Grace Burrowes - The Heir

When Dr. Garner reappeared to check the wound, the earl stayed in the room, learning how to replace the dressing and how to identify the signs of proper healing. For three more days, he was by her side, until Anna was pronounced well enough to sit in the gardens and move about a little under her own power.

On the fifth day, the duchess came to call with Morgan. While Anna and Morgan chatted volubly in the back gardens, the duchess took her son aside and pointed out some difficult truths.

Anna was the acknowledged granddaughter of an earl, and the danger of infection was diminishing with each day.

Morgan missed her sister.

The earl’s offers of marriage had been rejected not once but several times.

The earl was running a bachelor establishment, not just for himself but for his two equally unmarried brothers.

Something was going to have to be done , the duchess concluded, her preferred something obvious to her son.

“Give me a couple more days,” the earl reasoned. “Anna is still uncomfortable, and even a short carriage ride will be difficult for her.”

“I can understand that,” the duchess said, “and she deserves some notice of a change of abode, but, Westhaven, what will she do now?”

“We’ve discussed it, we’ll discuss it some more. Plan on receiving her the day after tomorrow before tea time.”

“Morgan will be very pleased.” The duchess rose. “You are doing the right thing.” The earl nodded, knowing his mother spoke the truth. It was time to let Anna get on with her life and to stop hoarding up memories of her for his own pleasure.

Her convalescence had been pleasant. They’d spent hours together, mostly talking, sometimes reading. The earl worked on his correspondence while Anna slept or while she dozed in the shade of the gardens. They talked about the Rosecroft estate up in Yorkshire and the effect of her brother’s lack of heirs; they talked of Morelands and how pretty it was. He apprised her of the rebuilding of the stables at Willow Bend and brought her correspondence from the Marchioness of Heathgate and Gwen Allen, wishing her a speedy recovery.

When those good wishes made her cry, he lent her his handkerchief and his sturdy shoulder and brought her bouquets to cheer her up, and still, they did not talk about what mattered.

“Has my mother put you to rights?” the earl asked. He looked handsome to Anna, in shirtsleeves and waistcoat, his cuffs turned back as he wandered onto the back terrace where she was enjoying the sunshine on a chaise.

“She clucked and fussed and carried on appropriately,” Anna said. “I am to make a speedy and uneventful recovery by ducal decree.”

“Your grandmother will be here late next week, you know, if all goes well.” Westhaven sat on the edge of her chaise, regarding her closely. “You don’t look so pale, I’m thinking.”

“I don’t feel so pale,” she assured him. “I’ve not taken the time to just sit in the sun for more than two years, Westhaven. It’s bad for one’s ladylike complexion, but in the North, we crave the sun.”

“Will you be going back there?”

Anna fingered the cuff of her sleeve. “I do not want to. I want to remember Rosecroft as it was in my grandfather’s day, not in the neglect and disrepair my brother allowed.”

“You don’t ask about him,” Westhaven said, taking her hand.

“I assume he is malingering.”

“He is not doing well. It’s to be expected.”

“And Stull?”

“Made bond. But seems content to await trial at the Pig. I did bring trespass charges, just for the hell of it, and assault and conspiracy to assault in your name, as well.”

“Will any of it stick?”

The earl smiled, and the expression had a lot of big, white, sharp teeth to it. “It’s a curious thing about assault, but it’s both a tort and a crime.”

“A tort?” Anna frowned.

“A civil wrong for which the law provides a remedy.” The earl quoted. “Like, oh, slander, libel, and the like.”

“You are saying I can sue him personally, not just bring criminal charges?”

“You already have,” the earl informed her. “On the advice of the duke, of course.”

“Why would I do such a thing, when lawsuits take forever to resolve, and all I want is to be shut of that man immediately?”

“Civil matters are often settled with money judgments, Anna, and while you might think you have sufficient capital, Morgan might not be of the same mind, nor your grandmother.”

“I see.” Anna pursed her lips. “I trust your judgment, Westhaven. Proceed as you see fit.”

“I will,” he said and brought her hand up sandwiched between both of his. “There’s something else we need to discuss, Anna.”

“There is?” She watched him matching their hands, finger for finger.

“Your grandmother will be scandalized to find you dwelling with three bachelors, and my mother has reminded me Morgan is worried about you.”

“Morgan just visited, and my grandmother will hardly be scandalized to find I’m alive and well.”

“Anna…” He met her gaze. “I’ve made arrangements for you to remove to the mansion the day after tomorrow, where you will complete your convalescence under my mother’s care.”

“Westhaven…” He rose abruptly, and Anna came to her feet more slowly. “Gayle? Is this what you want?”

He looked up at her use of his name, a sad smile breaking through his frown.

“It is what must be, Anna.” He kept his hands in his pockets. He did not reach for her. “You are a well-bred young lady, and I am a bachelor of some repute. If it becomes known you are under my roof without chaperonage, then your future will be bleak.”

More bleak, Anna wanted to rail, than when Stull and Helmsley were hounding me across England?

“I will miss you,” Anna said, turning her back to him, the better to hide her tears. God above, she’d turned into a watering pot since getting involved with the earl.

“I beg your pardon?” He’d stepped closer, close enough she could catch his scent.

“I will miss you,” Anna said, whirling and walking straight into him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and clung, while his arms gently closed around her. “I will miss you and miss you and miss you.”

“Oh, love.” He stroked the back of her head. “You mustn’t cry over this. You’ll manage, and so will I, and it’s for the best.” She nodded but made no move to pull away, and he held her as closely as her wounded shoulder would allow.

In the library, Val looked up from rummaging for a penknife and frowned at Dev.

“Are you peeking?” Val asked, moving to stand beside his brother at the window.

“Enjoying my front-row seat,” Dev replied, scowling. “I do not understand our brother, Valentine. He loves that woman and would give his life for her. But he’s letting her go, and she’s letting him let her go.”

“Could be a flanking maneuver.” Val watched as Anna cried her heart out on Westhaven’s shoulder. The couple was in profile, though, so when Westhaven bent his head to press his lips to her temple, the expression on his face was visible, as well.

“Come away.” Val tugged at Dev’s sleeve, and Dev left the window. “We should not have seen that.”

“But we did see it,” Dev said. “Now what are we going to do about it?”

“We will not meddle,” Val said. “We are not the duke, Devlin. I have every confidence Westhaven will let Anna catch her breath and then approach her properly.”

“Why wait?” Dev pressed. “They love each other now. And I have my suspicions as to why Anna cries so easily these days. I am years your senior, and I can recall the duchess’s last few confinements.”