Page 3 of A Love to Remember
The thought should have made her happy. It didn’t.
She glanced out the large windows and saw the sun low in the sky. “What is the time?” she asked, pushing at Philip’s arm, still pinning her to his side.
“We have time.”
“Time for what?” She giggled as he tightened his hold. “You can’t possibly have that much stamina.”
They’d been in his bed since her arrival 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 their third bout of lovemaking, her body was numbly sated and she needed a bath.
He lifted her hair and pressed a kiss to her neck. “I have missed you, darling. It’s been eight weeks since I saw you. Eight long weeks.”
Verylong weeks. “I missed you, too. But Lord Kirkwood didn’t need my reputation shoved in his face while he was in London visiting Drake.”
Drake was her five-year-old son. The Duke of Roxborough. The only person she loved more than Philip.
Philip snorted inelegantly. “Kirkwood knows we are lovers. Hell, the wholetonknows.”
The Marquess of Kirkwood had been Rose’s husband’sandher father’s best friend. Luckily for her, the late Duke of Roxborough had named him guardian of Drake.
Luckily for her because he was a kind man. He had always thought it wrong that she had been married off at such a young age to a man old enough to be her grandfather, so he tended to be lenient when it came to her behavior. But while he indulged her need to be free, Lord Kirkwood controlled every aspect of Drake’s life. Kirkwood had a son of his own, Francis, and he was a bit on the wild side. It was as if Kirkwood wanted to ensure he did not make the same mistakes with Drake.
Of course, he consulted with her. But ultimately, he was the one making decisions both as trustee of the Roxborough estate and as Drake’s guardian.
Yes, Kirkwood knew about her relationship with Philip, and he, like the rest of theton,wondered why Philip had not yet proposed.
“There’s a difference between suspicion and incontrovertible proof,” Rose said. “He can deny the rumors if he doesn’t witness any scandalous behavior.”
One day, she knew, Kirkwood would order her to settle down. Probably apply gentle pressure to force her to select another husband. She’d fight that battle when it came.
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. She had certainly not tired ofhim.
Surely the fact that she had not ended their affair, as she normally did after a few months with a paramour, must have told Philip what was in her heart. Or did he believe the tale she’d spun to thetonthat she never intended to remarry? Worse, did he not see her as worthy of marriage? If she’d ever imagined she had a chance of winning Philip’s heart, she would never have cultivated such a wicked reputation.
Her reputation, while no worse than his—definitelyno worse than his—counted against her. Men tended to want their wives chaste, virginal, and young. She was none of those things. How she hated that damnable double standard.
She told her heart not to expect more from Philip. The only reason they’d become lovers in the first place was because of his grief. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that, two years later, he would still need her. Still want her. As far as she was aware, he had no other mistress or lover.
But a man never married his mistress. An earl certainly did not.
She rolled over to face him. Simply looking at him still took her breath away. Bright blue eyes framed in a face of artistic angles and aristocratic lines, lips full and inviting, and deep auburn hair glinting copper in the sunlight. He could make her wet with a simple smile.
“Sebastian and Beatrice arrive tonight with Drake,” she said, trying to sound practical instead of needy. “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 her reputation had not kept them from staying with Philip and bringing their wives and children with them.
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 wave me goodbye by then.”
She made her tone both light and teasing, hoping he’d deny the possibility. He didn’t, and she felt absurdly hurt.
She should have been pleased that he wanted to spend time with her—and she was—but it almost sounded as if he resented her son’s imminent arrival.
That was just too bad. She would not let her affair with Philip distance her from Drake. Her son came first. The only reason he was traveling with Sebastian and Beatrice was because Drake and Henry, Sebastian’s ward, were about the same age, firm friends, and wanted to make the journey together.
It had been Beatrice’s suggestion that Rose leave three days ahead of them. It was rare for Rose to spend uninterrupted time with Philip, especially once the Season ended. He’d leave London to attend to his estate in Devon. She was expected to spend time at the Roxborough seat in Cornwall, and although Cornwall was not far from Devon, she could not openly call on him unless Portia was in residence.
Sadly, since Portia’s marriage to Grayson Devlin, Viscount Blackwood, she did not return to her family home nearly enough, in Rose’s opinion. Now a brand-new mother, Portia would travel even more infrequently and Rose’s excursions to Flagstaff Castle would be rare.
