The Heir

Fifteen

“I TELL YOU, IT’S TIME TO GO HOME,” HELMSLEY SAID for the fourth time.

“Not when we’re so close,” Stull argued in a whispered hiss. “The lads in the park saw that girl again, the one who looks like Morgan, and they trailed her to Mayfair, just a few streets over from the earl’s home. I’m telling you, we’ve found them both.”

“Morgan is deaf and mute,” Helmsley shot back. “No deaf mute is going to be coddled in the great homes of Mayfair, not in any capacity. Even the footmen have to be handsome as lords, for chrissakes.”

Stull glared at him sullenly. “I am beginning to think you don’t want me to find your sisters. You’d rather have them wandering the slums of London with no protection whatsoever, when their every need will be met in my care. What kind of brother are you, Helmsley, to abandon the chase now, when they’re almost in our grasp at last?”

He was an awful brother, of course. The question was ludicrous coming from Stull. But he wasn’t a stupid brother, particularly, and if he was ever to get out of debt, he needed to find Anna and Morgan, hand them over to Stull, and let them make shift as best they could. They were damnably resourceful; their haring all over the realm for two years on little more than pin money proved that much, at least.

But did he really want to be there when Anna realized what he’d done? When Morgan dissolved into tears? When they realized the extent of his betrayal?

“What aren’t you telling me, Helmsley?” Stull’s look became belligerent. “You threw in with me when the old man died, and don’t think you can turn about now. I’ll go crying to the magistrate so fast the Lords won’t be able to protect you.”

Lie down with dogs, Grandpapa used to say, and you wake up with fleas.

“I’m not like you, Stull.” Helmsley tossed himself down in a chair, affecting a manner of dejection. “I have been nothing but a burden and an expense to you on this trip. One has one’s pride.” He managed just the right ashamed, glancing connection with Stull’s eyes and saw the baron’s ponderous mind catching the scent.

“You found those fellows to watch the park and the earl’s house,” Helmsley went on. “You thought of drawing Westhaven out to the country with that fire, you provide all the blunt for the whole scheme, while I merely stand by and watch.”

“I could spare you for a bit,” Stull said. “If you want to head back north, I can manage things here and send word when I have the girls. Might be better that way.”

His porcine eyes narrowed as he circled back to his earlier thought.

“You aren’t thinking of peaching on me to the magistrate, Helmsley? You’re the one who’s pissed away your grandpapa’s fortune and your sister’s dowries. Don’t think I won’t be recalling that if you turn on me now.”

“I know better, Stull.” Helmsley shook his head. “You know my dirty business, and I know yours, and we both know where our best interests are served.”

“Well said.” Stull nodded, chins jiggling. “Now, what say we nip downstairs and grab a bite for luncheon? You can’t leave today, old man. Too deuced hot, and you must make your farewells this evening to that bit of French muslin we came across last night.”

“I can spend tonight in Town,” Helmsley agreed. “I’ll go north first thing in the morning and leave this matter entirely in your capable hands.”

“Best thing.” Stull nodded. “I’ll send word when I have the girls.”

“The prodigals return.” Dev smiled as Anna and the earl trundled in the back door from the townhouse gardens. “Westhaven.” He extended his hand to his brother, only to be pulled into a brief hug. Over Westhaven’s shoulder, Dev shot a puzzled look at Anna, who merely smiled and shook her head.

“Good to be back,” Westhaven said. “My thanks for keeping an eye on things here, and Amery and his neighboring relations send their felicitations.”

“By that you mean, Greymoor recalled I outbid him for the little mare he wanted for his countess and has decided to let bygones be bygones.”

“He sent his felicitations,” the earl repeated, “as does Heathgate, who as magistrate provided us most gracious hospitality these past days while the fire was being investigated. Have we anything to eat?”

“I can see to that,” Anna said. “Why don’t you wash off the dust of the road, and I’ll have your luncheon served on the terrace.”

“Join us?” the earl said, laying a hand on her arm.

Her eyes met his, and she saw he would not argue, but he was asking. She nodded and made for the kitchen, trying to muster a scold for giving in to his foolishness. At Willowdale, she’d been a guest of the Marquis and Marchioness of Heathgate, as Heathgate served as the local magistrate. There she’d been treated as a guest and as the earl’s respected… what? Friend? His fiancée? His… nothing. Certainly not his housekeeper. Anna had allowed the fiction out of manners and out of a sense it was the last chapter in her dealings with Westhaven, an unreal series of days that allowed them a great deal of freedom in each other’s company.

And at night, he’d stolen into her room, slipped into her bed, and held her in his arms while they talked until they both fell asleep. He’d told her stories of growing up among a herd of the duke’s offspring on the rambling acres of Morelands, of his last parting from his brother Bart, and his suspicions regarding a second ducal grandchild.

She told him what it was like to grow up secure in her grandparents’ love, surrounded by acres of flowers and hot houses and armies of gardeners. But mostly, Anna had listened. She listened to his voice, deep, masculine, and beautiful in the darkness. She listened to his hands, to the patterns of tenderness and possession they traced on her bare skin. She listened to his body, becoming as familiar to her as her own, and to the way he used it to express both affection and protectiveness. She listened to his mind, to the discipline with which he used it to provide for all whom he cared for.

She listened to his heart and heard it silently—and unsuccessfully—plead with her for her trust.

“And there be our bird,” the dirty little man cackled to an even dirtier little boy.

“So you’ll tell the fat swell we seen her?” the child asked, eyeing the pretty lady with the flower basket.

“I will, but happen not today, me lad. He pays good, and we’re due for another installment when I call on him tonight. Too hot to do more than stand about in the shade anyways—might as well get paid fer it, aye?”

“Aye.” The child grinned at the soundness of his superior’s reasoning and went back to getting paid to watch.

“You tell old Whit if the lady goes out, mind, and be ready for yer shift again tomorrow at first light.”

“You use the same employment agency as Her Grace,” Hazlit began, his eyes meeting the earl’s unflinchingly. “So I started there and eventually found copies of references your housekeeper brought with her two years ago. They all came from older women, ladies of quality now residing in York and its surrounds, so I went north.”

“You went north,” the earl repeated, needing and dreading to hear what came next.

“On her application,” Hazlit went on, “Mrs. Seaton put she was willing to work as a housekeeper or in a flower shop, which caught my eye. It’s an odd combination of skills, but it gave me a place to start. I took her sketches and what I knew, and wrote to a colleague of mine in York. Some answers essentially fell into my lap from there.”

“What sketches?”

“Mrs. Seaton goes to the park occasionally, the same as most of London in the summer,” Hazlit said. He opened a folder and drew forth a charcoal sketch that bore a striking resemblance to Anna Seaton.

“It’s quite good,” the earl said, frowning. Hazlit had caught not just Anna’s appearance but also her sweetness and courage and determination. Still, to think Hazlit had sketched this when Anna was unaware rankled.

“It is your property.” A flicker of sympathy graced Hazlit’s austere features.

“My thanks.” The earl set aside the portrait, and gave Hazlit his full attention. “What answers fell into your lap?”

“Some,” Hazlit cautioned, “not all. There are not charges laid against her I could find in York or London, but her brother is looking for her. Her name is Anna Seaton James, she is the oldest daughter of Vaughn Hammond James and Elva James nee Seaton, who both died in a carriage accident when Anna was a young girl. Her sister, Morgan Elizabeth James, was involved in the same accident and indirectly lost her hearing as a result. The heir, Wilberforce Hammond James, was the only son and resides at the family seat, Rosecroft, in Yorkshire, along the Ouse to the northwest of the city.”

“Granddaughter to an earl,” the earl muttered, frowning. “Why did Anna flee?”

“As best my colleague and I can piece together,” Hazlit replied, “the old earl tied up his money carefully, so the heir was unable to fritter away funds needed for the girls and their grandmother. The heir managed to do a deal of frittering, nonetheless, and I took the liberty of buying up a number of his markers.”

“Enterprising of you,” the earl said, reaching for the stack of papers Hazlit passed to him. “Ye Gods…” He sorted through the IOUs and markers, his eyebrows rising. “This is a not-so-small fortune by Yorkshire standards.”

“My guess, and it’s only a guess, is that Anna knows of the mishandling of her grandfather’s estate perpetrated by the present earl, and she made the mistake of trying to reason with her brother. Then too, the younger sister, Morgan, is very vulnerable to exploitation, and if a man will steal from his sisters, he’ll probably do worse without a qualm.”

“You manage to imply a host of nasty outcomes, Mr. Hazlit,” the earl observed, “though nothing worse than my imagination has concocted. Any advice from this point out?”

“Don’t let them out of your sight,” Hazlit said. “It is not kidnapping if you are a concerned and titled brother looking for sisters whom you can paint as flighty at best. He can snatch either one, and there will be nothing you or anyone else could do about it. Nothing.”

“Can he marry them off?”

“Of course. For Morgan, in particular, that would be simple, as she was arguably impaired by her deafness, and marriage is considered to be in a woman’s best interests.”

“Considered by men,” the earl replied with a thin smile. “Well, thank you, Hazlit. I will convince the ladies to remain glued to my side, and all will be well.”

Hazlit stood, accepting the hand proffered by the earl. “Better yet, marry the woman to someone you can trust to look out for her and to manage Helmsley. The situation could resolve itself quite easily.”

“You are not married, Mr. Hazlit, are you?”

“I do not at this time enjoy the wedded state,” Hazlit said, his smile surprisingly boyish. “I do enjoy the unwedded state.”

“Thus sayeth we all,” the earl said, escorting Hazlit to the front door. “Those of us in expectation of titles sometimes particularly enjoy the unwedded state—while we can.” Something briefly shone in Hazlit’s dark eyes—regret? Sympathy?—it was gone before the earl could analyze it.

“Good day, my lord,” Hazlit said, his eyes drifting to the huge bouquet on the table, “and good luck keeping your valuables safe.”

The earl retreated to his study, penned a note asking Val to return to the townhouse at his earliest convenience, and another thanking Heathgate for the recent hospitality. For all Hazlit had been informative, though, Westhaven had the sense there were still answers only Anna could provide.

So he sat for a long time, sipping his sweetened lemonade, contemplating the bouquet in the fireplace, and considering how exactly he could keep Anna Seaton—Anna James—safe when her valise was packed and sitting on her bed, just as it had been the night they’d been called out to Willow Bend.

When darkness was beginning to fall, Westhaven was pleased to see both his brothers would be joining him for dinner. Val, with music books, wardrobe, and horse in tow, had rejoined the earl’s household, claiming the duke was bloody well enough recovered to drive anybody to Bedlam.

Dev was clearly trying to contain his questions about the fire out in Surrey, but when the meal was consumed, sweets and all, the earl asked his brothers to take an after-dinner stroll with him to the stables. Once there, away from the house and its balconies, he explained what Hazlit had told him and enlisted his brothers’ support in seeing to it Anna and Morgan were kept safe.

“But you can’t keep them under surveillance every minute,” Dev protested. “They are intelligent women, and they will soon know we’re up to something.”

“I’ll talk to Anna tonight,” the earl said. “She has to be made to see reason, or I’ll bundle her off to Morelands myself, there to be confined until she’ll marry me.”

Val exchanged a look with Dev. “So the ducal blood will out, and you’re taking the Roman example of seizing and carrying off your bride.”

Westhaven sighed. “I am no more willing to force a marriage on Anna than she would be willing to take her vows on those terms. I would live down to her worst expectations were I to even attempt it.”

“Glad you comprehend that much,” Dev said. “Best of luck convincing her she needs bodyguards. Morgan, at least, can’t argue with us.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Val said, his expression preoccupied. “I have missed my piano though, so I’ll leave you, Westhaven, to reason with Anna, while I bare my soul to my art.”

“Damn.” Dev watched his youngest brother depart and smiled at the earl. “And here I’ve been baring everything else to the wenches at the Pleasure House. Which of us, do you suppose, has it right?”

“Neither.” The earl smiled. “When it comes down to it, I’m having to admit in the things that matter most, it’s the duke who has gotten closest to the mark.”

Devlin cast him a curious glance then ambled off to tuck in his horses. Westhaven was alone in the darkened alley when he heard the barest thread of a whisper summoning him farther into the shadows.

“This is short notice, your lordship.” Hazlit studied the Earl of Westhaven by the light of the candles in the man’s library. It was a handsome room, and Hazlit had noted at their earlier meeting the whole house appeared well cared for. The bouquets were fresh, the wood work polished, the windows sparkling, and not a speck of dust to be seen.

“I apologize for the lateness of the hour, Hazlit,” the earl said. “May I offer you a drink?”

“You may.” Hazlit accepted the offer, in part because the quality of the drink served told him about a man’s character, but also because he had the sense the earl was offering not in an attempt to manipulate but out of sheer good breeding.

“Whiskey or brandy?”

“Whatever you’re having,” Hazlit replied. “I assume we meet to discuss the same matter?”

“We do,” the earl said, handing Hazlit a generous tot of whiskey. “To your health.”

“Yours.” Hazlit sipped cautiously then paused. “Lovely, but I don’t recognize it.”

“It’s a private label.” The earl smiled. “Heathgate owns the distillery and calls this his bribing vintage.”

Hazlit nodded. He had sampled this vintage before but not often, and it wasn’t something he’d admit about one client to another. “My compliments. Now, how can I assist you?”

“Shall we sit?” The earl gestured to the long, comfortable-looking leather sofa, and Hazlit sank into one corner. The earl took up a rocking chair, his drink in hand. “I have become aware my house is being watched, front and back. I had a very interesting discussion last night when I went to bid my horse good night. I was accosted by an urchin loyal to David Worthington, Viscount Fairly, who was picketed in my mews unbeknownst to me.”

Hazlit merely nodded, his eyes locked on the earl.

“More significantly,” the earl went on, “I was informed my house is also being watched by the minions of one Whit, who is in the employ of two gentlemen from the North, one of whom is obese.” The earl paused to sip his drink. “I recently purchased a modest property a short distance from Town, Willow Bend by name. The stables there were burned last week, and other buildings were soaked with lamp oil. By chance, acquaintances happened to see the stables burning and summoned help before the rest of the property could be set ablaze.

“Fortunately, the place was not yet occupied, and only the stables were lost. I hired a runner, who was able to deduce that two men, well dressed, one quite portly, bought a quantity of lamp oil the day before my stables burned, from the last likely source before one leaves Town for the Surrey countryside.”

“You suspect these men were sent after Mrs. Seaton,” Hazlit suggested.

The earl met Hazlit’s eyes. “I suspect one of them of being her brother, the earl. Is he reported to be portly?”

“He is not.” Hazlit fished in a pocket of his coat, and brought out a small pad of a paper. “Have you a pen?”

The earl got up and went to his desk, setting out ink, pen, sand, and knife on the blotter. Hazlit brought his drink to the desk, assumed the earl’s wingback chair, and with the earl looking over his shoulder, sketched a figure of a man.

“Helmsley,” Hazlit said tersely, tearing off the sheet and starting another sketch, this one of the man’s face. While Hazlit sketched, the earl studied the little ink drawing.

“Helmsley has bulk to him,” Hazlit said as he worked. “He’s close to six feet, and bad living is going to ensure middle age is a short interlude before the man’s shoulders are stooped, his gut sagging, and his face lined. There.”

Hazlit tore off the second drawing. “He bears a slight resemblance to your housekeeper around the eyes and perhaps in the texture and color of the hair.”

“He does.” The earl frowned. “He’s older than Anna?”

“He is. He is not your portly man, though. He qualifies as well fed but not obese.”

“Can you take this picture to the man who sold the lamp oil?” the earl suggested, picking up the second drawing. “And maybe get a description of the other fellow?”

“I can. I can also go back north and ask around regarding the portly man.”

“That will take some time.” The earl leaned against the arm of the sofa. “I hardly need tell you to spare no expense.” He appeared lost in thought, and Hazlit waited. “Do you think Anna’s grandmother is well enough to travel?”

“She hasn’t been seen much off the estate since her husband died,” Hazlit replied. “That does not suggest good health, but it might also mean she’s a virtual prisoner.”

The earl looked up sharply, and Hazlit had the sense his casual comment snapped something into place in the earl’s mind.

“If we cannot establish Anna’s brother is here in London,” the earl said slowly, “then I want you to go north and figure out just where the hell he is. I believe he is the primary threat to Anna’s welfare, and his leverage is that he holds her grandmother’s welfare in his hands.”

“And the fat man?” Hazlit rose. “We know he’s in Town and that he’s probably lying in wait for Mrs. Seaton.”

“But waiting for what?” the earl mused. “For the brother to come to Town and have the legal right to reclaim his sisters, perhaps?”

“Good question,” Hazlit agreed. “Let me take the sketches with me, and maybe by tomorrow, I can have some answers for you.”

“My thanks,” the earl said, showing his guest to the front door.

Westhaven sat in the library for long moments, sipping cold tea and staring at the first sketch. When Anna came in, he slid the drawing into a drawer then rose to meet her.

“You are up late,” she observed, going into his arms. He kissed her cheek, and Anna squealed. “And your lips are cold.”

“So warm them up,” he teased, kissing her cheek again. “I’ve been swilling cold tea and whiskey and putting off having an argument with you.”

“What are we going to argue about?” Anna asked, pulling back enough to regard him warily.

“Your safety,” he said, tugging her by the wrist to the sofa. “I want to ask you, one more time, to let me help you, Anna. I have the sense if you don’t let me assist you now, it might soon be too late.”

“Why now?” she asked, searching his eyes.

“You have your character,” he pointed out. “Val told me you asked him for it, and he gave it to you, as well as one for Morgan.”

“A character is of no use to me if it isn’t in my possession.”

“Anna,” he chided, his thumb rubbing over her wrist, “you could have told me.”

“That was not our arrangement. Why can you not simply accept I must solve my own problems? Why must you take this on, too?”

He looped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her against him. “Aren’t you the one telling me I should lean on my family a little more? Let my brothers help with business matters? Set my mother and sisters some tasks?”

“Yes.” She buried her nose against his shoulder. “But I am not the heir to the Duke of Moreland. I am a simple housekeeper, and my problems are my own.”

“I’ve tried,” he said, kissing her temple. “I’ve tried and tried and tried to win your trust, Anna, but I can’t make you trust me.”

“No,” she said, “you cannot.”

“You leave me no choice. I will take steps on my own tomorrow to safeguard you and your sister, as well.”

She just nodded, leaving him to wonder what it was she didn’t say. His other alternative was to wash his hands of her, and that he could not do. “Come up to bed with me?”

“Of course,” she said and let him draw her to her feet.

He said nothing, not with words, not as they undressed each other, not as they settled into one another’s arms on his big, soft bed. But when communications were offered by touch, by sigh and kiss and caress, he told her loved her and would lay down his life to keep her safe.

She told him she loved him, that she would always treasure the memories she held of him, that she would never love another.

And she told him good-bye.

The next day started out in a familiar pattern, with the earl riding in the park with his brothers and Anna joining Cook on the weekly marketing. The women took two footmen as was their usual custom. Unbeknownst to Anna, the earl had taken both men aside and acquainted them with the need to serve as bodyguards and not just porters.

When the earl and his brothers were safely away from the mews, he wasted no time informing them of recent developments.

“So as long as this Whit is content to bilk his employers and draw out his surveillance contract,” the earl concluded, “we have some time, but it becomes more imperative than ever that Anna not be left alone.”

“Where is she now?” Dev asked, frowning at his horse’s neck.

“At market, with a footman on each arm, both ordered not to let her out of their sight.”

“Let’s ride home by way of the market,” Dev suggested. “I have an odd feeling.”

Val and the earl exchanged an ominous look. Whether it was Dev’s Irish granny, his own instincts, or mere superstition, when Dev got a hunch, it was folly to ignore it.

They trotted through the streets, the morning crowds thinned by the heat. The market was bustling, however, with all manner of produce and household sundries for sale as women, children, and the occasional man strolled from vendor to vendor.

“Split up,” the earl directed, handing his reins to a boy and flipping the child a coin. “Walk him.”

Val and Dev moved off through the crowd, even as the back of the earl’s neck began to prickle. What if Fairly’s guardian urchin was wrong, and Whit had gotten tired of watching in the heat? What if Anna had chosen today to slip out of his life? What if the fat man was a procurer, and Anna was already on her way to some foul crib on the Continent?

A disturbance in the crowd to his left had the earl pushing his way through the throng. In the center of a circle of gawking onlookers, Anna stood, her wrist in the grasp of a large, seriously overweight man. Westhaven took one step back then set his fingers to his lips to emit a shrill whistle.

“Come quietly, Anna,” the fat man crooned. “I’ll be good to you, and you won’t have to live like a menial anymore. Now don’t make me summon the beadle, my girl.”

Anna merely stood there, resistance in every line of her posture.

“We can collect little Morgan,” the man went on, happy with his plans, “and be back to York in a week’s time. You’ll enjoy seeing your granny again, won’t you?”

The mention of Morgan’s name brought a martial light into Anna’s eye, and she looked up, fire in her gaze, until she saw Westhaven. She sent him a heartrending look, one it took him an instant to decipher: Protect my sister.

“Morgan isn’t with me,” Anna said, her tone resolute. “You get me or nothing, Stull. And I’ll come quietly if we leave this minute for York, otherwise…”

“Otherwise,” Stull sneered, jerking her arm, “nothing. You are well and truly caught, Anna James, and we’ll find your sister, too. Otherwise, indeed.”

The earl stepped out of the crowd and twisted the fat man’s hand off Anna’s wrist. “Otherwise, bugger off, sir.”

Stull rubbed his wrist, eyeing the earl truculently. “I don’t know what she’s told you, good fellow”—he tried for an avuncular tone—“or what she’s promised you, but I will thank you to take your hands off my wife and leave us to return peaceably to our home in Yorkshire.”

The earl snorted and wrapped an arm around Anna’s shoulders. “You are no more her husband than I am the King. You have accosted a woman for no reason and treated her abominably. This woman is in my employ and under my protection. You will leave her in peace.”

“Leave her in peace?!” Stull screeched. “Leave her in peace when I’ve traveled the length and breadth of this country seeking just to bring her home? And she’s dragged her poor, addled sister with her, from one sorry scheme to another, when I have a betrothal contract signed and duly witnessed. It’s no wonder I don’t have her sued for breach of promise, b’gad.”

The earl let him bellow on until Dev and Val were in position on either side of the ranting Stull, a constable frowning at Val’s elbow.

“Sir,” the earl cut in, his voice cold enough to freeze the ears off of anybody with any sense. “You have produced no such contract, and you are not family to the lady. I do not deal with intermediaries, and I do not deal with arsonists.” He nodded to Dev and Val, each of whom seized Stull by one beefy arm. “I want this man arrested for arson, Constable, and held without bond. The lady might also want to bring charges for assault, but we can sort that out when you have him in custody.”

“Along with ye, then,” the constable ordered Stull. “His lordship’s word carries weight with me, and that puts you under arrest, sir. Come peaceable, and we won’t have to apply the King’s justice to your fat backside.”

The crowd laughed as Dev and Val obligingly escorted their charge in the constable’s wake. The earl was left with Anna in his arms and more questions than ever.

“Come.” He led Anna to his horse and tossed her up, then climbed up behind her. He was on Dev’s big young gelding, and the horse stood like a statue until Westhaven gave the command to walk on. Anna was silent and the earl himself in no mood to hold a difficult discussion on the back of a horse. He kept an arm around her waist while she leaned quietly against his chest until they were in the mews.

When the grooms led the horse away, Westhaven tugged Anna by the wrist across the alley and through the back gardens, pausing only when Morgan came into sight, a basket over her arm.

“Morgan!” Anna dropped the earl’s hand and rushed to wrap her arms around her sister. “Oh, thank God you’re safe.”

Morgan shot a quizzical look over Anna’s shoulder at the earl.

“We ran into Stull in the market,” the earl explained, watching the sisters hugging each other. “He was of a mind to take his betrothed north without further ado. I was not of a mind to allow it.”

“Thank God,” Morgan said quietly but clearly. Anna stepped back and blinked.

“Morgan?” She eyed her sister closely. “Did you just say ‘thank God?’”

“I did.” Morgan met her sister’s gaze. “I did.”

“You can hear and speak,” the earl observed, puzzled. “How long have you feigned deafness?”

“When you went out to Willow Bend, Anna.” Morgan’s eyes pleaded for understanding. “Lord Val took me to see Lord Fairly. He’s a physician—a real physician, and he was able to help. I’ve not wanted to tell you, for fear it wouldn’t last, but it’s been days, and oh, the things I’ve heard… the wonderful, beautiful things I’ve heard.”

“I am so happy for you.” Anna pulled her close again. “So damned happy for you, Morgan. Talk to me, please, talk to me until my ears fall off.”

“I love you,” Morgan said. “I’ve wanted to say that—just that—for years. I love you, and you are the best sister a deaf girl ever had.”

“I love you, too,” Anna said, tears threatening, “and this is the best gift a deaf girl’s sister ever had.”

“Well, come along you two.” The earl put a sister under each arm. “As pleasing as this development is, there is still a great deal of trouble brewing.” As both sisters were in tears, it clearly fell to him to exercise some rational process, otherwise the lump in his own throat might have to be acknowledged.

He ushered them into his study, poured lemonade all around, and considered the situation as Anna and Morgan beamed at each other like idiots.

“Don’t forget your sugar,” Anna said, turning her smile on him. “Oh, Westhaven, my sister can hear! This makes it all worthwhile, you know? If Morgan and I hadn’t fled York, she might never have seen this physician. And if you can hear and speak…”

“I cannot be so easily declared incompetent,” Morgan finished, grinning.

“Unless…” Anna’s smile dimmed, and she glanced hesitantly at the earl. “Unless Stull and Helmsley convince the authorities you were feigning your disability, and that would be truly peculiar.”

The earl frowned mightily. “Rather than speculate on that matter, what can you tell me about this betrothal contract Stull ranted about. Is it real?”

“It is,” Anna said, holding his gaze, her smile fading to a grimace. “It is very real. There are two contracts, in fact. One obligates me to marry him in exchange for sums he will pay to my brother; the other obligates Morgan to marry him in the event I do not, for the same consideration.”

“So your brother has sold you to that hog.” It made sense enough. “And you were unwilling to go join him in his wallow.”

“Morgan was to have come with me,” Anna added, “or I with her. Whichever sister he married, he agreed to provide a home for the other sister, as well. Even if I married him, I could not have kept Morgan safe from him.”

“He is depraved, then?”

“I would not have rejected a suitor out of hand,” Anna said, her chin coming up, “just for an unfortunate fondness for his victuals. Stull makes the beasts appear honorable, though.”

“And you know this how?”

“Grandmother hired on a twelve-year-old scullery maid,” Anna said wearily. “The girl was nigh torn asunder trying to bear Stull’s bastard. The baby did not live, but the mother did—barely. She was not”—Anna glanced at Morgan—“mature for her years, and she had no family. Stull preyed on her then tossed her aside.”

“Who is he? He comports himself like a man of consequence, at least in his own mind.”

“Hedley Arbuthnot, eighth Baron Stull,” Anna said. “My betrothed.”

“Don’t be so sure about that.” The earl looked at her, frowning. “I want to see these contracts, as in the first place, I don’t think a conditional betrothal is enforceable, and in the second, there is the question of duress.” And a host of other legal questions, such as whether Helmsley had executed the contracts on behalf of his sisters, and if Morgan was a minor when he did. Or did he sign on behalf of Anna, who was not a minor, and thus bind himself rather than her?

And where in the tangle of questions did the matter of guardianship of the ladies’ funds come into it?

The earl looked at Morgan. “You are going to let my brother escort you to the ducal mansion. Stull does not know where you are and does not know you have regained your ability to speak and hear. It is to our advantage to keep it that way.”

“You”—the earl turned an implacable glare on Anna—“are going to go unpack your damned valise and meet me back here, and no running off. Your word, or I will alert the entire staff to your plans, and you will be watched from here to Jericho unless I am with you.”

“You have my word,” she said quietly, rising to go, but turning at the last to give Morgan one more hug.

She left a ringing silence behind her, in which the earl helped himself to the whiskey decanter, pouring a hefty tot into his lemonade.

“So what hasn’t she told me?” The earl turned and met Morgan’s gaze.

“I don’t know what she has told you.”

“Precious bloody little.” The earl took a swallow of his cocktail. “That she was keeping confidences and could not allow me to assist her. Christ.”

“She was. My grandmother made us both promise our situation would not become known outside the three of us. Anna and I have both kept our word in that regard, until now.”

The earl ran a hand through his hair. “How could this come about? That Anna could be obligated to marry a loathsome excuse for a bore—or boar?”

“It was cleverly done.” Morgan sighed and stood, crossing her arms as she regarded the back gardens through the French doors. “Helmsley sent Grandmother and me off to visit a friend of hers, then took Anna aside and told her if she didn’t sign the damned contract, he’d have me declared incompetent. In a similar fashion, he told me if I didn’t sign the contract, then he’d put a pillow over Grandmother’s face. Anna doesn’t know about that part, and I don’t think he’d do it…”

“But he could. What a rotter, this brother of yours. And lousy at cards, I take it?”

“Very. We were in hock up to our eyeballs two years ago.”

“So he probably told your grandmother some Banbury tale, as well,” the earl said, staring at his drink. “What do you think would make Anna happy now?”

“To be home,” Morgan said. “To know Grandmother is safe, to see Grandpapa’s gardens again, to know I am safe. To stop running and looking over her shoulder and pretending to be something we’re not.”

“And you, Morgan?” The earl shifted to stand beside her. “What do you want?”

“I want Anna to be happy,” Morgan said, swallowing and blinking. “She was so… So pretty and happy and loving when Grandpapa was alive. And the past two years, she’s been reduced to drudgery just so I would be safe. She deserves to be happy, to be free and safe and…” She was crying, unable to get out the rest of whatever she wanted to say. The earl put down his drink, fished in his pocket for his handkerchief, and pulled Morgan into his arms.

“She deserves all that,” he agreed, patting her shoulder. “She’ll have it, too, Morgan. I promise you she’ll have what she wants.”

When Val and Dev joined him in the library less than an hour later, Anna was still unpacking while Morgan was busy packing. The earl explained what he knew of the situation, pleased to hear the magistrate had agreed to delay Stull’s bond hearing for another two days.

“That gives us time to get Morgan to Their Graces,” the earl said, glancing at Val. “Unless you object?”

“It wouldn’t be my place to object,” Val said, his lips pursed, “but I happen to concur. Morgan can use some pampering, and Her Grace feels miserable for having set Hazlit on their trail. This will allow expiation of Her Grace’s sins, and distract His Grace, as well.”

“Creates a bit of a problem for you,” Dev pointed out.

“How so?” Val frowned.

“How are you going to continue to convince our sire you are a mincing fop, when every time Morgan walks by, you practically trip over your tongue?”

“My tongue, Dev, not my cock. If you could comprehend the courage it takes to be deaf and mute in a society that thinks it is neither, you would be tripping at the sight of her, as well.”

Dev spared a look at the earl, who kept his expression carefully neutral.

“You will both escort Morgan to Their Graces later this afternoon,” Westhaven said. “For now, I’d like you to remain here, keeping an eye on Anna.”

“You don’t trust her?” Dev asked, censorship in his tone.

“She gave her word not to run, but I am not convinced Stull was the only threat to her. Her own brother got her involved in this scheme with Stull, and he’s the one who benefits should Stull get his hands on Anna. Where is Helmsley, and what is his part in this?”

“Good question,” Dev allowed. “Go call on Their Graces, then, and leave the ladies in our capable hands.”

Val nodded. “His Grace will be flattered into a full recovery to think you’d entrust a damsel in distress to his household.”

The earl nodded, knowing it was a good point. Still, he was sending Morgan to the duke and duchess because their home was safe, a near fortress, with servants who knew better than to allow strangers near the property or the family members. And it was nearby, which made getting Morgan there simple. Then, too, Anna saw the wisdom of it, making it one less issue he had to argue and bully her through.

He found Anna in her sitting room, sipping tea, the evil valise nowhere in sight.

“I’m off to Moreland House,” the earl informed her, “to ask Their Graces to provide Morgan sanctuary. I will ask on your behalf, as well, if it’s what you want.”

“Do you want me to go with her?” Anna asked, her gaze searching his.

“I do not,” he said. “It’s one thing to ask my father and mother to keep Morgan safe, when Stull isn’t even sure she’s in London. It’s another to ask them to keep you safe, when I am on hand to do so and have already engaged the enemy, so to speak.”

“Stull isn’t your enemy,” Anna said, dropping her gaze. “If it hadn’t been him, my brother would have found somebody else.”

“I am not so convinced of that, Anna.” The earl lowered himself into a rocking chair. “The society in York is provincial compared to what we have here in London. My guess is that there were likely few willing to collude with your brother in defrauding your grandfather’s estate, shackling you and Morgan to men you found repugnant and impoverishing your sickly grandmother into the bargain.”

“That is blunt speech,” she said at length.

“I am angry, Anna.” The earl rose again. “I fear diplomacy is beyond me.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“Oh, I want to be,” he assured her, his gaze raking her up and down. “I want to be furious, to turn you over my knee and paddle you until my hand hurts, to shake you and rant and treat the household to a tantrum worthy of His Grace.”

“I am sorry.” Anna’s gaze dropped to the carpet.

“I am not angry with you,” the earl said gravely, “but your brother and his crony will have much to answer for.”

“You are disappointed in me.”

“I am concerned for you,” the earl said tiredly. “So concerned I am willing to seek the aid of His Grace, and to pull every string and call in every favor the old man can spare me. Just one thing, Anna?”

She met his gaze, looking as though she was prepared to hear the worst: Pack your things, get out of my sight, give me back those glowing characters.

“Be here when I get back,” the earl said with deadly calm. “And expect to have a long talk with me when this is sorted out.”

She nodded.

He waited to see if she had anything else to add, any arguments, conditions, or demurrals, but for once, his Anna apparently had the sense not to fight him. He turned on his heel and left before she could second guess herself.