She collapsed onto the bed, and he fell on top of her, unable to move. This was how it should be between lovers. Both sated. Both exhausted. But he wanted so much more.
To be sated and exhausted not with Delilah his lover, but Delilah his duchess.
Bennett closed his eyes. Did he yearn for the impossible? She was a successful and independent woman, with her own fortune.
What could he offer that she truly desired?
Chapter 8
“A bath for two in this enormous tub feels almost too decadent.”
Delilah smiled at Ben’s murmured words, entirely in charity with the world as she lay on his chest, fully immersed in steaming hot water sprinkled with herbal salts. After a whole night in bed, their mutual lust seemingly insatiable, her body certainly welcomed such a restorative act. “Too decadent for a duke? Surely that is impossible.”
“Ah, but I’m not like other dukes.”
“Correct. You are the only handsome one. Well, apart from Wellington, who has a certain appeal that comes with victory.”
“As long as you look but don’t touch. I really don’t want a dawn appointment with a well-seasoned British war hero; there is a small chance I might be defeated.”
She giggled. “Never. Not with me as your second. Besides, you also have youthful vigor in your favor.”
“Am I too young?” he asked hesitantly.
“There are only three years between us.”
Ben trailed the soapy washcloth across her stomach. “Far more in experience though. You are a bold, worldly woman; I’m probably the most sheltered duke in England. I feel like I only started to live when I turned twenty-five and could finally make all my own decisions. My trustees taught me a lot about estate management and so forth. But…”
“Those damned trustees have a lot to answer for,” she replied tartly. “I don’t condone young lads running wild, but you need the freedom to make mistakes and learn consequences. Although in Lord Fletcher’s case, he makes all the mistakes and learns nothing. I find it incomprehensible that Lord Hurst practically caged you while his own son, to this day, larks about with the ghastly Carlton House set. I’ve denied all of them membership and the Prince Regent hates me for it.”
He sighed. “You’d be forever chasing Prinny for money. As for Fletcher, he is an only child, born late in life, so does no wrong in Hurst’s eyes. I know the trustees guarded my fortune with great zeal, but I wish my father hadn’t appointed three elderly men. They thought bloody everything was improper, or worse, sinful. Then again, if he had…I might not have met you.”
Delilah pointed her toe and traced a pattern on his left foot. “It vexes me that I have something to thank Fletcher for. His wife has my deepest sympathies. In saying that, perhaps she is quite content with the arrangement. I’ve already made my thoughts plain on the ridiculousness of cold aristocratic marriages.”
“You think peers should marry for love.”
“I think everyone should.”
“Even a duke and say…a pleasure club madam?” asked Bennett quietly.
She froze at the too-casual words. Her duke did not indulge in idle chatter. To have a husband and life companion who understood and admired her, who wanted Delilah rather than a bank account or the Mistress of Sin, would be beyond her wildest dreams. And yet he couldn’t be seriously contemplating marriage. When Charles Fox wed Mrs. Armistead, it remained the talk of the town for years. Granted, Ben was a high-ranking peer rather than a high-ranking politician, but it would still be an enormous scandal. Women like her might be mistress to a duke, however they were rarely a wife.
“Ben—”
A sharp knock at the door interrupted her.
“Not now!” she shouted.
But the knock came again, longer and even louder.
“For the love of God,” Delilah snapped, gripping the sides of the tub and hauling herself to her feet. “The Temple better be ablaze. Do not move, my duke. I shall be right back.”
Hastily drying herself with a linen towel then snatching up her quilted robe, Delilah donned it as she stalked to the connecting door and opened it a few inches. “Yes?”
“Beg pardon, ma’am,” said the maid, hopping from one foot to the other. “I know you are enjoying some private time. But downstairs is in an uproar.”
“Why?” asked Delilah, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“Today’s scandal sheet. Look.”
Her heart plummeted to her toes at the headlines.
HIS GRACE DISGRACED
Duke of T Corrupted by London’s Mistress of Sin
Friends Lament Shocking Violence and Debauchery
“Oh God,” she whispered.
“That’s not all, ma’am,” said the maid miserably. “Lady Judith and Lord Preston are waiting to see you. We didn’t want to bring them up to your parlor if they are unwelcome, so put them in the gaming hell. But that drunk from yesterday, Lord Fletcher, is here too. And his father, Lord Hurst. They want satisfaction for Lord Fletcher’s...um...injuries.”
Bitter frustration clawed her. Of course this would happen after a perfect night with Ben: a situation that couldn’t be ignored. “Ha. Satisfaction meaning groveling apologies and a bank draft. I can guess who the newspaper ‘friend’ is as well.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Taking a deep breath for composure, Delilah smiled briskly at the maid. “One more favor, then you may go to the kitchens and enjoy tea and cake. Run downstairs and fetch that clerk costume for His Grace to wear again. His own clothing requires laundering.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the young woman, before hurrying away.
She trudged back to the bathing area, scandal sheet in hand, practically drooping further with each step. “I’m afraid you’ll also have to get out of the bath.”
Ben looked at her, his gaze wary. “The Temple is ablaze? Or are you throwing me out again?”
“Neither. This,” she replied, showing him the scandal sheet.
“Bloody hell,” he snarled, splashing water onto the floor as he jerked to his feet and climbed out of the tub. “I shouldn’t have punched that friend in the stomach, I should have dressed him in armor and hurled him into the Thames.”
“Forgive me—”
“This is not your fault.”
“I declined his application. I should add that Fletcher and Hurst are downstairs and demanding satisfaction for injuries. Your sister and brother-in-law are here as well.”
“Christ.”
“Indeed,” Delilah replied, at a loss. “Perhaps this is the wrong thing to say, but should you require a witness, an accomplice, or an alibi, I am here.”
Naked, dripping with water, Ben pulled her close and kissed her fiercely. She twined her arms about his neck and melted against him, even as she despaired it could be their last embrace. The whole of London knew about their affair now, and members of his family were furious enough to storm the building at an impolite hour…
A knock interrupted them again, and she forced herself to step back, before rushing to the door. Ben’s change of clothing had been delivered.
He raised an eyebrow. “I am to be a clerk again?”