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But Ace found he hated the man. The Earl was going to marry the woman Ace adored—the only woman Ace had ever lost his heart to—yet he did not even appreciate his good fortune. Instead, he sought every opportunity to break the girl’s courageous spirit. Ace could gladly have killed him for it.
But did Lady Josephine appreciate his devotion to her? No! He was lucky he still had a job with the Duke, after letting his temper show so badly.A bodyguard should be cold and calculating,he thought.Otherwise, he puts himself and the person he is guarding at greater risk.
As oftentimes happens, when tensions finally came to a head between Ace and Lady Josephine, it was over a very small matter.
Ace was in the kitchen, having his evening meal with the other servants. Mary was describing to him the family relationship between her mother’s people and Paddy’s clan. “Isn’t it a wonder, that out of all the people in London, we should chance upon each other, we being distant kin to each other?”
It put Polly’s nose out of joint to see Mary get so much conversational attention from the handsome Mr. Smith, who tended to show no interest in kitchen maids. “It’s well known the Irish are inbred—too much marrying of cousins and the like,” Polly said unpleasantly.
Mary defended herself. “Sure, it’s common enough in the English aristocracy too. Lady Josephine was just saying to me the other day that many of the Clovers had wedded their kinfolk in olden times.”
“I wouldn’t rely much on any advice that woman might give you about moral behavior, a woman who sleeps with her own manservants,” Polly replied sanctimoniously.
“Polly! Kindly remember it is the mistress of this house you are speaking of! You must show proper respect.” Mr. McTavish looked shocked at Polly’s open betrayal of Lady Josephine, after her solemn promise to the butler. “And in any case, what you say is not true.”
“I’d hesitate to call you a liar, Mr. McTavish. But the fact is we both walked in on them, you and I. What I say is true, and you know it. I can’t respect a woman like that, I don’t care if she’s a duchess or a queen.” Polly tossed her head, and her eyes flashed in defiant triumph.
“Excuse me,” Ace said, rising from the table. He could not listen to another word of this. He must leave the room before his temper exploded.
Is it true? McTavish would certainly be willing to cover up for Josie—he’s known her since she was a little child. But Polly as good as called him a liar for it.
Ace thought of how Josie had behaved that night in the park in London. She had been so passionate and hot-blooded, despite her lack of experience. He had never been with a girl who so badly wanted to be satisfied sexually.
So had she found that satisfaction with some other low-born fellow since she returned to Clover House? While he had been burning for her, worshiping her like some untouchable mythological goddess, had she been getting her cheap pleasure from someone else?
He needed to know. He couldn’t rest until he confronted her.
Who was it? One of the footmen? A groom in her father’s stables?He would go mad if she would not tell him. Who had robbed him, who had supplanted him in claiming her maidenhood?
He stormed up the stairs to Lady Josephine’s chambers, almost blind with rage. She was seated before her dressing table in a white silken peignoir, with her long, wavy hair loose to her waist. For once, she was alone, without any lady’s maids attending her.
“Mr. Smith,” she said in surprise.
So she was maintaining the formality of their relationship, was she? Well, it will do her no good.“Who is he? I want his name, so I can speak it when I kill him.”
“Have you gone mad, to come bursting into my rooms and speaking this way to me? What on earth is the matter with you?”
“I want his name. Now.”
“Whose name?”
“Don’t play with me, ‘Josie,’” he said quietly. “I well remember the heat of your passion when we embraced in that London park months ago. I heard tonight that, since then, you have been indulging your taste for low-bred men right here in Clover House. I want to know the name of the man you slept with.”
“Who would say such a terrible thing about me?”
“I’ll tell you, if you must know. It was Polly who let it slip that you have a taste for sleeping with manservants—and McTavish couldn’t deny the truth of what she said, much as he tried to cover for you. So come now—give me his name, so I will know whose back I need to stab with my knife before this night is over.”
Surprisingly, she looked very calm—even amused—when he told her Polly’s story.Finds it funny, does she? Was there ever such a cold-hearted woman?
“All right, Mr. Smith, I will give you the name of the man I lay with. It was Ashton Smith.” And she smiled at him with such sweetness that he could hardly bear it.
“I don’t understand,” he said weakly. “What do you mean?”
“When you were injured—when you were dosed every night with laudanum and unlikely to waken until morning—I used to sneak up to your room and sit with you for hours. I would hold your hand and comfort you. I liked to believe that perhaps in your drug-induced dreams, you would hear my words of love and you would hold on to life for my sake.”
“But I did hear you! I used to dream all the time that you were with me….”
“Because I was,” she said simply.
