Page 123 of The Heir
“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.
