Page 80 of The Heir
“Mutual friends,” Val said. “The circumstances were not particularly sanguine.”
“This involves your papa’s meddling?”
“Nanny Fran’s been talking again.” Val rolled his eyes. “She talks all the time. I got much faster at figuring out what is spoken by watching the speaker’s lips around her, and when people don’t think you can hear, they often say things you ought not to overhear.”
“What sorts of things?” Val asked, noticing Morgan’s voice was already increasing in range of pitch, taking on the intonations and inflections of a woman who could hear.
“Footmen are a bawdy lot,” Morgan said. “Nanny Fran and Cook are just as bad.”
“Has anyone been talking out of turn to His Grace?”
“Not that I know of.” Morgan frowned. “Mostly, the staff are very loyal to the earl, as he provided employment when His Grace was letting junior staff go, to hear them tell it. And I can.” Morgan sighed and hung a little on his arm. “I can hear them tell it. I will be on my knees for a long time tonight and every night. I wonder if I will sing again someday?”
“You like to sing?”
“Love to.” Morgan beamed at him. “I used to sing with my mother, and sometimes Anna would join us, but she was an adolescent just as my voice was becoming reliable, and singing was not her greatest talent.”
“So you are related to her?” Val asked, but Morgan’s hand dropped from his arm. “Morgan,” he chided, “Anna brought you into the household with her, she has admitted to Westhaven she knew you when you could hear, and Dev has seen the two of you tête-à-tête over something serious.”
Too late, Morgan realized the trap speaking had sprung on her. Deaf and mute, she could not be questioned; she could not be held accountable for any particular knowledge or intelligence.
Val peered down at her as they approached the park. “Dev says Anna has secrets, and I fear he is right. They are your secrets, too, aren’t they?”
“It’s complicated and not entirely my business to tell,” she said, speaking slowly. “This is part of the reason you must not tell anyone I can hear.”
“I do not like lying, Morgan. Particularly not to my brother, regarding people in his employ.”
“The earl hired me knowing I could not hear or speak,” Morgan pointed out. “He is not cheated when you keep this confidence for me. And if it comforts you to know it, I am not even going to tell Anna I can hear.”
“You think she would begrudge you yourhearing?”
“No.” Morgan shook her head then grinned. “I can hear that, when I shake my head.” She did it again then her smile faded. “Back to Anna and me… For the past two years, Anna is all that connected me with a world I had long since stopped hearing. I owe her more than you know, and yet, having me to look after has also meant she’s had to look after herself. Were I not in such great need, Anna might have given up. She might have taken some options for herself that were not at all desirable. In any case, I do not want to disclose I can hear, not until I know it’s going to last.”
“That much I can understand,” Val said. “How long do you think it will take to convince yourself you are back among the hearing?”
“Oh,listen!” Morgan stopped, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s geese, and they arehonking. What a wonderful, silly, undignified sound. And there are children, and they arescreamingwith glee. Oh, Valentine…”
The way she’d said his name, with wonder, and joy and gratitude, it lit the places inside him that had been going dark since his closest brother had died. The music rumbling through him when he watched her hearing the sound of childish laughter was not polite, graceful, or ornamental. It was great, bounding swoops and leaps of joy, and unstoppable, unending gratitude.
Brothers slowly wasted of terrible diseases; they died in asinine duels in provincial taverns; and sometimes, a gifted pianist’s hand hurt unbearably, but Morgan could alsohearwhen the children laughed.
He sat beside her for a long time in the sunshine and fresh air, just listening to the park and the city and to life.
“Gentlemen.” Westhaven addressed his brothers as they ambled back from a morning ride. “I need your help.”
Val and Dev exchanged a look of quiet surprise.
“You have it,” Dev said.
“Anything you need,” Val added. “Anything. Anywhere, anytime.”
Westhaven busied himself fiddling with the reins of the rangy chestnut gelding Dev had put him on. He might have expected ribbing from his brothers or teasing or idle curiosity, but their unconditional response caught him off guard.
Dev smiled at him, a smile more tender than humorous. “We love you, and we know you are all that stands between us and His Grace. Say on.”
“Good to know one’s sentiments are reciprocated,” Westhaven said, eyeing the sky casually.
“I suspect whatever you need help with,” Val chimed in, “we are discussing it here because you do not want to be overheard at home?”
