Loving Lord Ash by Sally Mackenzie

grave.” O’Brien, her father and their head groom, the best horseman in the county, had broken his neck going over a jump just days before.
    She narrowed her eyes. “I know that. Why do you think I—” She pressed her lips tightly together.
    Zeus, had she been holding on to her virginity so as not to embarrass her father? He’d heard she was a bit of a flirt and that some of the footmen and male guests had stolen kisses, but he’d never completely believed the whisperings—she’d certainly never flirted with him—and even so, he’d never thought she’d go beyond kisses.
    He was a naive idiot.
    “I’m surprised you knew about my father,” she said now.
    Did she sound hurt? “Of course I knew. My father told me as soon as I got home.”
    “Oh? I thought—” She bit her lip again. “Never mind.”
    “You thought what?”
    “That you would have come to see me.” Her voice was a bit shrill; her dog lifted his head at the sound and gave a muted woof. “Though of course you were much too busy, and I was only a groom’s daughter.”
    He felt a twinge of guilt. He’d wanted to seek her out. He’d been shocked by her father’s death, and he knew—or he’d thought—she’d be distraught. Her mother had died when she was very young, before she’d come to the castle, and she’d always been very close to her father.
    But Mama had been having one of her matchmaking house parties, and Lady Charlotte, the daughter of the Duke of Delton, had stuck to him like a burr. It hadn’t been until the next afternoon that he’d been able to free himself of her dogged pursuit and slip off to the cottage he and Jess used as a studio, and then Morton, who fancied himself an artist, had invited himself along. To make matters even worse, Alfred happened upon them just as Ash was opening the cottage door. Jess and Percy had had quite the audience.
    Oh, God . Every time he remembered that scene, his stomach twisted.
    There’d been no hope of hushing up the scandal. Morton might not have mentioned it—Jess was only a groom’s daughter—but Alfred would have spread the tale far and wide. The footman was as bad as the worst London gossip. Ash had made it clear he was not to breathe a word of what he’d seen, but he wasn’t certain the man could hold his tongue for long.
    Not that he should have cared. Jess deserved everything she got. But . . .
    If word had got round, she would not have been able to find a husband or get a position, even if Mama would give her a reference, which he hadn’t been entirely sure she would. Jess would have been alone and unprotected.
    Which had been no reason for him to sacrifice himself to save her, damn it.
    “I did come see you—and look what I saw you doing.”
    She flinched as if he’d hit her—and then her jaw hardened.
    “It was more than a day after you arrived home.” She looked over at her dog again. “Not that it mattered.”
    “I had responsibilities.” He didn’t need to explain himself to her.
    “Yes. Of course. Your mother’s guests.”
    Good God, was she trying to make him think that her spreading her legs for Percy was somehow his fault?
    He should have washed his hands of her, but she was his friend and, yes, he’d loved her. She’d looked defiant and angry that day, but also lost, standing there with her hair falling out of its pins and her clothes awry. And he’d seen something he’d never seen before in her eyes—fear and despair. He’d offered for her without thinking.
    And see where it had got him? Married to a woman who was no better than a whore. Was there a man within a ten-mile radius of the manor that she hadn’t graced with her favors?
    “Why did you do it, Jess? Why did you let Percy touch you?”
    She flushed. “I thought Percy loved me.”
    “Percy?” He laughed. “Come, madam, you must know Percy loves no one but himself.”
     
     
    She did know it.
    No, that wasn’t true. She’d thought Percy cared for her. It might not have been