“As if I were like my father, chasing and ruining every pretty young thing that crossed his path.” Philip bristled at the thought and wondered if hewaslike his father.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Your face did.” Philip downed the contents of his glass and reached to pour himself another. “I had not long returned from war. The manor was in disarray. My sister was unruly, my grandmother indifferent to the chaos, my father’s ghost still lingering. I was full of fury, of the things I had seen, and how meaningless everything else was when men were dying every day on battlefields that I had been sent to and then snatched from.
“Against all odds, I found purpose there. I was worth something with a musket in my hand and brothers-in-arms around me. Then, I came back, and I was… just a duke, handed a title that doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things, expected to act in a way I hadn’t in years.”
“You don’t have to explain, Philip,” Zachary said gently, a flicker of worry in his eyes.
“Everything was so frivolous and difficult, and I thought I would go mad,” Philip continued anyway. “I needed a distraction, and Mary was there—willing, warm, comforting, a remedy to my rage. She understood what it was, but then…”
“Selina came?”
Philip nodded. “I had no intention of continuing things with Mary. She and I hadn’t lain together in some time anyway, but Selina learned of it, and I knew what I had to do. I don’t want to hurt her ever.”
“I think that is a good sign,” Zachary said encouragingly. “A sign of a happy union to come.”
Philip sank back and sipped his refreshed drink more conservatively. “It truly isn’t about revenge. I am not certain it ever was. For a moment, maybe, but… I don’t care about that wretched man anymore. All I hope is that he is suffering in hell. He has no place in my future, and I want my future to be withher.”
“But… what about children?” There was a wariness in Zachary’s voice, the hesitation of someone who feared they were about to have their head bitten off.
Philip shook his head.
“The maid was right about that?” Zachary pressed with caution.
With a sad smile, Philip nodded. “I won’t risk it.”
“Does Selina know?”
“No, and now I am uncertain if it is too late to tell her,” Philip replied. “When this began, I anticipated a marriage of convenience. Separate lives. An easier path to a life without children.”
“Youshouldtell her,” Zachary advised. “She deserves to be allowed to make her own choice.”
The whiskey tasted bitter in Philip’s mouth. “I know that.”
But I don’t know how.
He swallowed another mouthful, feeling it burn in his stomach.
How can I tell her without losing her?
He had already lost enough, but perhaps he should have known that his luck was only temporary. A trick to allow him a glimpse of a happy life before it was snatched away. A last punishment from his father from beyond the grave.
