Loving Lord Ash Read Online Free

was afraid that if he went to her bed, he’d discover that he loved her still.
    He straightened, pulled out his handkerchief, and wiped his mouth. He was making too much of this. His problem was solved simply enough—at least the problem of his aching cock. All he needed was an accommodating bit o’ muslin, a girl who didn’t pretend to be anything other than what she was.
    He’d kept his marriage vows all these years, but now he considered himself well and truly free of them. He’d have a word with Walker, and then, when he got to the inn, he’d see if any of the serving girls were interested in a little bed play. It was long past time he lost his virginity.
    He stood in the chill March air a few more minutes, waiting for his head to clear and his passions to subside—and his nether regions to return to their proper proportions.
    When he met with Walker a few minutes later, he was in strict control of himself. He sat down at the desk, pushing a stack of papers aside . . . papers that carried his wife’s handwriting.
    What were they? Notes to her many lovers?
    He picked one up to read.
    Walker cleared his throat. “My lord, that is Lady Ashton’s correspondence.”
    “I see that.” And Walker was correct. He should not be reading Jess’s letters. It was beneath him.
    This was merely a note to a shopkeeper in London, ordering more painting supplies. Perhaps she kept her personal correspondence—her love letters—in a desk in her room.
    He turned his attention to Walker. “Who the hell is that bounder upstairs?”
    Well, perhaps he wasn’t in strict control of himself.
    Walker turned a bit green about the gills, but at least he didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Roger Bagley, my lord.”
    “Bagley.” That surname sounded vaguely familiar....
    He thought for a moment, his finger tapping the desktop. No, he couldn’t recall where he’d heard it before. Well, if the reprobate had any connection to the nobility, it was probably as a very small twig on a very distant branch of some very minor family. “What is his position here—besides his position in my wife’s bed?”
    Walker went white and braced himself on a chair. “Rog—” He cleared his throat. “That is, Bagley is a footman, my lord.” He swallowed. “And I assure you he has never been in Lady Ashton’s bed.”
    “Do you need a bed to accomplish the deed?”
    Damnation! Would he ever be able to get those words out of his head? Clearly his clever wife could “accomplish the deed” in many inventive ways.
    His blasted nether regions suddenly turned as hard as stone. Thank God he was sitting down.
    “Walker, I may be slow, but I am not an imbecile. A woman doesn’t embrace a naked man simply because the poor fellow has taken a chill.” He grabbed an oddly shaped paperweight off the desk.
    Walker stepped behind the chair he’d been gripping.
    Did the man really think he’d throw the object at him? Ash glanced down to see what kind of weapon he had.
    Zeus! It was the smooth piece of sandstone he’d given Jess when they were children. He remembered the day; they’d been drawing by the lake when he’d found it—
    And that had been many years ago. He dropped the stone. The girl Jess had been—or at least the girl he’d thought she’d been—was long gone. Why in God’s name did she still have the worthless thing? It was only a piece of rock and rather ugly at that.
    “Rog—I mean, Bagley—”
    He looked up at Walker. The man was clutching the back of the chair with both hands now.
    “Bagley was merely posing for Lady Ashton, my lord. She is a painter, you see. She likes to paint Bagley.”
    “I’ll bet she does.”
    Walker shook his head a bit desperately. “She paints all the men, my lord.” He paused, quite likely hearing his words and realizing how they sounded. “That is, there is nothing special about Bagley, my lord.”
    “So you admit my wife has been sharing her favors with the entire staff?”
    Walker looked as if