Page 118 of The Heir
“Civil matters are often settled with money judgments, Anna, and while you might think you have sufficient capital, Morgan might not be of the same mind, nor your grandmother.”
“I see.” Anna pursed her lips. “I trust your judgment, Westhaven. Proceed as you see fit.”
“I will,” he said and brought her hand up sandwiched between both of his. “There’s something else we need to discuss, Anna.”
“There is?” She watched him matching their hands, finger for finger.
“Your grandmother will be scandalized to find you dwelling with three bachelors, and my mother has reminded me Morgan is worried about you.”
“Morgan just visited, and my grandmother will hardly be scandalized to find I’m alive and well.”
“Anna…” He met her gaze. “I’ve made arrangements for you to remove to the mansion the day after tomorrow, where you will complete your convalescence under my mother’s care.”
“Westhaven…” He rose abruptly, and Anna came to her feet more slowly. “Gayle? Is this what you want?”
He looked up at her use of his name, a sad smile breaking through his frown.
“It is what must be, Anna.” He kept his hands in his pockets. He did not reach for her. “You are a well-bred young lady, and I am a bachelor of some repute. If it becomes known you are under my roof without chaperonage, then your future will be bleak.”
More bleak, Anna wanted to rail, than when Stull and Helmsley were hounding me across England?
“I will miss you,” Anna said, turning her back to him, the better to hide her tears. God above, she’d turned into a watering pot since getting involved with the earl.
“I beg your pardon?” He’d stepped closer, close enough she could catch his scent.
“I will miss you,” Anna said, whirling and walking straight into him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and clung, while his arms gently closed around her. “I will miss you and miss you and miss you.”
“Oh, love.” He stroked the back of her head. “You mustn’t cry over this. You’ll manage, and so will I, and it’s for the best.” She nodded but made no move to pull away, and he held her as closely as her wounded shoulder would allow.
In the library, Val looked up from rummaging for a penknife and frowned at Dev.
“Are you peeking?” Val asked, moving to stand beside his brother at the window.
“Enjoying my front-row seat,” Dev replied, scowling. “I do not understand our brother, Valentine. He loves that woman and would give his life for her. But he’s letting her go, and she’s letting him let her go.”
“Could be a flanking maneuver.” Val watched as Anna cried her heart out on Westhaven’s shoulder. The couple was in profile, though, so when Westhaven bent his head to press his lips to her temple, the expression on his face was visible, as well.
“Come away.” Val tugged at Dev’s sleeve, and Dev left the window. “We should not have seen that.”
“But we did see it,” Dev said. “Now what are we going to do about it?”
“We will not meddle,” Val said. “We are not the duke, Devlin. I have every confidence Westhaven will let Anna catch her breath and then approach her properly.”
“Why wait?” Dev pressed. “They love each other now. And I have my suspicions as to why Anna cries so easily these days. I am years your senior, and I can recall the duchess’s last few confinements.”
“They love each other,” Val said, “clearly they do, but Anna deserves to be approached as the wealthy young lady of quality she is, not as a housekeeper on the run from venal schemes. And I don’t want to hear talk of confinements, particularly not when His Grace has ears everywhere.”
“Westhaven’s honor has gotten the best of his common sense,” Dev argued. “Anna doesn’t want to be approached later; she wants to be approached now.”
“Then why does she keep turning him down?” Val said reasonably. “His efforts to woo her would be an embarrassment, were I not convinced he has the right of it.”
“I don’t know.” Dev rubbed his chin and glanced at the window. “This whole business makes no sense, and I am inclined—odd as it might sound—to hear what His Grace has to suggest.”
“I agree.” Val sighed, closing the desk drawer with a bang. “Which only underscores that Westhaven isn’t making one damned bit of sense.”
In the less than two days that remained to them, the earl and Anna were in each other’s pockets constantly. They sat side by side in the back gardens, on the library sofa, or at breakfast. When Dev and Val joined them for meals, they affected a little more decorum, but their eyes conveyed what their hands and bodies could not express. Anna was again sleeping upstairs, and the earl was again joining her at the end of each day.
The earl drew a brush down the length of her dark hair. “I have asked Dev and Val to escort you to Their Graces tomorrow, Anna.”
