Page 102 of The Heir
“Who is he? He comports himself like a man of consequence, at least in his own mind.”
“Hedley Arbuthnot, eighth Baron Stull,” Anna said. “My betrothed.”
“Don’t be so sure about that.” The earl looked at her, frowning. “I want to see these contracts, as in the first place, I don’t think a conditional betrothal is enforceable, and in the second, there is the question of duress.” And a host of other legal questions, such as whether Helmsley had executed the contracts on behalf of his sisters, and if Morgan was a minor when he did. Or did he sign on behalf of Anna, who was not a minor, and thus bind himself rather than her?
And where in the tangle of questions did the matter of guardianship of the ladies’ funds come into it?
The earl looked at Morgan. “You are going to let my brother escort you to the ducal mansion. Stull does not know where you are and does not know you have regained your ability to speak and hear. It is to our advantage to keep it that way.”
“You”—the earl turned an implacable glare on Anna—“are going to go unpack your damned valise and meet me back here, and no running off. Your word, or I will alert the entire staff to your plans, and you will be watched from here to Jericho unless I am with you.”
“You have my word,” she said quietly, rising to go, but turning at the last to give Morgan one more hug.
She left a ringing silence behind her, in which the earl helped himself to the whiskey decanter, pouring a hefty tot into his lemonade.
“So what hasn’t she told me?” The earl turned and met Morgan’s gaze.
“I don’t know what she has told you.”
“Precious bloody little.” The earl took a swallow of his cocktail. “That she was keeping confidences and could not allow me to assist her. Christ.”
“She was. My grandmother made us both promise our situation would not become known outside the three of us. Anna and I have both kept our word in that regard, until now.”
The earl ran a hand through his hair. “How could this come about? That Anna could be obligated to marry a loathsome excuse for a bore—or boar?”
“It was cleverly done.” Morgan sighed and stood, crossing her arms as she regarded the back gardens through the French doors. “Helmsley sent Grandmother and me off to visit a friend of hers, then took Anna aside and told her if she didn’t sign the damned contract, he’d have me declared incompetent. In a similar fashion, he told me if I didn’t sign the contract, then he’d put a pillow over Grandmother’s face. Anna doesn’t know about that part, and I don’t think he’d do it…”
“But he could. What a rotter, this brother of yours. And lousy at cards, I take it?”
“Very. We were in hock up to our eyeballs two years ago.”
“So he probably told your grandmother some Banbury tale, as well,” the earl said, staring at his drink. “What do you think would make Anna happy now?”
“To be home,” Morgan said. “To know Grandmother is safe, to see Grandpapa’s gardens again, to know I am safe. To stop running and looking over her shoulder and pretending to be something we’re not.”
“And you, Morgan?” The earl shifted to stand beside her. “What do you want?”
“I want Anna to be happy,” Morgan said, swallowing and blinking. “She was so… So pretty and happy and loving when Grandpapa was alive. And the past two years, she’s been reduced to drudgery just so I would be safe. She deserves to be happy, to be free and safe and…” She was crying, unable to get out the rest of whatever she wanted to say. The earl put down his drink, fished in his pocket for his handkerchief, and pulled Morgan into his arms.
“She deserves all that,” he agreed, patting her shoulder. “She’ll have it, too, Morgan. I promise you she’ll have what she wants.”
When Val and Dev joined him in the library less than an hour later, Anna was still unpacking while Morgan was busy packing. The earl explained what he knew of the situation, pleased to hear the magistrate had agreed to delay Stull’s bond hearing for another two days.
“That gives us time to get Morgan to Their Graces,” the earl said, glancing at Val. “Unless you object?”
“It wouldn’t be my place to object,” Val said, his lips pursed, “but I happen to concur. Morgan can use some pampering, and Her Grace feels miserable for having set Hazlit on their trail. This will allow expiation of Her Grace’s sins, and distract His Grace, as well.”
“Creates a bit of a problem for you,” Dev pointed out.
“How so?” Val frowned.
“How are you going to continue to convince our sire you are a mincing fop, when every time Morgan walks by, you practically trip over your tongue?”
“My tongue, Dev, not my cock. If you could comprehend the courage it takes to be deaf and mute in a society that thinks it is neither, you would be tripping at the sight of her, as well.”
Dev spared a look at the earl, who kept his expression carefully neutral.
“You will both escort Morgan to Their Graces later this afternoon,” Westhaven said. “For now, I’d like you to remain here, keeping an eye on Anna.”
