Page 64 of The Heir
“Or you could just get rid of Stenson,” she went on, “or have your brother perpetually travel around the countryside with Stenson in tow.”
“I suppose if Stenson is back, then Val can’t be far behind,” Westhaven observed.
“I have missed him,” Anna said. She looked a trifle disconcerted to have made the admission but let it stand.
“I have, too.” Westhaven nodded. “I miss his music, his irreverence, his humor… How is Dev settling in?”
Anna crossed the room and opened the door before answering his question.
“Well enough, I suppose,” she replied, busying her hands with an arrangement of daylilies. “He doesn’t sleep much, though, and doesn’t seem to have much of a routine.”
“He’ll settle in,” the earl said. “You will let me know when Lord Valentine returns?”
“No need for that.” Val stepped into the room. “I am back and glad to be back. It is too damned hot to travel, and Stenson was unwilling to travel at night. Not a very servile servant, if you ask me, though he does a wicked job with a muddy boot.”
“You.” Westhaven pulled his brother into a hug. “No more haring off for you, sir. Nobody knows how to go on without your music in the house or your deviltry to keep up morale.”
“I will wander no more,” Val said, stepping back, “at least until the heat breaks. I came, though, in search of Miss Morgan.”
“She might be in the kitchen,” Anna said. “More likely she’s reading in the barn. With dinner pushed back these days, she has some free time early in the evening.”
“Val?” The earl stayed his brother’s departure with a hand on his arm. “You should know, in your absence, I’ve asked Dev to bunk in with us. He was without his domestic help, and we have the room.”
“Devlin, here?” Val’s grin was spontaneous. “Oh ye gods and little fishes, that was a splendid idea, Westhaven. If we’re to be stuck in Town with this heat, at least let us have good company and Mrs. Seaton’s conscientious care while we’re here.”
He sailed out of the room, leaving Anna and the earl smiling in his wake.
“Good to have him back safe and sound,” Westhaven said.
“Three for dinner on the terrace, then?” she asked, every inch a housekeeper.
“Three, and I wanted to speak with you about a practical matter.”
“Dinner is very practical.
“Dinner is… yes, well.” He glanced at the door. “I have commissioned a fair amount of furniture for Willow Bend, but the place needs drapes, carpets, and so forth. I’d like you to see to it.”
“You want me to order those things? Shouldn’t your mother or perhaps one of your sisters take that on?”
“Her Grace is bouncing between Town and Morelands and preparing for the summer’s house parties. My sisters have not the expertise, nor do I have the patience for working with them on a project of this nature.”
“But, my lord, one of them will eventually be living there. My tastes cannot possibly coincide with those of a woman I’ve never met.”
“Not possibly.” The earl smiled. “As yours will be better.”
“You should not say such things.” Anna’s frown became a scowl. “It isn’t gentlemanly.”
“It’s brotherly and the truth. Even I know salmon and purple don’t go together, but that’s the kind of scheme my sisters would consider ‘daring,’ or some such. And they would pester me endlessly, while you, as I know from firsthand experience, can turn a house into a home with very little guidance from its owner.”
“I will take this on,” Anna said, chin going up. “Be it on your head if the place turns out looking like one of Prinny’s bad starts. What sort of furniture have you commissioned?”
“Why don’t we finish this discussion in the library?” the earl asked. “I can make you lists, draw you some sketches, and argue with you without every single servant and both brothers hearing me.”
“Give me a few minutes to talk with Cook, and I will join you.”
“Twenty minutes, then.” The earl took his leave, going up to his bedroom, where he’d no doubt Stenson was attempting to address more than a week’s worth of others making shift with his responsibilities.
“Mr. Stenson?” The earl strode into the room without knocking—and why would he?—and caught the fellow actually sniffing the cravat discarded over the edge of the vanity mirror. “Whatever are you doing in my quarters?”
