Philip left at dawn the following morning, and had a chance to think things out while riding through the countryside.
Why hadn’t Christina come back and told him when she learned she was carrying his child? Had she been too proud? And what of John? She must not have told her brother, or John would have called him out when they met in Cairo.
Well, John would soon know the truth. Philip wondered how he would take the news, for they had become good friends during their journey back to England. He also wondered how Christina would react when he showed up unexpectedly. She obviously hadn’t wanted him to learn of his son. Or had she? Had she gone to Victory so that he would find out?
She was going to keep and raise the child. If she hated him, why keep his son to constantly remind her of him? Perhaps she actually cared for him! If only he had told her he loved her.
If only he hadn’t waited to hear her say it first. Well, he would tell her this time, just as soon as he saw her.
CHRISTINA HAD SPENT the entire morning trying to avoid Estelle. She couldn’t bear the happiness in the girl’s eyes, knowing that she loved Philip. Now it was late afternoon, and Kareen and Estelle had gone to Halstead to do some shopping while John went over the estate books in his study.
The house was quiet. Christina reclined in the drawing room trying to read a book so she could stop thinking about Estelle and Philip. But she kept imagining them together, kissing and holding each other. Damn him!
“Christina, I have to talk to you.” It was Tommy Huntington.
She stood up and walked over to the fireplace, her red-velvet skirt swaying gently.
“I didn’t expect to see you until tonight, Tommy. What’s so important that you’re here early?” Christina asked. She turned her back to him and busied herself rearranging the figurines on the mantel.
“I talked with John this morning. He agrees we should marry. You can’t deny me any longer, Christina. I love you. Will you please marry me?”
Christina sighed heavily. Her answer was going to make everyone happy, everyone but herself. Even Johnsy had been arguing that marriages were made for convenience, not for love, and that it was enough that Master Tommy loved her.
“All right, Tommy, I will marry you. But I can’t guarantee to ever—”
She was going to say “love you,” but the sound of a deep voice stopped her. She turned deathly pale.
“I have been informed that I have a son, madam. Is this true?”
Tommy grasped Christina’s arms violently, but she was too shocked to feel anything. Tommy released her and swung around to face the intruder, leaving her holding the mantel for support. Her legs felt like jelly beneath her.
“Who are you, sir,” Tommy demanded, “and what is the meaning of asking my fiancée if you have a son?”
“I am Philip Caxton. Miss Wakefield may be your intended wife, but this matter does not concern you. I am addressing Christina. And I am waiting for an answer.”
“How dare you!” Tommy raged. “Christina, do you know this man?”
Christina’s mind was in a whirl of confusion. She turned slowly to face Philip, and melted at the sight of him. He hadn’t changed—he was still the man she loved. She wanted to run to him. She wanted to throw her arms about his neck and never let go. But the ugly hate in his eyes and the harsh coldness in his voice stopped her.
“Do I have a son, madam?”
Christina stiffened with fear at the menace in his voice. But then her anger grew. How could he ask about her child so coldly?
“No, Mr. Caxton,” she said “Ihave a son—youdo not!”
“Then let me rephrase my question, Miss Wakefield. Did I sire your son?”
Christina knew there was no way out. Paul must have told him when she gave birth. Philip had calculated for himself and knew she must have conceived by him. Besides, he would need only to look at Philip Junior to know him for his son.
Christina sank into the nearest chair, averting her gaze from the two men awaiting her answer.
“Christina, is this true? Is this man the father of your child?” Tommy choked.
“It’s true, Tommy,” Christina whispered.
“Howdareyou come here, Mr. Caxton?” Tommy demanded.
“I’m here for my son, and I suggest you not interfere!”
