The Heir (41 page)

“He passed away last night but left you a final gift,” the earl said, drawing her to sit beside him on a padded window seat. “He wrote out a confession, implicating Stull and himself in all manner of crimes, including arson, misfeasance, assault, conspiracies to commit same, and more. Stull will either hang or be transported if he doesn’t flee, as deathbed confessions are admissible evidence.”

“My brother is dead.” Anna said the words out loud. “I want to be sad, but no feeling comes.”

“He was adamant he wasn’t trying to shoot you. Dev spent some time with him, and though your brother considered murdering you for money, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He insisted the gun went off by accident.”

“And Dev?” Anna looked troubled. “Will charges be pressed, and is he all right?”

“It is like you to think of St. Just. But Anna, your family’s title has gone into abeyance. You might lose Rosecroft.”

“Dev served on the Peninsula for nearly eight years,” Anna said. “He brought two peers of the realm
to justice when they were bent on misbehavior. Let him have Rosecroft. Grandmama has just informed me it’s a stupid place to try to grow flowers, but it’s pretty and peaceful. Horses might like it.”

“Then where will you live? I thought you were going to bow to the wishes of your family and remove to Yorkshire?”

“My family.” Anna’s lips thinned. “Morgan flirts with everything she sees, and Grandmother is suddenly tired of northern winters. I am related to a couple of tarts.”

“Even tarts have to live somewhere.”

“Will you sell me Willow Bend?” She looked as surprised by her question as he was, as if it had just popped into her head.

I’d give it to you
, he wanted to say. But that would be highly improper.

“I will, if you really want it. The stables are done, and the house is ready for somebody to live there.”

“I like it,” Anna said, “very much in fact, and I like the neighbors there. It’s large enough I could put in some greenhouses and an orangery and so on.”

“I’ll have the solicitors draw up some papers, but Anna?”

“Hmm?”

“You know I would give it to you,” he said despite the insult implied.

She waved a hand. “You are too generous, but thank you for the thought. Tell me again St. Just is not brooding. He took a man’s life, and even for a soldier, that cannot be an easy thing.”

“He will manage, Anna. Val and I will look after him, and he could not let your brother make off with
you. The man did contemplate your murder, though we will never know how sincerely.”

“Dev knew”—Anna frowned—“and I knew. Helmsley wasn’t right. Something in him broke, morally or rationally. It’s awful of me, but I am glad he’s dead.”

“It isn’t awful of you. For entirely different reasons, I was glad when Victor died.” He wanted to hold her, to offer her at least the comfort of his embrace, but she wasn’t seeking it. “Are you up to a turn in the garden?”

“I am.” Anna smiled at him, but to him, it was forced, at best an expression of relief rather than pleasure. When they were a safe distance from the house, he paused and regarded her closely.

“You aren’t sleeping well,” he concluded. And neither was he, of course. “And you look like you’ve lost weight, Anna. Don’t tell me it’s the heat.”

“You’re looking a bit peaked yourself, and you’ve lost weight, as well.”

I miss you terribly
.

“Are my parents treating you well?” the earl asked, resuming their sedate walk.

“They are lovely, Westhaven, and you knew they would be, or you wouldn’t have sent us here. I am particularly fond of your papa.”

“You are? That would be the Duke of Moreland?”

“Perhaps, though the duke has not been in evidence much. There’s a pleasant older fellow who bears you a resemblance, though. He delights in telling me stories about you and your brothers and sisters. He flirts with my grandmother and my sister, he adores his wife, and he is very, very proud of you.”

“I’ve met him. A recent acquaintance, but charming.”

“You should spend more time with him,” Anna said. “He is acutely aware that with Bart and Victor, he spent years being critical and competitive, when all he really wants is for his children to be happy.”

“Competitive? I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Well,” Anna stopped to sniff at a red rose, closing her eyes to inhale its fragrance. “You should. You have brothers, and it can’t be so different from sons.”

Tell me now, Anna
, he silently pleaded as she ran her finger over a rose petal.
Tell me I could have a son, that we could have a son, a daughter, a baby, a future—anything.

“How soon can I remove to Willow Bend?” she asked, that forced, bright smile on her face again.

“Tomorrow,” the earl said, blinking. “I trust you to complete the sales transaction, and the house will fare better occupied. It will please me to think of you there.” She stumbled, but his grip on her arm prevented her from falling.

“I have been dependent on the Windhams’ kindness long enough,” Anna said evenly. “I know Morgan and Grandmama will be glad to settle in somewhere.”

“Anna.” He paused with her again, knowing they would soon be back at the house, and Anna had every intention of moving out to Surrey, picking up the reins of her life, and riding out of his.

“How are you really?”

The bright, mendacious smile faltered.

“I am coping,” she said, staring out across the beds of flowers. “I wake up sometimes and don’t know where I am. I think I must see to your lemonade for the day or wonder if you’re already in the park on
Pericles, and then I realize I am not your housekeeper anymore. I am not your anything anymore, and the future is this great, yawning, empty unknown I can fill with what? Flowers?”

She offered that smile, but he couldn’t bear the sight of it and pulled her against his chest.

“If you need anything,” he said, holding her against him, “
anything
, Anna James. You have only to send me word.”

She said nothing, clinging to him for one long desperate moment before stepping back and nodding.

“Your word, Anna James,” he ordered sternly.

“You have my word,” she said, smile tremulous but genuine. “If I am in any difficulties whatsoever, I will call on you.”

The sternness went out of him, and he again offered his arm. They progressed in silence, unmindful of the duke watching them from the terrace. When his duchess joined him, he slipped an arm around her waist.

“Esther.” He nuzzled her crown. “I find I am fully recovered.”

“This is amazing,” his wife replied, “as you have neither a medical degree nor powers of divination.”

“True.” He nuzzled her again. “But two things are restored to me that indicate my health is once again sound.”

“And these would be?” the duchess inquired as she watched Westhaven take a polite leave of Miss James.

The duke frowned at his son’s retreating back. “The first is a nigh insatiable urge to meddle in that boy’s affairs. Devlin and Valentine dragooned me into
a shared tea pot, and for once, we three are in agreement over something.”

“It’s about time.”

“You don’t mind if I take a small hand in things?” the duke asked warily.

“I am ready to throttle them both.” The duchess sighed, leaning into her husband. “And I suspect the girl is breeding and doesn’t even know it.”

“St. Just is of like mind. He and Val all but asked me what I intend to do about it.”

“You will think of something. I have every faith in you, Percy.”

“Good to know.”

“What was the second piece of evidence confirming your restored health?”

“Come upstairs with me, my love, and I will explain it to you in detail.”

“I am here at the request of my duchess,” Moreland declared.

“Your Grace will always be welcome,” Anna said. “I’m sure Grandmama and Morgan will be sorry they missed you.”

“Making the acquaintance of that scamp, Heathgate.” The duke shook his head. “I could tell you stories about that one, missy, that would curl your hair. His brother is no better, and I pray you do not allow me to stray onto the topic of Amery.”

“He loves your granddaughter,” Anna countered, “but have another crème cake, Your Grace, and tell me how your duchess goes on.”

“She thrives as always in my loving care,” the duke intoned pompously, but then he winked at Anna and reached for a cake. “But you tell her I had three of these, and she will tear a strip off the ducal hide. Seriously, she is doing well, as are the girls. I can’t say the same for old Westhaven, though. That boy is a shambles. Were it not for his brothers, I’d move him back to the mansion.”

“A shambles?” Anna felt the one crème cake she’d finished beginning to rebel.

“A complete shambles.” The duke munched away enthusiastically. “His house is in no order whatsoever. Old Fran is running things any damned way she pleases, and you know that cannot be good for the King’s peace. Tolliver has threatened to quit, St. Just is back to his drinking and brooding, and Valentine has taken to hiding from them both in the music room.”

“I am distressed to hear it. But what of the earl? How does he fare?”

“Forgets to eat.” The duke sighed. “Not a problem he inherited from me. Rides his horse every day, but otherwise, it’s business, business, and more business. You’d think the boy’s a damned cit the way he must read every paragraph and negotiate every price. Mark my words, the next heart seizure will be his.”

“Your Grace,” Anna said earnestly, “isn’t there something you can do? He respects you, more than you know.”

“I’ve reformed.” The duke reached for a fourth crème cake. “I do not meddle. I’ve learned my lesson; Westhaven needs to learn his. He did seem to manage better when you were on hand, but no matter. He’ll
muddle along. So”—the duke rose, brushing crumbs from his breeches—“My duchess will want to know, how fare you?”

He leveled a lordly, patrician look at her.

“I am well.” Anna rose a little more slowly.

“Not fainting, are you?” The duke glowered at her. “Makes no sense to me at all. The lord plants a babe in a woman’s womb then has her wilting all over. I can understand the weeps and the constant napping, but the rest of it… Not the way I’d have arranged it. But the Almighty is content to make do without my advice for the nonce, much like my children.”

“I am well,” Anna repeated, but a ringing had started in her ears.

The duke leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Glad to hear it, my dear,” he said, patting her arm. “Westhaven would be glad to hear it, too, I expect.”

“Westhaven?”

“He’s an earl,” the duke said, his eyes twinkling. “Handsome fellow, if a bit too serious. Gets that from his mother. Lonely, if you ask me. I think you’ve met him.”

“I have.” Anna nodded, realizing she’d walked her guest to the door. “Safe journey home, Your Grace. My regards to the family.”

The duke nodded and went smiling on the way to his next destination.

“Not managing well, at all.” The duke shook his head.

“Your mother was concerned enough to send
me
, Westhaven, and I am barely allowed off the leash these days, as you well know.”

“You say she looked pale?”

“Women in her condition might look a little green around the gills at first, but then they bloom, Westhaven. Their hair, their skin, their eyes… She isn’t blooming and she’s off her feed and she looks too tired.”

“I appreciate your telling me this,” the earl said, frowning, “but I don’t see what I can do. She hasn’t asked for my help.”

The duke rose, snitching just one more piece of marzipan. “I am not entirely sure she understands her own condition, my boy. Grew up without a mother; probably thinks it’s all the strain of losing that worthless brother. You might find she needs blunt speech if your offspring isn’t to be a six-months’ wonder.

“A six-months’ wonder,” the duke repeated, “like Bart nearly was. He was an eight-months’ wonder instead, which is readily forgivable.”

“He was a what?” The earl was still frowning and still pondering the duke’s revelations regarding Anna’s decline.

“Eight-months’ wonder.” The duke nodded sagely. “Ask any papa, and he’ll tell you a proper baby takes nine and half months to come full term, first babies sometimes longer. Bart was a little early, as Her Grace could not contain her enthusiasm for me.”