The Heir

Thirteen

“WELL?”

Wilberforce Hammond James, ninth Earl of Helmsley, carefully composed his features before turning to face the man who’d thrust open the interior door to the study. He did not face a pretty sight. Hedley Arbuthnot, Baron Stull, was nearly as round as he was tall, and he wasn’t exactly short.

Worse, he was untidy. His cravat showed evidence of the chicken he’d consumed at lunch, the wine with which he’d washed down the chicken, and the snuff with which he’d settled his understandably rebellious stomach. That stomach, Helmsley knew, was worked incessantly.

But Stull, who was at least ten years Helmsley’s senior, had two qualities that appealed, despite his appearance, lack of couth, and tendency to flatulence. First, he was free with his coin when in pursuit of his own ends, and second, he was as determined as a bulldog.

“Well, what?” Helmsley flicked an imaginary speck of lint from his sleeve.

“Where are the girls?”

“Mayfair,” Helmsley said, praying it was true.

“Best get packing then,” Stull said, sniffing like a canine catching the scent of prey. “To Mayfair it is.”

“He’s been gone for hours.”

Anna stopped pacing and pinned her gaze on Dev, whom she’d accurately assessed as the more softhearted brother. Val was sensitive and perceptive but had learned as his sisters’ favored escort to keep some perspective around emotional women.

“He said we weren’t to hold meals for him,” Dev reasoned. “Meals, Anna, plural. Not just luncheon. He might have gone to talk with His Grace’s investigator or taken Pericles for a romp.”

“He romped Pericles this morning, when it was cooler,” Anna pointed out. “I liked you better when you weren’t trying to turn me up sweet.”

“I’ll go to the mansion and find out what’s what,” Val said. “When His Grace and Westhaven go at it, they are usually loud, ugly, and to the point. Anna’s right—it shouldn’t be taking this long.”

He shot Dev a sympathetic glance but knew his brother would not have offered to investigate. Dev did not show up at the ducal mansion uninvited or unexpected, and Val wasn’t about to ask him to break that tradition now.

The library door opened, and Westhaven strode in, surprising all three occupants.

“What’s wrong?” Dev asked. “Don’t tell me His Grace got the better of you.”

“Well, he did,” Westhaven said, going straight for the whiskey decanter, pouring one drink, knocking it back, and pouring another.

“Westhaven?” Val asked cautiously. But it was to Anna the earl spoke.

“For once,” he said, “His Grace was blameless. You were investigated by a man named Benjamin Hazlit, who is legendarily thorough and legendarily discreet. He was on the Moreland payroll, but at my mother’s request, not the duke’s. I did not become aware of this until I had shouted dear Papa down with every obscene expression of my petty, selfish frustrations with him. I ranted, I raved, I shouted, and I told him…”

A pin could have dropped while Westhaven stared at his drink.

“I told him I was ashamed to be his son and heir.”

“Ye gods.” Val went to the brandy decanter. “About time somebody set him straight.” He handed drinks all around but saw Dev was staring at Westhaven with a frown.

“The old windbag got the last word somehow, though, didn’t he?” Dev guessed while Anna waited in silent dread.

“I sincerely hope,” Westhaven said, pinning Anna with a troubled look, “it isn’t quite his last word. Just as Her Grace was explaining that Hazlit was her agent, the duke suffered a heart seizure.” The silence became thoughtful as all three brothers considered their father’s mortality, and thus their own, while Anna considered the earl.

“He’s still alive?” she said, drawing three pairs of eyes.

“He was demanding his personal physicians at full bellow when I left,” Westhaven said. “I’ve sent Pugh and Hamilton to him and left very strict orders he is not to be bled, no matter how he rants and blusters.”

“Are you sure it was real?” Dev asked. “I would not put chicanery past him.”

“Neither would I,” Val said, eyes on Westhaven’s face.

“I am sure it was real though I am not sure how serious it was. I am sure he thought he was dying, and of course, he still might die.”

“He will die,” Val corrected. “We all will. What makes you think he wasn’t faking?”

“I’ve seen him morose, playful, raging, and—with Her Grace—even tender,” Westhaven said, “but in thirty years of memory, I cannot recall our father ever looking afraid before today. It was unnerving, I can tell you.

“I recall his rows with Bart,” the earl went on, shoving back to sit on his desk. “I used to think Bart was half-mad to let the old man get to him so. Why didn’t he just let it roll off him, I’d wonder. I’ve realized though, that there is a kind of assurance to be had when you take on His Grace, and he doesn’t back down, doesn’t give quarter, doesn’t flinch or admit he’s wrong, no matter what.”

“He’s consistent,” Dev admitted. “Consistently exasperating.”

“But he’s always the duke,” Westhaven said. “You never catch him breaking role, or doubting himself or his God-given right to be as he is.”

Val took a thoughtful swallow of his whiskey. “If the duke falls, then what?”

“Long live the duke,” Anna said, holding Westhaven’s eyes for a moment. “I am going to have dinner brought in here on trays. I am sure you will all be going to check on your father afterward. You might want to take Nanny Fran with you, as she’s a skilled nurse and would be a comfort to Her Grace.”

Westhaven just nodded, seeming relieved she’d deal with the practicalities.

The evening unfolded as Anna predicted, with all three brothers off to the ducal mansion to see His Grace—to watch Westhaven argue with the duke over the choice of physicians—and to offer the duchess their support.

Val elected to stay at the mansion, agreeing to send word if there was any change in the duke’s condition, while Dev went off to inform their half-sister, Maggie, of the duke’s heart seizure. When Westhaven returned to his townhouse, it was late enough that Anna had dismissed the footman at the front door and waited there herself for Westhaven to return.

She was dressed in only her night rail, wrapper, and slippers when she met him, and heedless of any prying eyes or listening ears she wrapped her arms around him as soon as he was near enough to grab.

“He looks like hell, Anna,” Westhaven said, burying his face against her neck. “He finally looks old, and worse, Mother looks old, too. The girls are terrified.”

“And you are a little scared, too,” Anna guessed, drawing back. “Give me your hat and gloves, Westhaven, and I will fix you a tray. You did not eat worth mentioning at dinner, and Her Grace warned me you go off your feed when you have concerns.”

“What else did Her Grace warn you about?” the earl asked, letting Anna divest him of hat and gloves. She didn’t stop there but went on to remove his jacket and his cravat, and then undo his cuff links and roll back his shirtsleeves.

“It is too hot to go about in your finery,” Anna said, “and too late.”

He’d stood there in the foyer like a tired little boy, and let her fuss with his clothing. She piled his clothing over one arm, laced her fingers through his, and towed him unresisting into the peaceful confines of his home.

The warmth of Anna’s hand in his felt like the first good news Westhaven had heard all day.

“My grandfather died just a couple of years ago,” Anna said as she led him through the darkened house. “I was so lucky to have him that long, and he was the dearest man. But he suffered some wasting disease, and in the end, it was a relief to see him go, but he held on and held on for my grandmother.”

“I can see His Grace doing the same thing,” the earl said, squeezing Anna’s fingers slightly.

“I recall that sense of dread,” Anna continued, “dread that every time Grandpapa dozed off, he was actually dead. He looked dead, sometimes, or I thought he did until I actually saw him pass. Three weeks after he left us, my grandmother had an apoplexy and became quite invalided herself.”

“She suffered a serious blow,” the earl said as they gained the kitchen.

“We all had,” Anna said, sitting him down at the work table. “I recall the way the whole household seemed strained, waiting but still hoping. We were… lost.”

He watched her moving around the kitchen to fetch his lemonade, watched her pour a scandalous amount of sugar into it then assemble him a tray. Something in the practical competence of her movements reassured him, made him feel less lost. In the ducal household, his mother and sisters, the servants, the physicians, everybody, looked to him for guidance.

And he’d provided it, ordering the straw spread on the street, even though the mansion sat so far back from the square the noise was unlikely to disturb his father. The need was for the staff to do something—anything—to feel like they were contributing to the duke’s welfare and comfort.

So Westhaven had issued orders, commandeering a sick room in the ducal chambers, sending word down to Morelands, setting Nanny Fran to inventorying the medical supplies, directing his sisters to pen notes to the family’s closest acquaintances and extended family, and putting Her Grace to extracting a list from the duke of the cronies he wanted notified and the terms of the notice. He’d conferred with the doctors, asked them to correspond with Fairly on the case, made sure Dev was off to inform Maggie, and finally, when there were no more anxious faces looking to him for direction, let himself come home.

And it was home, he thought, not because he owned the building or paid the people who worked there, nor even because he dwelled here with his brothers.

It was home because Anna was here, waiting for him. Waiting to care for him, not expecting him—hell, not really even allowing him—to care for her, solve her problems, and tell her how to go on.

I love you, he thought, watching her pull a daisy from the bouquet in the middle of the table and put it in a bud vase on his tray. When she brought the tray to the table and set it down, he put his arms around her waist and pressed his face to her abdomen.

“I used to look at your scalp wound this way,” Anna mused, trailing her finger through his hair to look for a scar. “I am lucky I did not kill you.”

“My head is too hard,” he said, sitting back. “I am supposed to eat this?”

“I will wallop you again if you don’t,” Anna said firmly, folding her arms. “And I’ll tattle to Pericles, who seems to have some sort of moral authority over you.”

“Sit with me,” he said, trying to muster a smile at her words.

She settled in beside him, and he felt more at peace.

“What do the physicians say?” Anna asked, laying her head on his shoulder.

“Odd,” the earl said, picking up a sandwich. “Nobody has asked me that, not even Her Grace.”

“She probably knows, even if she doesn’t admit it to herself, just how serious this is. My grandparents were like that, joined somehow at the level of instinct.”

“They loved each other,” the earl said, munching thoughtfully. Were he and Anna joined at the level of instinct? He thought so, or she wouldn’t be sitting here with him, feeding him, and offering him company when his own family did not.

“They surely did,” Anna said. “My grandfather grew his flowers for her. For me and Morgan, too, but mostly for his bride.”

“Morgan is your sister,” the earl concluded as his sandwich disappeared. Beside him, Anna went still.

“I know you are related,” he said, sipping his lemonade then offering it to Anna. “You care for her, and she is much more than a cousin to you.”

“You know this how?”

“I know you,” he said simply. “And we live under the same roof. It’s hard to hide such a closeness. You were willing to murder me for her safety.”

“She is my sister.”

“Val guessed it,” the earl said, biting into an apple slice. “He’s a little in love with her, I think.”

“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.”

Anna detected an odd light in Westhaven’s eyes, combining daring and ferocity, but behind that, a stark vulnerability, as well. “Spend the night with me,” he’d said. Simple, straightforward words with a wealth of complicated meanings.

She closed her eyes, trying to brace herself against his request and against her own raging desire to grant it. Not now, she thought desperately. Not now, when they hadn’t even discussed that investigator and the urgent need for her to flee.

“I will behave,” the earl said, dropping her wrist. “I’m too damned tired to really… Well, maybe not too tired, but too…” He fell silent and frowned. “It is an unreasonable request and poorly timed. Forget I asked.”

Anna opened her eyes and saw he was no longer looking at her. He rose and stretched, then glanced over at her where she stood immobilized, the rag still in her hand.

“I’ve offended you,” he said. “I just want… Will you be here in the morning?”

He hadn’t wanted to put that question into words, Anna knew. Hadn’t wanted to ask her to be with him in the morning.

“I will be here,” Anna said, unable to listen to her common sense screaming to the contrary. “In your bed, if you want me there.”

He just nodded and took the rag from her, wiping up the table while Anna finished putting away the dishes she’d washed. To her, the moment was resoundingly domestic and somehow right for them. He wasn’t pretentious with her, wasn’t always the earl. Sometimes, like now, he was just Gayle Windham, a thoroughly, completely lovable and worthy man.

He waited until Anna had finished tidying up, took a candle from the table, and held out his arm to her. The gesture was courtly and oddly reminiscent of Anna’s grandparents. Oh, to grow old with him… Anna thought, wrapping her hand around his forearm.

When they gained his room, the sense of domestic peace came with them. Anna finished undressing him; he tucked her into his bed then set about using the wash water kept in ample supply by his hearth. The balcony doors were open, and a refreshing breeze wafted through the room. She watched his ablutions, finding him simply beautiful in the light of the single candle. It wasn’t even an erotic appreciation but something more possessive than that. He was beautifully built, of course, but the pensive expression on his face was beautiful to her, too.

He is the way he is because he cares, and maybe in this, he and his father can finally find some common ground.

When he wrung out the wet cloth and straightened, Anna flipped back the lavender-scented sheets. “Come to bed.”

“Your night rail, madam?” He held out a hand. “It is too hot for all that extra, Anna, and I promise I will not bother you.”

“So you’ve said,” she replied, pulling the nightgown over her head and handing it to him. “Did you lock the door?”

“Ye gods.” He padded through the dark and took care of the lock, blew out the candle, then climbed in beside her.

“I cannot remember the last time I spent the night with anyone other than a cat in my bed, save for our night at Willow Bend.” Anna settled on the mattress as she spoke.

“I could say the same thing.” The earl punched his pillow. “It would have different significance. Sorry.” He was apologizing for yanking inadvertently on her pillow, but Anna let the apology cover his teasing, as well.

Anna folded her hands on her stomach as they both stretched out on their backs. “What awaits you tomorrow?”

“I’ll meet with His Grace,” the earl said. “Deliver Stenson his orders, probably call on Maggie, and try to toss enough work at Tolliver so we don’t get behind.”

Anna reached for his hand, prying it off his own stomach and lacing her fingers through it. “You should send a note around first thing to your brothers and go for your regular ride.”

“Instead of seeing if my father is still alive?” The earl’s frown was evident even in the darkness, but Anna was more aware that his fingers were closed around hers tightly.

“If he passes in the night you will receive word immediately. Lord Val will see to it. You enjoy your rides tremendously,” she went on. “Some days, I think it’s the only time you permit yourself to do what you please and not what you ought. And Pericles will not be around forever.”

“Using my horse’s welfare, Anna?”

“And your brothers need to see that though the duke may be failing, the earl is not; nor is the earl spending every waking minute in anticipation of his father’s demise. The earl is too sturdy to capitulate to anxiety like that and too well inured to his responsibilities. Death befalls us, and while it is sad, the duke has lived a very long and good life. Though he will be mourned, his passing will be in the natural order of things, as will the earl’s, when the time comes.”

He sighed and considered her point.

I love you, he thought, because you are honest with me and because you are willing to speak the truth to me when others might seek to curry favor instead. I love you because you are in this bed with me, not trying to conceive the much-awaited next generation of Windhams, but just holding my hand.

“I’ll go riding.”

“Good.” Anna rolled toward him, and in the dark he felt her moving on the mattress. She kissed his forehead and sighed. “Now go to sleep, Gayle Tristan Montmorency Windham. I will be here when you waken. I promise.”

She wrestled him then into the position she deemed best suited to his slumbers, leaving him lying in her arms, his face resting against her shoulder. She stroked his back in the same easy rhythm he often gave her, and Anna soon heard his breathing even out.

I will be here when you waken, she thought, but for how much longer, I do not know.

The investigator sent north had precipitated the need the leave, and now, when the duke lay so ill, any temptation to confide in the earl was put to rest. He needed to be looking to his own and not to the troubles brought to him by his housekeeper.

Anna wrapped her arms around the future Duke of Moreland and sent up a heartfelt prayer for his happiness and her own safety.

The days and nights that followed saw shifts in the routine of the earl’s household. His morning ride with his brothers, a casual habit earlier, became standard. Stenson’s departure brought a sense of relief to everyone, and Sterling, a quiet older gentleman recommended by no less than the Duke of Quimbey, brought order among the footmen.

And the nights…

The earl rose each morning, well rested and ready to face the day, because Anna shared his bed. The need for her hovered in regions Westhaven could not articulate. There was desire in it, but not enough that he initiated any seduction. The simple comfort of her presence was far more precious than any fleeting pleasure might be.

And he had the sense Anna was granting him the boon of her nightly company only because she was more determined than ever to go, and go soon. His Grace had enjoyed four days of continued freedom from chest pains, and the ducal household was beginning to admit to some cautious relief.

Watching Anna sleep, Westhaven frowned as he realized that when the duke was deemed safe from immediate danger, then Anna would likely go.

He would not allow that. Could not. Mentally, he kicked himself for not making the time to meet with Hazlit earlier in the week. He’d meet with him today, he vowed, if he had to pursue the man on foot through Seven Dials to see it done.

“You’re awake.” Anna smiled at him, and he smiled back. Such a simple thing, to start the day with a shared smile. He leaned over and kissed her.

“No fair.” Anna shoved the sheets aside. “You’ve used the tooth powder already.” She heaved off the bed, shrugged into her wrapper, and made for the privacy screen in the corner.

She was not too fussy, his Anna. She emerged and made use of his tooth powder and toothbrush, then caught sight of herself in the dressing mirror.

“I look like I was dragged through the proverbial hedge backward. How can you not be overcome with laughter at my appearance?” In the mirror, he assessed her reflection: Her braid was coming un-raveled and she had a wrinkle across her cheek from the pillow seam.

“You look very dear. Come back to bed.”

“It is almost light out, your lordship.” Anna eyed him balefully. “I am surprised you slept this late.”

“Dev has to take his horses back to Surrey today, and Val made for a late night at Fairly’s piano. No morning ride for poor Pericles, I’m afraid. Come back to bed, Anna.”

There was something… implacable in his voice, and in the gray shadows of the room, Anna felt as if she were suddenly facing a life-defining moment. She could get in that bed, and this time—this time, finally—they would make love. She knew it as surely as a woman knows the scent of her lover, as surely as a mother knows the cry of her child.

Or she could smile, shake her head, and set about tidying herself up for the day.

Slowly, she unbelted her wrapper and walked naked back toward the bed.

“Your courses?” the earl asked as he watched her. “When will they fall?”

“In a few days,” she said, not surprised at the intimacy of the question. In some ways, the past days had seen them become more intimate than lovers. They shared his toothbrush; he brushed out her hair. She helped him dress, and he was her lady’s maid. At the beginning and end of each day, they held quiet conversations, holding hands in bed or holding each other.

And moment by moment, Anna stored up the memories. This man, this very wealthy, powerful, handsome, and singular man was hers to love for the next very little while. It was a privilege beyond any she could have imagined, and now he wanted to make these last few memories with her, as well.

She might have been able to deny herself, she thought, but she could no longer deny him.

“You still think to leave me, Anna,” he said as she settled on the bed, “and I am telling you quite honestly, I will fight you with every weapon I can find, honorable or not. I don’t want you to go.”

It was the first time he’d said that out loud, but Anna sensed it was the essence of what he was trying to communicate by bringing her back to his bed.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said again more fiercely.

“I’m here,” Anna said, meeting his eyes. “Right now I am here with you in this bed.”

He nodded, his gaze becoming hooded. “Where you will stay until I have pleasured you within an inch of your sanity.” She smiled up at him for that piece of arrogance and brushed his hair back from his forehead.

“Likewise, I’m sure.”

He smiled, a wolfish smile that nonetheless held an element of relief. “No rushing,” he warned.

“No promises,” she countered, scooting her way under him. “And no more lectures.” She wrapped her legs around his flanks and levered up to kiss him. He growled, wrapped his arms around her, and rolled with her across the bed.

“I’m going to fuck you silly,” he warned, positioning her on top of him.

“I’m going to let you.” Anna smiled down at him. “But not just yet.” She tried to scramble away from him, but he caught her by the ankles, slapped her bottom twice audibly, and dragged her back to him, grousing the whole time about troublesome women and naughty housekeepers. This side of him—the playful, exuberant, mating male—fascinated and delighted her.

And she wasn’t averse to his hand on her buttocks, either, particularly not when he was so considerately rubbing the sting from her flesh.

“Shall I spank you when you’re naughty?” she asked when he had her caged beneath his body.

“Please,” he murmured, dipping his head to kiss her. “Spank me as hard and as often as you dare, for with you, I want to be very, very naughty.”

The talking was finished, she surmised, as his tongue began to forage at her mouth and his hand covered her naked breast. He was bent not on seduction, so much as arousal and possession. You are mine, his hands seemed to say. I am yours, his kisses echoed. All mine, the insistent press of his cock against her belly declared.

I am yours, Anna thought, wrapping her legs around him and bringing her sex to stroke over his erection. And for today, for these moments, you are mine.

“Easy,” he breathed, his hand going still just as his fingers closed over her nipple.

“No promises,” Anna retorted. “I will rush if I please, sir.” She glided her fingertips over his nipples and pressed hard with her hips.

“Jesus God, Anna,” the earl whispered. “I want to be careful with you… but you…”

But she wanted him too desperately to appreciate his care. Heat was building below the pit of her stomach, in the place where worry and loneliness could make her feel so empty and desperate. It was the heat of desire, desire for him, and desire to give herself to him. He was bringing her fullness in places that had gone too long wanting and lonely.

“I need you inside me,” she pleaded softly, framing his face with her hands. “Later you can be careful, I promise. Now, just please… I need you.”

“Do not hurry me, Anna. I won’t answer for the consequences if you do.” But to her great relief, he brought the tip of his cock to the entrance of her sex and began to use it to nuzzle through her folds. He was content to explore that pleasure, lazily rooting and thrusting with little apparent focus, sometimes coming close to his goal, sometimes—deliberately, Anna thought—angling himself to one side, too high, the other side…

“You… are tormenting me.”

“Then guide me, Anna,” he coaxed. “Show me where you want me.”

She was wet—he’d made sure of it—and he was wet as a result, as well. Anna’s fingers closed around his shaft and drew him directly to her. She didn’t withdraw her touch until he’d advanced enough to understand where she’d put him, snugged against her but not quite penetrating.

“You let me do this part,” he cautioned, levering up on his forearms to hold her eyes. “I mean it, Anna. I’m not a small man, and you’re… Oh, Jesus.” The last word was said on a near groan as he pressed forward just the smallest increment. “God Almighty,” he breathed as he lowered his face to her neck. “You are so blessedly fucking…”

He is joining his body to mine, Anna thought in wonder. Oh, it felt strange and wonderful and too damned slow by half.

“Westhaven.” She arched her hips tentatively, only to have him go still.

“No,” he ground out. “You damned let me, for once in your stubborn life, take care of you, Anna. Just… let me.”

She liked his cursing and his foul language and the way he was so stern with her, but mostly, she liked the feel of him inching carefully into her body.

And then she didn’t quite like it as much.

“Hold onto me,” Westhaven urged. “Hold onto me but relax, Anna. I won’t move until I feel you relax. Kiss me.” He dipped his head and planted slow, easy kisses on her cheeks, her jaw, her eyelids. When her breathing was steady and she was kissing him back, he let a hand drift to her breast, there to knead and fondle and stroke, until Anna heard herself sigh and felt her whole body going boneless in response. Gradually he pressed his cock forward.

And again met resistance.

He slid a hand under Anna’s buttocks, braced her, and without warning, gave a single hard thrust. She winced and stiffened beneath him but made no sound.

“It will go easier now,” he assured her, moving much more gently. “Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

He had hurt her, Anna thought, but only for a surprising twinge of a moment. It felt better now, and the more deeply he moved into her body, the better she felt.

“I like this,” she said, pleased and breathless and bothered. “Don’t stop, Westhaven. I do like this.”

“Move with me now, Anna. The difficult part is over, and it’s all pleasure from here. Fuck me silly…” he teased, but there was a desperate note beneath the tenderness in his tone even as his thrusts became more purposeful.

Anna tried to match the undulation of her hips to his, and that forced him to slow down, to give her time to catch his rhythm. But what he gave up in speed, he made up for in intensity.

“That’s it,” he whispered a few moments later. “Move like that, and… Anna. God.”

She was a quick study, able to move with him and send her hand wandering up his side to find his nipple, as well. Her thumb feathered across his puckered flesh in the same deliberate rhythm as he made with his cock, then she applied more pressure, actually rubbing him in a small, gratifyingly erotic circle.

“Anna…” He slipped his own hand more firmly around her buttocks. “Slow down… You’ve got to let… Ah, Christ. Don’t stop, love.”

“You either.” She traced her tongue over his other nipple. “For the love of God, don’t you dare stop.”

She tried to quicken their rhythm, but he held firm to the more deliberate pace.

“Westhaven, please…” she wailed softly. “Gayle…”

His name, spoken in that hot, pleading tone, had the effect she’d hoped. He let the tempo increase until she was shaking and keening beneath him in the throes of her pleasure. Still he didn’t stop but bent his head, took her nipple into his mouth, and drew strongly on her. She flailed her hips desperately against him, whispering his name over and over against his chest, her legs locked around his flanks.

He lifted his head, anchored a hand under her buttocks, and Anna felt a wet heat spreading deep in her body as his thrusts slowed and deepened. Westhaven groaned softly in her ear then went quiet above her.

“You,” Westhaven rasped long moments later. “Sweet, ever-loving, merciful, abiding Christ.”

He made it to his feet, carefully extricating his softening cock from Anna’s body. She winced at the sensation of him leaving but made no verbal protest, merely watching him with luminous eyes in the soft predawn shadows. He used the wash water then brought the damp cloth to the bed.

“Spread your legs for me.” She complied, unable to deny him in that moment any intimacy he wanted. Dear God, the things he had made her feel… The cloth was cool and soothing, and yet knowing he wielded it made it arousing, too.

“Take your time,” she murmured. “No need to rush.”

“Naughty.” He smiled approvingly. “But you’ll likely be sore, so no more marzipan for you this morning.”

“And you won’t be sore?”

“As to that”—he tossed the wet cloth over the rim of the basin—“I very well might be. You have much to answer for.”

“Much.”

“Anna?” The earl climbed over her, bracing himself on his forearms, and regarded her very seriously. “Weren’t you going to tell me?”

“Do you need to hear the words?” She met his eyes, feeling sadness crowd out contentment.

“The words?” Guardedness crept up on the tenderness in his eyes.

“Oh, very well,” Anna sighed, brushing fingers through the lock of hair on his forehead. “Of course I love you.” She leaned up and wrapped her arms and legs around him. “I love you desperately. I would not still be here if I didn’t. I would not be leaving you if I didn’t. I love you, Gayle Windham. And I probably always will. There… now are we both thoroughly mortified?”

“I am not mortified,” he whispered, burying his face against her neck. “I am… awed. Beyond words. You honor me, Anna Seaton. You honor me unbelievably.”

He should say more, he knew, but his heart was pounding again, and she could probably feel that, so tightly was he clutching her to him. He should say that he loved her, for he certainly did, but he could not speak, could not contain with words the emotions rioting through him.

“Westhaven?” Anna stroked his back, her tone wary. “Are you well?”

“No,” he said, feeling—merciful God—tears thicken in his throat as he held her even tighter. “I am not exactly well. I am…fucked silly.”

And he meant it in every possible way.

“I tell you that was her,” Stull hissed. “I know my girls, Helmsley, and that’s my little Morgan.”

“It has been more than two years since you’ve seen your little Morgan,” Helmsley said with as much patience as he could muster. “Women change in those years, change radically. Besides, it can’t be her. That girl was laughing and shouting and talking with her swain so the whole park could hear her. Morgan can’t do any of those things.”

“It’s her,” Stull insisted. “I bet you if we follow her and that callow buffoon on her arm, we will find my Anna, as well.”

“You are more than welcome to go haring off in this heat after a girl who obviously is not my sister, though I will grant you a certain resemblance. Morgan’s hair was not so light, though, and I do not think Morgan was as tall as that girl.”

“You said it yourself,” Stull shot back, “women between the ages of fifteen and eighteen will change, delightfully so to my way of thinking.”

“So go on. If you’re so convinced that’s Morgan, trot along. Confirm your hunch.”

Stull gave him the mean look a grossly fat boy will often show when taunted then sighed.

“It is too hot,” Stull conceded. “If she’s in the area, she’ll be back here. The park is the only decent air to be had in this miserable city. I’m parched—what say we find us a flagon or two of summer ale and perhaps the wenches that happily serve it?”

“A pint or two sounds just the thing,” Helmsley said, knowing Stull, true to his two consistent virtues, would pay for it. “And perhaps we can find someone to watch for your girls in the park. I still have their miniatures.”

“Good idea. Put the common man to work and let us do the thinking. What was the name of that inn where we saw the one with the big…?” He cupped his hands over his chest and wiggled his eyebrows.

“The Happy Pig,” Helmsley sighed. It would be The Happy Pig. “I’m sure we can find a couple of sharp eyes there, maybe more than a couple.”

For Anna, the week was passing too quickly. In her mind, the duke’s health would be resolved in those seven days, giving him either a cheerful or a grim prognosis. Westhaven was gone during most of the days, spending time with his parents and sisters, tending to business, dashing out to Willow Bend, or riding in the mornings with his brothers.

But the nights… it had been two nights and three mornings since they’d become lovers in fact, and Anna had all she could do to stumble around the house, appearing to tend to her duties. She was swamped with Gayle Windham, her senses overwhelmed with memories of his tenderness, passion, humor, and generosity in bed. He insisted she find her pleasure, early and often. He talked to her before, during, and after their lovemaking. He teased and comforted and aroused and asked no questions other than what pleased her and what did not.

It all pleased her. She sighed, frowning at the flowers she was trying to arrange in the library’s raised fireplace. Normally, she could arrange a bouquet to her satisfaction without thought, the patterns simply working themselves out. This morning, the daisies and irises were being contrary, and the thought of Westhaven’s hand clamped on her buttocks was only part of the problem.

She heard the door open and assumed Morgan was bringing in fresh water, so she didn’t turn.

“Now this is a fetching sight. I don’t suppose the buttons of your bodice are going to get stuck in the screen?” Anna sat back on her heels and looked up at Westhaven looming over her. He stretched down a hand and hauled her up, bringing her flush against his body.

“Hello, sweetheart.” He smiled then brushed a kiss to her cheek. “Miss me?”

She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“How is your father?” she asked as she always did.

“Improving, I’d say.” But her unwillingness to return his sentiments bothered him, and that showed in his eyes. “I met with Hazlit,” the earl said, letting Anna walk out of his embrace.

“You did?”

“I got nowhere.” Westhaven sat down on the sofa and tugged off his boots. “He is an interesting man—very dark, almost swarthy. It is rumored his grandmother was a Jewess, rumored he is in line for some Scottish title, rumored he is filthy rich.” He sat back and stacked his boots beside the sofa. “I’ll tell you what is true: That man has the presentation of a cool demeanor down to a science, Anna. He gave away exactly nothing but told me to call again in a few days, thank you very much. He will call on Her Grace and hear from her in person that I am to be trusted with her confidences.”

“Her Grace hasn’t given you the substance of his investigation?” I don’t have a few more days to tarry, Anna silently wailed.

“He does not write down his findings,” the earl explained, “and he made the appointment to call on Her Grace, and then my father fell ill. He will reschedule the appointment, and Mother will receive him immediately.”

“You could simply join that appointment.”

“And give the appearance that I am coercing my mother?” the earl countered. “I wish it were simpler, but that man will not be bullied.”

“One wonders how such an odd character would winkle secrets out of my dour Yorkshiremen.”

“So you are from Yorkshire,” the earl replied just as Anna’s hand flew to her lips. “Anna…” His voice was tired, and his eyes were infinitely sad and patient.

“I’m sorry.” Anna felt tears welling and turned away. “I always get like this when my courses are looming.”

“Come here.” The earl extended a hand, and Anna’s feet moved without her willing it, until she was sitting beside him, his arm around her shoulders. For a long, thoughtful moment he merely held her and stroked her back. “I will meet with Hazlit in a day or two, Anna. What he knows will soon be known to me; I’d rather hear it from you.”

She nodded but said nothing, trying to pick through which parts of her story she could bear to tell and how to separate them from the rest. She shifted to the rocking chair, and he let her go, which was good, as she’d be better able to think if they weren’t touching.

“I can tell you some of it,” she said slowly. “Not all.”

“I will fetch us some lemonade while you organize your thoughts. I want to hear whatever you want to tell me, Anna.”

When he came back with the drinks, Anna was rocking slowly, her expression composed.

“You’re beautiful, you know.” The earl handed her a glass. “I put some sugar in it, but not as much as I put in mine.” He locked the door then resumed his seat on the sofa and regarded the woman he loved, the woman who could not trust him.

Since their first encounter several days ago, Anna had not repeated her declaration of love, and he had not raised the topic of her virginity. The moment had never been right, and he wasn’t sure explanations mattered. Many unmarried housekeepers were addressed as Mrs., and the single abiding fact was that she’d chosen to give him her virginity. Him.

“So what can you tell me?” he asked, sitting back and regarding her. She was beautiful but also tired. He was keeping her up nights, and he knew she wasn’t sleeping well in his bed. In sleep, she clung to him, shifting her position so she was spooned around him or he around her.

In sleep, he thought a little forlornly, she trusted him.

“When my grandfather died and my grandmother fell ill,” Anna began, staring at her drink as she rocked, “things at home became difficult. Grandpapa was a very good and shrewd manager, and funds were left that would have been adequate, were they properly managed. My brother was not a good manager.”

Westhaven waited, trying to hear her words and not simply be distracted by the lovely sound of her voice.

“My grandmother encouraged me to take Morgan and flee, at least until Grandmother could meet with the solicitors and figure out a way to get my brother under control. But she was very frail after her apoplexy.”

“You came south, then?” The earl frowned in thought, considering two gently bred and very young women traveling without escort far, far from home. Morgan in particular would have been little more than a child and much in need of assistance when away from familiar surroundings.

“We came south.” Anna nodded. “My grandmother was able to provide me with some references written by her old acquaintances, people who knew me as a child, and I registered with the employment agencies here under an assumed name.”

“Is Anna Seaton your real name?”

“Mostly. I am Anna, and my sister is Morgan.”

He let that go, glad at least he was wasn’t calling her by a false name when passion held him in its thrall. “You found employment.”

“I took the job no one else wanted, keeping house for an old Hebrew gentleman. He was my own personal miracle, that bone the Almighty throws you to suggest you are not entirely forgotten in the supposedly merciful scheme of things.”

“The old Hebrew gentleman was decent to you?” the earl asked, more relieved than he could say to realize whatever price Anna had paid for her decisions, she’d kept her virtue until such time as she chose to share it with him.

“Mr. Glickmann knew immediately Morgan and I were, as he put, in flight. He had scars, Westhaven, from his own experiences with prejudice and mean-spiritedness. He’d been tossed into jail on flimsy pretexts, hounded from one village to another, beaten… He knew what it meant, to live always looking over your shoulder, always worrying, and he gave us the benefit of his experience. He told me the rules for surviving under those circumstances, and those rules have saved us.”

“And is one of those rules to trust no one?”

“It might as well be. I trusted him, though, and if he’d only lived longer, then perhaps he might have been able to help us further. But his life had been hard, and his health was frail. Still, he gave us both glowing characters and left us each the kind of modest bequest a trusted servant might expect. That money has been sent from heaven, just as his characters were.”

She fell silent, and Westhaven considered her story thus far. Difficult, he tried to tell himself, and sad, but hardly tragic. Still, the what ifs beat at him: What if the job nobody wanted had been working for a philandering lecher? What if they’d been snatched up and befriended by an abbess upon their arrival to London? What if Morgan’s deafness had meant no jobs presented themselves?

“Go on,” Westhaven said, more to cut off his own lurid imagination than because he wanted to hear more.

“From Glickmann’s,” Anna continued, “I got employment in the home of a wealthy merchant, but his oldest son was not to be trusted, so I cast around and found your position. The woman the agency picked for the position was at the last minute unable to serve, as she was sorely afflicted with influenza. Rather than make you wait while they interviewed other more suitable candidates, they sent me over, despite my lack of experience and standing.”

“Thank God they did,” the earl muttered. Anna’s fate was hanging by threads and coincidences, with social prejudice, influenza, and pluck standing between her and tragedy.

“What of your brother?” he asked, rolling back his cuffs. “I gather he is part of the problem rather than part of the solution?”

“He is,” Anna said, the tart rejoinder confirming the earl’s suspicions.

“And you aren’t going to tell me the rest of it?”

“I cannot. Grandmother has bound me to silence, not wanting to see the family name dragged through scandal.” The earl stifled the urge to roll his eyes and go on a loud rant about the folly of sacrificing one’s name for the sake of family pride.

“Anna.” He sat forward. “You have no idea—none at all—how lucky you are not to be serving men in doorways for a penny a poke, you and Morgan both, as the pox slowly killed you. Sending you south was rank foolishness, and I can only consider your grandmother devised this scheme because she considered the situation desperate.”

“It was,” Anna said, “and I do know, Westhaven. I have seen those women, their skirts hiked over their backs, their eyes dead, their lives already done while some jolly fellow bends them over to have a go before toddling home after his last pint.”

If she’d been close enough to see that much, Westhaven thought… Ye gods.

“Let me hold you,” he said, rising and tugging her to her feet. “When you are ready, I will hear the rest of it, Anna. You are safe with me now, and that’s all that matters.”

She went into his arms willingly, but he could feel the resistance in her, the doubt, the unwillingness to trust. He led her up the stairs, her hand in his, determined to bind her to him with passion if nothing else.

Each time they were together, he introduced her to new pleasures, new touches, new ways to move. Tonight, he put her on her hands and knees and had her grip the headboard as he sank into her deeply from behind. She met him thrust for thrust, and when her pleasure had her convulsing hard around his cock, he couldn’t hold back any longer. And like a stallion, he let his spent weight cover her, resting along her back, his cheek pressed to her spine.

“Down,” he panted, easing one of her feet back several inches to explain himself. Anna straightened her knees and slipped to her stomach as his cock slid wetly from her body. He followed her, blanketing her back with his greater weight.

“Are you all right?” He kissed her cheek and paused to suckle her earlobe.

“I am boneless,” Anna murmured. “I like this, though.”

“What this?” He nuzzled at her neck.

“The way you like to cuddle afterward.”

“I am a rarity in that regard,” he assured her. “I know of only one other person in this entire bed so prone to shameless displays of affection.” His moved his hips partly off her but shifted only a little to the side to kiss her nape.

“You trust me,” he said, biting her neck gently.

When she said nothing, he got off the bed to use the basin and water. He washed his hands and his genitals then came back and stood frowning at her for a long moment.

“You do trust me, but only in this,” he said again. “You would let me take you in any position, anywhere I pleased, as often as I pleased.”

Anna rolled to her back and hiked up on her elbows, wariness in her expression. “You have never given me reason not to trust you in this bed. I am safe with you.”

“You don’t believe that. You might believe you are safe from me, from the violence and selfishness that can make any man a rutting boar, but you do not believe you are safe with me.”

There was such defeat in his tone, such resignation, Anna was almost glad this would be their last night together. In the morning, he’d ride off to meet with his brothers, and she’d gather up her sister and her belongings and board a coach for Manchester. She’d lie in his arms for this one final night, hold him close, breathe in his scent, and love him. But it would be their last night, and this time tomorrow, she’d be far, far away.

It was that simple to do and that impossible to bear.