit easy on her conscience, she had not, after all, deliberately set out to entrap him. If anything it was his mistake, and she would damn well make sure she—and her child—did not pay the price of that mistake.

Society might tolerate the Duchess of Roxborough as the Wicked Widow. They would not, however, tolerate the Duchess of Roxborough bearing a bastard as evidence of her wanton behavior.

She would not wish society’s scorn to come down upon any child—and she couldn’t believe, refused to believe, that Philip would, either.

Philip looked forward to spending a few days at Lord Kirkwood’s estate. It had nothing to do with the fact that Rose would be there, too.

He lay now in a hot tub, scrubbing off the day’s ride before heading downstairs for dinner. Rose would arrive tomorrow. He had one more night in which to get his jumbled emotions under control.

He missed her.

Having his family around him over Christmas had kept some of his loneliness at bay. But he missed her—and not only in his bed. She was probably the only person he truly shared himself with.

No, that was a lie. He only shared part of himself with her. However, she now knew everything about him. He should’ve realized she would worry and tug at the tangled skein of his excuses until she unraveled them and found the truth. It had, after all, been she who’d understood his guilt and sorrow when they’d stood together at Robert’s graveside.

Perhaps that was why he’d accepted Kirkwood’s invitation. A part of him wanted to grab at any excuse to let go of the guilt he bore over Robert’s death. He wanted Rose to change his mind.

Well, it wasn’t going to happen, but he would always be her friend. It was time to build on that decision.

On his ride that morning with the other men, Maxwell had finally confessed that he found law boring, and had no desire to continue his studies. He enjoyed being outside working on the land with both crops and animals. He really wanted to be a gentleman farmer.

Philip was more than relieved to find out the cause of Maxwell’s behavior and why he was gambling and drinking himself stupid. He understood his brother’s unhappiness, and together the two set about working out what Maxwell would do with his life.

The Flagstaffs had a second estate on the border between Dorset and Hampshire. Part of the estate was home to Portia’s apple orchard.

Philip had heard that one of the local squires wanted to sell a large sheep farm close by—in fact, he had the man’s letter of offer for sale on his desk. He’d originally decided to turn it down because he thought their Dorset farm manager could not handle much more. But it would be the perfect property to allow Maxwell to learn to do what he loved best.

Now, instead of coming with him to Kirkwood’s, Maxwell was on his way to Dorset. If Maxwell liked what he saw, and could agree on a price he was prepared to pay, the family would buy the neighboring farm for Maxwell and merge it with the Dorset farm and orchards.

It had been the perfect Christmas present for both Maxwell and himself. Philip no longer had to worry about the youngest Flagstaff. His brother had not been this animated in a long while.

He now understood how Robert must have felt every time Philip made a mistake. Robert would have wanted to protect him, help him, and try and lead him down the right path, just as Philip fought to do for Maxwell. That is why Robert enlisted. He loved Philip and he wanted to protect him. If anything, becoming the earl had made Philip realize that his actions had led to Robert’s death. He was definitely to blame. There was such a fine line between guidance and overprotection, and it was easy to slip over the edge either way.

An hour later Philip had bathed, dressed, and descended the stairs to join the rest of the guests for drinks before dinner. Only two other couples were in the room when he entered: Portia and Grayson, and Lord and Lady Jersey. He bid the latter couple hello and then sauntered over to where his sister and her husband sat.

Portia had remained at her husband’s estate in Somerset for Christmas with their little boy, Jackson. It had been Philip’s first Christmas without Portia.

Grayson rose and shook his hand before searching for drinks for them both.

She stood and held out her arms.

It warmed his heart to see his sister so happy and he returned her embrace with genuine affection. “It’s good to see you,” he said and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I hope the journey wasn’t too much for Jackson.”

She smiled. “He has his father’s constitution. I expect you to visit with your nephew in the morning.”

“I look forward to it. I have a present for him.”

“He’s too young for presents,” she teased.

“A man is never too young to receive his first bottle of fine whisky,” Philip said, straight-faced. “By the time he comes of age it will be perfect to uncork and drink with his uncle.”

Portia threw herself back into his arms and laughed. “What a thoughtful gift. I just have to make sure his father doesn’t drink it in the meantime.”

“Oh, I bought a flask for Grayson, too.”

“I could kiss you again. Come and sit and tell me about Christmas. Grayson and I plan to go on to Flagstaff Castle after this to see Mother, Maxwell, and Douglas. Tell me, did Douglas come home for Christmas?”

“He did not. He stayed in Scotland. And, of course, Thomas sent gifts from India. However cleverly Maxwell and I kept Mother amused, I know she misses you and Jackson.”

Portia squeezed his hand. “Then I will stay for a whole month. Grayson is indulgent. Will Maxwell be home?”

“No. He is off in Dorset. Inspecting Squire Hornridge’s farm. It’s up for sale.”

Her eyes narrowed, considering. “Isn’t that property near our farm?”

“Yes, and Maxwell is looking for an estate to manage. It seems law is not to our brother’s taste, after all.”

Portia’s eyes welled. “So you are buying him a farm. You are such a wonderful brother. I knew he wasn’t happy, but you men are such trials to your womenfolk. You won’t talk about your emotions or problems.” She stopped and then softly said, “Just as you will not share why you are purposely making Rose and yourself unhappy.”

“Portia,” he warned. “Don’t spoil our first night together in several weeks.”

Her smile faded. “But Rose arrives tomorrow—and I don’t want to be caught between my best friend and my brother.”

“That won’t happen,” he said, hoping it was true.

“I couldn’t live through another night like Serena’s dinner party. Please tell me you have come here alone.”

Did she think he kept a harem? “Of course I came alone. I would not have brought Lady Philomena to that dinner, either, had you not lied to me.”

She elbowed him in his stomach. “I did not lie. Rose had told us all she was unable to attend, then changed her mind and only told Serena. There was no reason why she should have told me, after all. I wasn’t the hostess.”

Philip didn’t think she was lying. Portia appeared to be genuinely upset about that evening. “Portia, please. Promise me you won’t interfere in my relationships. I want to prove to Rose that we can be seen together without it being awkward. I also want to prove to the ton that the end of our affair was mutual and amicable, and that I am definitely not hunting for a wife.”

“But if you were, would Rose be on the list? I’d hate to think you were a prig and had excluded her because of her past. Your own reputation is not precisely lily-white—and Rose does not deserve to be treated like some bit of muslin.”

“Stop it, Portia.” He knew what his conniving sister was doing. She was trying to get him to admit he still had feelings for Rose. Were he ever going to marry, Rose’s name would be the only one on his list. “I know you mean well, but you don’t understand the situation. Please stop. You’ll only end up hurting Rose. And neither of us wants that.”

She must have heard something in his tone, because she sighed. “It’s hard to sit back and watch something so beautiful implode. Especially when I love you both so much.” His mouth firmed. “All right. Although I want to pull caps with you, I shall be a good sister, keep my opinions to myself, and try not to meddle.”

He frowned. “Try?”

She sighed. “Extremely hard.”

It was the best he was going to get. “Thank you.”

“However.” She pinned him with a far-from-friendly look. “One day, when we are both old and gray, you will tell me what happened. And if you don’t have a very good reason for breaking up with Rose, I shall ring a fine peal over you, I give you my word.”

Before he could reply, a few more couples entered the room, and they had to stand to greet them. As Portia drifted off to talk with Beatrice and Marisa, he studied their husbands. They were all carrying on various conversations, but each man was fully aware of his own wife—where she was, if she was happy, whether she was comfortable. They watched their women with pride, with love, with possessiveness, and he had never envied men more in his life.

Philip used to think that God had sent Rose to him that day by Robert’s graveside to save him from his guilt and misery. But He hadn’t. Instead, Rose had been his punishment—to touch what he could never hold, to taste what he could never possess. To understand what loss truly meant.

As he looked at the loving couples around him, he realized the next few days were going to be the hardest of his life.