The Heir (23 page)

He’d had few suggestions regarding the decorative schemes, predictably. “Avoid purple, if you please,” or “no flights of Egyptian fancy. My sisters are imaginative enough as it is.” He liked simple, cheerful, comfortable arrangements, which suited Anna just fine. They were easy to assemble, clean, and maintain, and better still, easy to live in.

And if she felt a pang of envy that some other woman, one dear to Westhaven, was going to be doing the living at Willow Bend, she smothered it. She smothered her anxieties regarding her grandmother’s warning and set to bargaining with herself fiercely instead: I’ll work on the Willow Bend interiors until the letters arrive from the agencies. I’ll enjoy the earl’s attentions until I have to leave. I’ll leave Morgan in peace until I know for certain when and where we’re going…

Her life, it seemed, had degenerated into a series of unenforceable bargains made with herself, while the business of the household moved along heedlessly.

The Windham males had taken to hacking in the park early in the morning, with Pericles sometimes escorting two of the younger stock or taking a day to enjoy his stall and hay. The men came back hungry and usually in high spirits.

When Devlin St. Just had moved in, he’d brought
an ability to tease with him, and it was infectious. With only the earl and Lord Val in residence, it was as if their shared grief had pushed out all but the driest humor. With Dev underfoot, bad puns, jokes, ribbing, and sly innuendo cropped up among all three brothers. To Anna, the irreverent humor was the conversational equivalent of the occasional bouquet in the house. It pleased the eye and brought visual warmth and pleasure to the odd corner or bare table.

Nonetheless, Colonel St. Just watched her with a calculating gleam foreign to either the earl or Lord Val. St. Just was a bastard and half Irish. Either burden would have been a strike against him, but his papa was a duke, and so he was received.

Received, Anna thought, but not welcomed. That difference put a harder edge on St. Just than on either of his brothers. In his own way, he was an outsider, and so Anna wanted to feel some sympathy for him. But his green eyes held such a measure of distance when they looked at her, all she felt was… wary.

Still, he was supportive of the earl, proud of Val’s music, and well liked by the staff. He always cleaned his plate, flirted shamelessly with Nanny Fran, and occasionally sang to Cook in a lilting, lyrical baritone. He was, in a word, charming, even to Morgan, who usually left the room as quickly as she could when he started his blather.

“Hullo, my dear.” The earl strolled into Anna’s sitting room and glanced back at the door as if he wanted to close it.

“Good morning.” Anna rose, smiling despite herself, because here was the handsomest of the Windham
brothers, the heir, and he wanted to marry
her
.
“What brings you to my sitting room on this lovely day?”

“We have household matters to discuss.” His smile dimmed. “May I sit?”

“Shall I fetch the tea tray?” Anna frowned and realized he wanted to settle in, which would not do, for many reasons.

“No, thank you.” The earl took the middle of the settee, extended an arm across the back, and crossed one ankle over the other knee. “How are you coming with the Willow Bend project?”

“I’ve ordered a great deal in the way of draperies, rugs, mirrors, smaller items of furniture, such as night tables, footstools, and so forth,” Anna replied, grateful for a simple topic. “It is going to cost you a pretty penny, I’m warning you, but the results should be very pleasing.”

“Pleasing is good. When will it be ready?”

“Much has already been delivered. The rest should arrive in the next few days. I understood there was some urgency about this project.”

“There is. I want it done before fall, when I’m likely to be dragooned into the shires by my dear papa for some hunting.”

“If you don’t want to go hunting, you’d best arrange something with your brothers, so when Papa issues his summons, you are otherwise occupied.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“And have you gotten right on finding us a butler? Stenson is more in need of stern guidance than ever.”

The earl burst out laughing at that image and shook his head as he rose.

“Send me some candidates,” he said. “Their
most important qualification must be their ability to withstand the duke’s inveigling. I should be on hand Monday and Wednesday next week, though I have appointments back-to-back on Tuesday. I’ll expect you to accompany me to Willow Bend on Thursday.”

“Me?” Anna rose, as well, memories assaulting her: The earl drinking champagne from the bottle on the library floor, his hand slipping over her bare buttocks in the dark of night, the single rose he’d brought her… “I don’t believe that’s wise.”

“Of course it’s wise,” the earl said. “How else am I to know which table goes in what room, and which drapes to hang where?”

“I can write it out,” Anna suggested, “or go when you’re not there.”

“I am the owner, Anna.” He peered down at her in consternation. “What if I take issue with your decisions? Are we to trundle out there on alternate days until all our quibbling is resolved?”

She admitted the silliness of that but not out loud.

“You aren’t afraid, are you?” He cocked his head, frowning. “It isn’t likely we’ll be stuck in a second monsoon, but we can take the coach if you’d feel better about it.”

“Let’s see what the weather portends.” Anna did want to see the place put to rights. “Who will be doing all of the stepping and fetching?”

“The property is now swarming with locals ready to do the earl’s bidding for a bit of the earl’s coin. Much of the work should be done before we arrive, but I want your eye on the finished product.”

“Very well, then. Thursday.”

“And I’ve been meaning to ask you why you always fall silent when St. Just is in the room.” He sidled a little closer and waited for her reply.

“The colonel doesn’t particularly care for me. It’s merely his tacitly stated and perfectly legitimate opinion.”

“He likes you.” The earl dipped his head and kissed her cheek. “It might be he doesn’t trust you. More likely, he simply envies me, because I saw you first.”

Anna’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment, but the earl was gone in an instant, no doubt drawn into the breakfast parlor by the scent of bacon, scones, omelets, and—more especially—by the sound of his brothers’ laughter.

“G
OOD MORNING
, Y
OUR
G
RACE
.”

Anna swept the deep, deferential curtsy required in the presence of a lady of high rank. “Would you like to wait in the formal parlor, the breakfast parlor, the family parlor, or the library?”

“It’s such a pleasant morning,” the duchess said. “Why not in the gardens?” Anna found herself returning her smile, as the gardens were the better choice. After several days of increasingly miserable weather, the humidity had dropped in the night, making the morning air delightful.

“Can I bring you some iced lemonade?” Anna asked when she’d seen the earl’s mother ensconced on a shady bench. “The earl and his brothers usually return from their morning ride about this time and go directly in to breakfast.”

“His brothers?” The duchess paused in the arrangements of her skirts and blinked once. “Can you spare a few minutes to sit with me, Mrs. Seaton?”

“Of course.” Anna assumed a seat on the same bench as the duchess. There was a subtle, pleasant
scent to the woman, a gracious but simple hint of rose with a note of spice. It didn’t fit with what Anna thought a duchess should smell like; it was much less formal, prettier, more sweet and loving.

“Westhaven’s brothers join him regularly for breakfast? I was aware Lord Valentine was a guest here, but you include St. Just in this breakfast club?”

“I do,” Anna said, feeling cornered. Would the earl want his mother knowing St. Just lived here?

“Is St. Just another guest in the earl’s home?” the duchess asked, frowning slightly at the roses. She was a pretty woman, even when she frowned: willowy, hair going from golden to flax, and green eyes slightly canted in a face graced with elegant bones.

“I would be more comfortable, Your Grace, did you put that question to your sons,” Anna said. A small, surprised silence followed her comment, and the duchess’s frown became a smile.

“You are protective of him,” she observed. “Or of them. That is admirable and a trait we share. Can you tell me, Mrs. Seaton, how Westhaven is going on?”

Anna considered the question and decided she could answer it, honestly if somewhat vaguely.

“He is a very, very busy man,” Anna said. “The business of the duchy is complicated and demands much of his time, but for the most part, I think he enjoys getting matters under control.”

“His Grace did not always see to the details as conscientiously as he should. Westhaven does much better in this regard.” As understatements went, that one was worthy of a duchess, Anna thought, and the duchess was loyal to her duke, which was no surprise.

“And how is Westhaven’s health?”

“He enjoys good health,” Anna said, thinking that was honest at least in the present tense. “He has an active man’s appetite, much to Cook’s delight.”

“And is he treating you well, Mrs. Seaton?” The duchess turned guileless eyes on Anna, but the question was sincere.

“He is a very good employer,” Anna said, feeling an abrupt, inconvenient, and wholly out-of-character wish that she had someone to talk to. The duchess was as pretty and gracious as an older woman could be, but she struck Anna as first, last, and always, a woman who had borne eight children, taken in two of her husband’s by-blows, and buried two of her sons. She was a mother, a
mama
, and Anna sorely, sorely missed her mother. It had taken this conversation to remind her of it, and the realization brought an unwelcome lump to her throat.

The duchess patted Anna’s hand. “A good employer can still be a selfish, inconsiderate, clueless
man
, Mrs. Seaton. I love my sons, but they will wear their muddy boots in the public rooms, flirt with the maids, and argue with their father in view of the servants. They are, in short, human, and sometimes trying as a result.”

“It is no trial to work for Lord Westhaven,” Anna said. “He pays honest coin for an honest day’s wage and is both reasonable and kind.”

“Your Grace?” Westhaven smiled as he strolled from the mews. “What a pleasure to see you.” He bent to kiss his mother’s cheek and used the gesture to wink at Anna surreptitiously. “Have you been haranguing Mrs. Seaton about how to fold the linens?”

“I’ve been trying without success to grill her about whether you finish your pudding these days.” The duchess stood and took her son’s proffered arm. The earl smiled at Anna and winged his other elbow at her. “Mrs. Seaton?” Anna accepted the gallantry rather than make a fuss.

“I can see you are indeed faring well, Westhaven. You dropped too much weight this spring; gauntness did not become you.”

“My staff is taking good care of me. You will be pleased to know both Dev and Val are enjoying my hospitality, as well. They’ll be along shortly, but were arguing about a horse when I left the stables.”

“I heard no shouting,” the duchess remarked. “It cannot be a very serious argument.”

“Dev wants Val to take on some work with one of his horses. Val is demurring,” the earl explained. “Or letting Dev work for it. How are His Grace and my dear sisters?”

“The girls are glad to be at Morelands, with the heat being so oppressive. They might come back for Fairly’s ball, however.”

“About which you can regale us at breakfast,” Westhaven said. “You will join us. I won’t hear otherwise.”

“I would be delighted.” The duchess smiled at her son, a smile of such warmth and loving regard Anna had to look away. Westhaven’s expression mirrored his mother’s, and Anna knew the earl had no greater ally than Her Grace, at least in all matters that did not pit him against the duke.

“My lord, Your Grace.” Anna slipped her arm from
the earl’s. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll notify the kitchen we have a guest.”

“Please don’t put them to any bother, Mrs. Seaton,” the duchess said. “The company of my sons is treat enough on any day.” The earl offered Anna a slight bow, and Anna knew the gesture wasn’t lost on his mother.

“She dotes on you,” the duchess commented when Anna had retreated.

“She dotes on all three of us. We have all the comforts a conscientious housekeeper can imagine for us, and then some. Do you know, she keeps marzipan in the pantry for me, chocolates for Val, and candied violets for Dev? We have flowers in every room, the linens are all scented with lavender or rosemary, the house stays cool even in this heat, and I cannot comprehend how she accomplishes this.”

Her Grace paused on the back steps. “She did all this before you’d brought your brothers to stay with you, didn’t she?”

“She did. I just notice it more now.”

“Grief can turn us inward,” the duchess said quietly. “I was concerned for you, Westhaven. I know His Grace left the finances in a muddle, but it seems as if cleaning up after your father was all you made time for this spring.”

“The finances are still not untangled, Your Grace. We were not faring very well when I was given the reins.”

“Are we in difficulties?” the duchess asked carefully.

“No, but we nearly would have been. In some ways, Victor’s mourning period saved us some very timely entertaining expenses. A house party at Morelands is nothing compared to one of your balls, Mother.”

“You call me Mother when you scold me, Westhaven, but this ball will be underwritten by Fairly and his in-laws, so you needn’t frown at me.”

“My apologies.” They turned at the sound of his brothers’ voices coming up the garden paths.

“What ho!” Dev called, grinning. “What light through yonder rose bush shines? Good morning, Your Grace.” He bowed low over her hand then stepped back as Val sidled in to kiss the duchess’s cheek.

“Mother.” Val smiled down at her. “You will join us for breakfast so these two mind their manners around their baby brother?”

“I will join you for breakfast to feast my eyes on the greatest display of young male pulchritude to be had in all of London.”

“She flatters,” Westhaven said, “before interrogating, no doubt.”

The duchess floated into the house, one hand tucked by Westhaven’s side, the other wrapped on Val’s arm. Dev watched them go, smiling at the tableau before turning back to the rose bushes along the far wall, where Anna was clipping a bouquet.

He propped a booted foot against the low stone wall bordering the bed. “How badly did she interrogate you?”

“Good morning, Colonel St. Just.” Anna bobbed a curtsy and put her shears into the wicker basket sitting on the wall. “The duchess was all that was gracious.”
Unlike present company.
“If you’ll excuse me?”

“I will not,” St. Just replied. He emphasized his response by putting a hand on Anna’s arm. She met
his eyes, looked pointedly down at his hand, and back up at his face, arching a brow in question.

“You need not like me,” Anna said, “but you will respect me.”

“Or what, Anna Seaton?” He leaned in, giving Anna a hint of his aftershave, a minty scent with a blend of meadow flowers. Anna went still, knowing if she made a fuss, the earl would appear, likely with his mother at his side.

“You are not a bully, Colonel, whatever else may trouble you.”

He stepped back, frowning.

“You aggravate me, Mrs. Seaton,” he said at length. “I want to assure myself you are a scheming, selfish, vapid little tramp with airs above your station, but the assurance just won’t ring true.”

Anna flashed him a look of consternation. “Why on earth would you attempt to make such a nasty prejudgment? You yourself have no doubt been subject to just the same sort of close mindedness.”

“Now, see?” St. Just almost smiled. “That’s what I mean. You don’t bother to deny the labels, you just hand them back to me in a neat, tidy little package of subtle castigation. Perhaps I’m only wishing you were venal, so I might poach on my brother’s preserves with moral impunity.”

“You would not poach on your brother’s preserves,” Anna said, beginning to see how much of the man was a particularly well-aimed type of bluster. “You are not as wicked as you want the world to think, sir.”

“Happens”—he did smile—“I am not, but it also happens you are not just the simple, devoted
housekeeper you would have the world think you are, either.”

“My past is my own business. Now have you business with me, Colonel, or are you being gratuitously unpleasant?”

“Business,” he said shortly. “You have rightly surmised I brood and paw and snort at times for show, Mrs. Seaton. It keeps His Grace from getting ideas, for one thing. But make no mistake on this point: I will defend my brother’s interests without exception or scruple. If I find you are playing him false in any sense or trifling with him, I will become your worst enemy.”

Anna smiled at him thinly. “Do you think he’d appreciate these threats you make to his housekeeper?”

“He might understand them,” St. Just said. “For the other message I have to convey to you is that to the extent you matter to my brother, you matter to me. If he decides he values you in his life, then I will also defend
you
without exception or scruple.”

“What is it you are saying?”

“You are a woman with troubles, Anna Seaton. You have no past anyone in this household knows of, you have no people you’ll admit to, you have the airs and graces of a well-born lady, but you labor for your bread instead. I’ve seen you conferring with Morgan, and I know you have something to hide.”

Anna raised her chin and speared him with a look. “Everybody has something to hide.”

“You have a choice, Anna,” St. Just said, her given name falling from his lips with surprising gentleness. “You either trust the earl to resolve your troubles, or
you leave him in peace. He’s too good a man to be exploited by somebody under his own roof. He’s had that at the hands of his own father, and I won’t stand for it from you.”

Anna hefted her basket and flashed St. Just a cold smile. “Like the duke, you’ll wade in, bully and intimidate, and jump to conclusions regarding Westhaven’s life, telling yourself all the while you do it because you love him, when in fact, you haven’t the first notion how to really go about caring for the man. Very impressive—if one wants proof of your patrimony.”

She bobbed him a curtsy with fine irony and walked off, her skirts twitching with her irritation.

As he pasted the requisite smile on his face and went in to breakfast, St. Just reflected he hadn’t been wrong: Anna Seaton had secrets; she’d all but acknowledged it.

But his approach had been wrong. A woman who attached Westhaven’s interest was going to have backbone to spare. He should not have threatened; he should not have, to use her word, bullied. Well, that could be remedied just as soon as he got through breakfast with Her Grace.

“You are quiet,” the earl remarked as they tooled along toward Willow Bend.

“If I am quiet enough, I can fool myself into thinking I am still abed, dreaming on my nice cool sheets.” Dreaming of him, most nights.

“Am I working you too hard?” the earl asked, glancing over.

“You are not. The heat can disturb one’s rest.”

“Are my brothers behaving? Dev is tidy, but Val can be a slob.”

“Lord Val’s only crime is that he commandeers Morgan for a couple of hours each afternoon and lets her join him in the music room while he works on his repertoire.”