The Heir

“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?