Addicted to the Duke (Imperfect Lords #1)(89)
Philip tumbled sideways on his huge bed, pulling her with him so she landed curled into his side. He was still panting from his exertions. She was struggling to get her own breathing under control too.
They’d been in this bed since she’d arrived at lunchtime. Philip hadn’t even let her recover from her journey. He’d wanted her with a ferocity that excited and warmed her. After the third bout of lovemaking, her body was numbly sated and she needed a bath.
She glanced out of the large windows and noted the sun was getting low. “What is the time?” she asked, pushing at Philip’s arm still pinning her to his side.
“We have time.”
“Time for what? You can’t possibly have that much stamina.” She giggled.
He lifted her hair and pressed a kiss to her neck. “I have missed you, darling. It’s been six weeks since I saw you.”
“I missed you too, but Lord Kirkwood, while tolerant of the way I wish to live my life, didn’t need to have my reputation shoved in his face while he was in London visiting Drake.”
Drake was her seven-year-old son, the Duke of Roxborough. The only person she loved more than Philip.
“Kirkwood knows we are lovers; hell, the whole ton knows.”
He knows and he’s wondering why you have not proposed to me, Rose said to herself. “Knowing and having to see the evidence are two different things. He can deny the rumors if he doesn’t witness scandalous behavior.”
Lord Kirkwood, the Marquess of Blenheim, had been her husband’s and her father’s best friend, hence he was more lenient when it came to her behavior. He always thought it wrong that she had been married off at such a young age to a man old enough to be her father, if not grandfather. He indulged her need to be free, but Lord Kirkwood controlled every aspect of Drake’s life. He consulted with her, but ultimately he was the one who would make the decisions as trustee of the Roxborough estate as well as being Drake’s guardian.
She knew that one day Kirkwood would order her to settle down, and he would force her to select another husband. But she’d fight that battle when it happened.
Perhaps marriage would be bearable if Philip was that man. They had been lovers for two years and he didn’t seem to be tiring of her, nor she of him.
Surely the fact that she had not ended their affair, as she normally did after a few months with a paramour, told Philip what was in her heart. Or did he believe the tale she spun about never wishing to remarry? Or worse, did he not deem her marriage material? Her reputation—while no worse than his, definitely no worse than his—counted against her because, of course, for women there was a double standard.
If she’d known she might have had a chance of winning Philip’s heart, she would never have cultivated such a wicked reputation. Men tended to like their wives chaste and young. Two strikes against her suitability.
Besides, men never married their mistresses. She kept telling her heart not to expect more from Philip. The only reason they became lovers at all was because of his grief. She could not bear to see his suffering, so she had seduced him the night of the funeral. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that two years later he would still need her. As far as she was aware, he had no other mistress or lover.
She rolled to face him. Philip was so handsome that he always took her breath away: bright blue eyes framed in a face of artistic angles and aristocratic lines, lips that were full and inviting, and deep auburn hair that glinted copper in the sunlight. He could make her wet with a simple smile.
“Sebastian and Beatrice are arriving tonight, and don’t forget they are bringing my son, Drake, too. We should get ready to greet them. Christian and Serena, Marisa and Maitland and their children will arrive tomorrow.” Sebastian Hawkestone, the Marquis of Coldhurst; Maitland Spencer, the Duke of Lyttleton; and Christian Trent, the Earl of Markham, were three of Philip’s closest friends, and Rose was grateful that they were happy to stay with their wives as well as their children, knowing she was present.
Philip pressed more kisses over her bare shoulder. “Damn your bloody carriage losing a wheel. I wanted you to myself for a few days, instead all I get is an afternoon.”
“I’m as disappointed as you, darling, but we still have three weeks together with our friends. You’ll likely be keen to see the back of me by then,” she teased, waiting for him to deny her statement, but alas no reply.
At least she should be pleased that he wanted to spend time with her, but it almost sounded as if he resented the fact her son was arriving. Drake came first. She would not let her affair with Philip distance her from him. The only reason her son was traveling with Sebastian and Beatrice was Drake wanted to journey with Henry. Sebastian’s ward was about the same age as Drake and the two were firm friends.
In addition, Beatrice kindly suggested Rose leave three days before the others to give her and Philip time alone. Very rarely did Rose get to spend quality time with Philip, especially once the season finished. He would leave London to attend to his estate in Devon, while she was expected to spend time at the Roxborough seat in Cornwall. Although Devon was not far from Cornwall, she could not openly call on him unless Portia was in residence. Since Portia’s marriage to Grayson Devlin, Viscount Blackwood, meant she did not return to her family home nearly enough, and now she’d recently given birth, Rose’s excursions to Flagstaff Castle would likely be nil for the rest of the year.