Page 87 of The Heir
“With Morgan?” Anna frowned. “An infatuation, perhaps. I am guessing she symbolizes something for him, something to do with his music or his choices in life. I know she adores him for his kindness, but I trust them.”
“He plays Herr Beethoven like a man, not a boy.”
“You would be better able to decipher that than I.” Anna accepted the apple slice he passed her. “His playing to me has lately become passionate, and brilliant as a consequence.”
“That’s well said,” the earl responded, munching thoughtfully.
“You’ve dodged my question about the physicians,” Anna said, rubbing her hand across his lower back.
“They can’t tell us anything for sure. The duke’s symptoms—the sensation of a horse sitting on his chest, inability to breath freely, pain in the left side of his neck and down his left arm—are classic signs of a heart seizure. But the pains were very fleeting, and His Grace is a very active fellow. He has not felt particularly fatigued, is not in pain as we speak, and hasn’t had any previous episodes of chest pain. He may make a full recovery and live another twenty years. The next weeks will be critical in terms of ensuring he gets rest and only very moderate exercise.”
“But they also implied he may die tonight. Do you believe he’s had no similar incidents, or has he been keeping up appearances for your mother?”
“Dev asked the same thing, and we decided if there had been earlier warnings, Her Grace might be the only one to detect it.”
“And she would say nothing, except possibly to His Grace when they had privacy, which they will have little of.”
“I can see they have some.” The earl glanced over at her. “You learned this from your grandparents?”
“My grandmother. From time to time she shooed everybody away from the sick room and had Grandpapa to herself. It gave us all a break and gave them some time to be together.”
“And to say good-bye.” The earl sipped his drink again then handed the glass to Anna. “God, Anna, when I think of the things I said to my father today.”
“You can apologize,” Anna said simply. “It’s more than he’s ever been willing to do when it’s time to mend a fence. And he has bullied his way through many fences.”
The earl chuckled at her tart tone, despite his fears and guilt and fatigue. “You are a ruthlessly practical woman, Anna Seaton.”
“Eat your marzipan,” she ordered. “I’ve learned to be practical, and you’ve no one to talk sense to you tonight save me. A man of the duke’s age is lucky to be alive, much less alive and getting up to all the mischief he does. You did not cause his heart seizure, Westhaven. Do not even try to argue with me on this.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek then handed him a piece of candy. “Eat.”
He obeyed, realizing the food, drink, and conversation had restored him more than he would have thought possible.
“The next week,” he said around a mouthful of almond paste, “will be trying.”
“Your entire existence as the duke’s heir has been trying.”
“It has,” he agreed, fingering his glass. “But I’m getting things turned around, Anna. The cash flow will soon be reliable and healthy, the estate managers are getting better organized, the girls and Mama and even His Grace are learning to deal with budgets and allowances. By the end of summer, I won’t have to spend so much time with Tolliver. I wanted my father to see that.”
“You wanted him to offer some gesture of thanks, or perhaps you wanted to be able to brag on yourself a bit and see if he at least notices all your efforts.”
“I suppose.” He picked up the second piece of marzipan and studied it. “Is that such a sorry thing, for a grown man still to want his papa to approve of him?”
“The sorry thing is that there would be any doubt in your mind that he does.” She kissed his cheek again, a gesture that felt comforting and natural to him, then rose and began tidying up the kitchen.
“In all of today’s tumult, I’ll bet you forgot to fire Stenson and also forgot that our new butler started.”
“Sterling.” The earl nodded. “I did forget. Have we counted the silver to make sure my choice was worthy? And yes, I have yet to speak to Stenson.”
“Send him back to the mansion, then,” Anna suggested. “Lord Val is there, and Colonel St. Just’s smalls are all mended.”
“He’s probably told you to call him by name.” Anna and Dev might never be the best of friends, but in her tone there was none of the latent prickliness Dev had engendered earlier.
“He is much like your papa,” Anna said, pausing as she picked up the earl’s tray. “Gruff and sometimes unable to communicate his motivations, but tenderhearted and fierce.”
“A good description. He was a grown man, though, before he could even speak clearly among strangers.”
“Lord Val told me of the stutter,” Anna said, coming back to the table with a clean rag. She bent over to wipe down the table, and Westhaven seized her hand in a gentle, implacable grip.
“Anna?” She straightened slowly and met his gaze. “Spend the night with me.”
