Loving Lord Ash (26 page)

He smiled and nodded. “Very. I was the prodigal son returned. Apparently she’s been rather worried.”

“Of course she’s been worried.” He’d written his mother only sporadically in the years he’d been at the manor, usually at Jess’s urging. “You are her child, her firstborn. She loves you.”

He shrugged. “I suppose she does.”

“Of course she does.”

Would
she
ever have a child to love?

Only if she came to some agreement with Kit.

She’d never thought much about children. What was the point when her husband was miles away and detested her? She’d never had much experience with children or family, either. As long as she could remember, it had been just her father and her.

She’d envied Kit his family. He had his parents and his brothers, and they seemed to genuinely like each other, no matter how much they might tease and argue. And now his family was expanding with sisters-in-law and a niece or nephew on the way. Perhaps, if she gave Kit a son, they would accept her, too.

The swans saw them approaching and hurried off to the other side of the Serpentine, so she let Fluff off his lead. He bounded into the water.

“Looking at him splashing about like that,” Roger said, “you’d never guess he hates baths.”

She laughed. “Perhaps his distaste actually stemmed from your poor singing. Apparently he was transfixed by the Greycliffe footmen’s duet yesterday and was as meek as a lamb in the tub.” She looked back at William, who’d run down the hill once Roger had arrived and was now hovering only steps away. “Fluff’s going to need another bath I’m afraid, William.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Now what was the matter? He was scowling at her quite ferociously. Perhaps he didn’t want to have to bathe Fluff again. And he really was standing far too close. Roger was always extremely careful about what he said, but it would be disastrous if she should slip up and give some hint of his secret proclivities. “Wait here and hold Lord Trendal’s horse, will you, William? We wish to go closer to the water.”

Good heavens, William’s expression grew even darker. He looked like a thundercloud—an extremely disapproving thundercloud.

“Yes, my lady.”

“You know you’ll have some explaining to do when you see your husband,” Roger said once they were well out of William’s earshot.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m quite certain William suspects we’ve arranged a lovers’ tryst.”

“Oh, surely not.” She looked back again. If it were physically possible, darts would be flying from William’s eyes to lodge in her chest. “Oh, dear, I believe you are correct. That’s likely what he’ll tell Kit. Do you suppose I can persuade him to hold his tongue?”

“Not a chance. If you suggest it, you will look very guilty indeed.”

“Damnation.”

He patted her hand. “I take it things do not go well with Lord Ashton?”

She did not wish to discuss Kit with Roger. “Things are still uncertain. Was your brother as angry at your welcome as the prodigal son’s brother?”

He raised his brows, but let her change the subject. “Not at all. Archie was delighted to see me. He’s taken good care of things in my absence, as I was certain he would, and he’s on the verge of getting betrothed to a lovely young woman.” He smiled. “I think he suspects what I am, yet seems not to think me a demon. I will probably take him into my confidence shortly. It’s only fair he know the title will come to him or to his son eventually.”

“Yes, I suppose you are right.” Fluff had finally tired of running in and out of the water. He shook himself off and came over to flop down in the grass by her feet.

“I believe I am.” He looked at her.

Blast, he was going to start in on Kit again. She bent over to pat Fluff.

“Frankly I’m shocked to see you here,” he said to the back of her head. “I would have thought you’d go to Greycliffe Castle. Ashton doesn’t frequent London, but he must know Town is the very worst place to be if you have any secrets.”

She straightened, but kept her gaze on Fluff. “We thought the duke and duchess were still in the country. Even I know His Grace hates London.”

“That’s very true. I discovered the story at White’s last night. Apparently there was some scandal with Jack—not that there isn’t always some scandal with Jack—but this time it was more serious, so Greycliffe and Her Grace came up to help resolve the issue.” He laughed. “And the resolution included a wedding.”

She looked at him then. “A happy wedding. Jack and his wife are staying at Greycliffe House, too. They seem very much in love.” If only her own scandal could have ended in such harmony, but she’d wager her scandal had been far, far worse than anything Jack and Frances had been involved in.

“Which reminds me.” He grinned. “Did you read the
Love Notes
?”

She flushed. “Damnation, Roger, what did you mean by putting those sheets in my bag?”

His grin widened. “The Duchess of Love is very wise, Jess. Read them and see for yourself.”

She bent down to put Fluff ’s lead back on. “I wish I’d known I was going to run into you today. I could have brought them and given them back to you.” She was not about to admit any interest in Kit’s mother’s marital writings, especially to Roger.

“Humor me and read them. You’ll thank me eventually.”

“Oh! You are absurd. I—”

“Look who’s here!”

Bloody hell, she recognized
that
voice. It had echoed in too many of her nightmares.

She looked up to see Percy coming toward them on a big black horse, Mr. Huntington riding a chestnut at his side.

She’d not seen Percy since he’d made his ill-advised visit to the manor shortly after she’d arrived, and she’d gone after him with a fireplace poker. The years hadn’t been kind to him. Dissipation clung to him like the musty smell of an old, long-closed trunk.

“Huntington here told me you’d left the manor, Jess,” Percy said, “but I didn’t expect to see you in Town.” He looked at Roger. “Are you going to introduce us to your companion?”

Oh, dear. Percy might not have seen Roger before, but Huntington must have. He went to the local taverns and the cockfights where the gentry rubbed elbows with the local servants.

Roger stepped into the silence her panic had created and bowed slightly. “Lord Trendal at your service, gentlemen.”

His voice broke her paralysis. If Roger could be calm, so could she. And, thank God, Huntington seemed not to have recognized him. “Oh, please excuse me, Lord Trendal. May I present Sir Percy Headley and Mr. George Huntington?”

Percy nodded at Roger, but then his attention returned to her. “I didn’t realize you had friends in London, Jess. How very . . . interesting. Does your husband know you are sauntering through the park with this fellow?”

She opened her mouth to blister Percy’s damn ears, but Roger spoke before she could.

“And do you know that your tone is insulting, sirrah?” His voice could cut glass. “You seem to be insinuating that Lady Ashton is doing something improper.”

She was happy to see Percy turn a shade or two whiter.

“No offense meant, of course. Jess is a childhood friend. I would hate to see her take a wrong step so soon after her arrival in Town.”

Ha! Now there was a whisker if ever she’d heard one. “Don’t worry, Percy. I was out walking my dog with one of the Greycliffe footmen”—she nodded toward William—“when we encountered Lord Trendal quite by chance.”

“I . . . see.”

Ooh, she’d love to punch the slimy blackguard. His words were unexceptional, but his tone was not. She felt Roger bristle.

“Lord Trendal.” Huntington looked as if he’d suddenly recognized the name—but still not the face, thank heavens. “I remember now. You’re the ‘Missing Baron’ everyone was talking about at the clubs last night.”

Roger bowed again. “The ton does like to make a fuss about so many silly things, does it not? I’ve merely been traveling while my brother saw to the estate.”

Percy waggled his brows. “One wonders where you encountered Jess.”

Damnation. “I’ll thank you not to wonder—not to
think
—about me at all, Percy. What I do is none of your concern.”

“And there is nothing to wonder about.” Roger sounded delightfully haughty. “I stopped by Blackweith Manor very briefly in my travels, of course.” He offered Jess his arm. “Now I believe Lady Ashton is ready to return to Greycliffe House.”

“Yes, indeed. I’m suddenly not enjoying the park as much as I had been.”

Roger gave her a warning look before nodding at the men. “If you’ll excuse us?”

“Yes, of course.” Percy laughed. “Jess always was quite tetchy.”

Oh, she’d show him tetchy. She’d get Fluff to charge the horses and—

Roger put his hand over hers and squeezed warningly. “Shall we go?”

“Yes.” She tugged on Fluff ’s lead. “Good day, gentlemen.”

She and Roger—and Fluff and William—turned and headed back toward Greycliffe House.

“Zeus,” she muttered so only Roger could hear. “Weren’t you afraid Huntington would recognize you?”

“Not at all.” He smiled at William, who was still glowering at him, though not with quite the same ferocity. He must have approved of how Roger had handled Percy and Huntington. “I’m going to walk with Lady Ashton, William, to be certain she isn’t disturbed again.”

“Very good, my lord.”

“I’m sure that’s not necessary.”

“Don’t argue, Jess. You’re merely wasting your breath.”

“Oh, very well.” They started up the hill, leaving William huffing behind them. She wasn’t finished with Roger anyway. “Why weren’t you afraid you’d be discovered?”

“Because the nobility and gentry never actually look at servants; they look through them,” he said. “And they judge people by their clothing. I’m dressed as a lord, so of course that’s what I am. I’ll wager not a single member of the ton would believe you if you told them I’d been your footman.”

“But aren’t you—” Jess stopped. She heard a dog barking up ahead. She couldn’t see it yet, but it was coming closer. Fluff woofed in response and pulled on his lead. Oh, dear. She did hope they weren’t in for a dog fight....

No, thank goodness. It was Shakespeare. He appeared at the top of the rise with Kit.

Kit did not look happy. He scowled at them as he strode down the hill, keeping pace with Shakespeare. His eyes slid past her to focus on Roger.

Kit looked as though he was contemplating murder—if he didn’t suffer an apoplexy first.

“Well,” Roger murmured, “perhaps there is
one
member of the ton who will recognize me.”

Bloody hell!
The naked footman was in London. He was tricked out in gentlemanly attire, but Ash would recognize those dark, cocky eyes anywhere.

Cocky...

His eyes dropped without his conscious bidding to the bounder’s fall. At least the damn reprobate’s male organ wasn’t advertising its enthusiasm for Jess—

Unless it wasn’t announcing its presence because it had already enjoyed its sport?

Zeus! He drew in a lungful of the chill spring air as he tried to beat back the red madness that threatened to overcome him. Think! They were in one of the most exposed sections of Hyde Park, and William was with them. They had a dog and a horse. They could not possibly have engaged in sexual congress.

Could they?

“Lord Ashton.” The blackguard bowed. “I don’t believe we were properly introduced when we met before. I am Lord Trendal.”

Ash managed to nod in acknowledgment. Speech was still beyond his capabilities. He glanced at Jess. She looked worried, damn it. What had they been doing?

He could ask William. William would tell him if they’d been . . .

He took another deep breath. The scoundrel was still talking, looking damnably at ease, even smiling in a friendly sort of way.

He’d show the bloody vermin friendly.

“I just arrived in London the day before yesterday and was delighted—and surprised—to stumble upon your charming wife when I was out for my ride this morning.”

Ash grunted, but it sounded even to his own ears more like a growl. Jess made a small sound of distress, and William straightened, ready to defend the Greycliffe honor, no doubt, even as he still held the miscreant’s horse. Even Shakespeare and Fluff stopped sniffing each other to look at him.

The only one who seemed completely unaffected was Trendal.

“I must tell you, however,” Trendal said, “that we just encountered two men who I feel very strongly do not have your wife’s best interests at heart.”

“And you do?” The words were almost ripped from his throat.

Trendal looked him straight in the eye and said calmly, “Yes, I do. Jess—Lady Ashton—and I have been friends for years. I care about her as a friend—as a
sister,
if you will.”

Ash almost said something extremely crude, but managed to hold his tongue. There was something strangely convincing about Trendal’s words.

“As your wife will explain to you later.”

Jess frowned. “But, Roger—”

“No, Jess. Lord Ashton needs to know about me and about Blackweith Manor.”

What was this? Had the manor turned into a brothel, then? “What about the manor?”

Jess and Trendal ignored him.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes. It’s time. Things can’t remain as they are; everyone knows that.” Trendal laughed. “Or at least all the men who have any sense know it.”

Good God, had Jess indeed slept with all the servants? Or was she running some odd sort of reverse whorehouse, where women paid men to perform? “What the
hell
are you two talking about?”

He was shouting now, damn it. He’d made the dogs start whining. Their tails dropped between their legs.

He took another deep breath, drawing the air in through his nose and letting it out through his mouth. “Pardon me. I should not have raised my voice.”

“No, you should not have—”

Trendal put his hand on Jess’s arm, stopping her. “Lady Ashton, your husband’s concern is completely understandable. Don’t let your temper get in the way of your good sense—or of what you truly want.”

All right, so perhaps Trendal didn’t deserve to be beaten to a bloody pulp . . . yet.