“I trust you slept well?” the earl inquired politely over breakfast.
“I did.” Anna lied with equal good manners. “And you?”
“I did not,” the earl said, patting his lips with his napkin. “Though riding this morning has put me more to rights. I regret you will not be able to leave the house today.”
“I won’t?” Anna blinked at him over her teacup. He was very much the earl this morning, no trace of humor or affection in his eyes or his voice.
“Stull has made bail,” Westhaven explained. “I do not put it past him to make another attempt to abduct you.”
“I see.” Anna put down her tea cup, her toast and jam threatening to make an untimely reappearance.
The earl laid a hand on her arm, and she closed her eyes, savoring the comfort of that simple touch. “You are safe here, and he can’t force you to do anything, in any case. You won’t go beyond the back gardens, though, will you?”
“I will not,” Anna said. “But what happens next? I can’t simply wait here in this house until he gives up. He won’t—not ever. It’s been two years, and he’s spent considerable coin tracking me down.”
“I’ve had him arrested on charges of arson,” the earl reminded her. “He is likely not permitted to leave London itself, or he will violate the terms of his bond, baron or no baron. You can have him arrested for assault, though if he does have a betrothal contract, that likely won’t fly very far.”
“He has one,” Anna rejoined. “I was trying to recall its particulars last night as I fell asleep, but it was more than two years ago that I signed it, and my brother did not want me to read the document itself.”
“I cannot wait to meet this brother of yours. My sisters and my mother know better than to sign anything— anything—without reading each word.”
“You are a good brother. And they are good sisters.”
The earl looked up from buttering his toast. “You would have been a good sister to Morgan by allowing Stull to marry her?”
“No”—Anna shook her head—“but I am hardly a good sister to Helmsley for having refused to marry the man myself.”
The earl put down his toast and knife. “You had two choices, as I see it, Anna: You could have married Stull, in which case he was essentially free to take his pleasure of you or Morgan, or to use Morgan to control you. In the alternative, you could have married Stull and left Morgan in your brother’s care, in which case he’d just be auctioning her off behind Stull’s back. Those options are unthinkable.”
He went back to buttering his toast, his voice cool and controlled. “You created a third option, and it was the best you could do under the circumstances.”
“It was,” Anna said, grateful for his summary. But then, why did he still appear so remote?
“Until you met me,” the earl went on. “You had a fourth option, then.”
“I could have broken my word to my grandmother.” Anna rose. “And taken a chance you would not laugh at me and return me to Stull’s loving embrace, errant, contractually bound fiancees not something your average earl is willing to champion at the drop of a hat.”
He remained sitting. “I deserve better than that.”
“Yes,” she said, near tears, “you most assuredly do, and if we marry…”
She whirled and left the room, her sentence unfinished and her host unable to extrapolate her meaning. If they married… what?
“I see we’re starting our day in a fine temper.” Dev sauntered in.
“Shut up.” The earl passed him the teapot. “And do not attempt any more advice so early in the day, Dev. I do not like to see Anna upset.”
“Neither do I.” St. Just poured himself a cup of tea and frowned at the earl. “I don’t like to see you upset either. What is the plan for the day?”
“I have to meet with Tolliver, of course, and I asked Hazlit to stop by, as well. I’ve sent for a dressmaker to see to Anna, and expect that will keep us out of each other’s way for the day. What of you?”
“I am going to visit with some old army friends,” Dev said, getting to work on a mountain of scrambled eggs. “I should be back by midday and will make it a point to join Anna for lunch.”
“My thanks.” The earl rose, feeling none too pleased with the day before him. “Tell her…”
Dev shook his head. “Tell her yourself.”
The morning was interminable, with no Anna tapping softly at the door with a little lemonade or marzipan for him, no water for his bouquets, no anything but work and more work. He sent Tolliver off well before luncheon but was pleased to find Benjamin Hazlit had chosen that hour to call.
“Join me for luncheon,” the earl suggested. “My kitchen is not fancy, particularly in this heat, but we know how to keep starvation at bay.”
“I will accept that generous offer,” Hazlit said. “My breakfast was ages ago and not very substantial.” The earl rang for luncheon on a tray, sending up a small prayer of thanks he’d have a valid excuse for not joining Anna and Dev on the back terrace. When lunch came, it showed that Anna was not behaving herself exclusively as a guest: There was a single daisy in a bud vase on each tray, and the marzipan was wrapped in linen, a little bouquet of violets serving as the bow.
“Your kitchen isn’t fancy,” Hazlit remarked, “but somebody dotes on their earl.”
“Or on their lunch trays,” the earl said. He quickly brought Hazlit up to date regarding Baron Stull’s allegations of a betrothal, and the need to secret Morgan with Their Graces.
“Good move,” Hazlit said. “Divide and conquer, so to speak. When I got your note, I did some poking around regarding Stull.”
“Oh?” The earl paused in the demolition of his chicken sandwich.
“He’s a bad actor,” Hazlit said. “Been making a nuisance of himself in the lower-class brothels, trying to procure young girls, and using thugs to spy on your house.”
Hazlit went on to advise the earl Stull had been identified as the purchaser of a large quantity of lamp oil, “right down to the grease stains on his cravat.” The tallish gentleman with him, however, had remained in the shadows. Hazlit further suggested there would be another attempt to kidnap Anna.
“Why won’t the baron just take his lumps and go home?”
Hazlit’s gaze turned thoughtful. “So far, the evidence for arson is all circumstantial. The charges won’t stick. He has a betrothal contract he thinks is valid, and he has Helmsley over a barrel, so to speak, financially. He wants Anna, and he wants her badly. You haven’t described him as a man who is bright enough to cut his losses and find some silly cow who will bear him children and indulge his peccadilloes.”
“And she would have to be a cow,” the earl muttered, grimacing. “I hate just sitting here, waiting for those idiots to make the next move.”
“And they hate just sitting there”—Hazlit reached for a piece of marzipan—“doing nothing. You should probably prepare yourself for some kind of legal maneuvering.”
“What kind of maneuvering?”
“Charges of kidnapping or alienation of affections, breach of promise against Anna, demands of marriage from Helmsley.”
“Demands that I marry her?” The earl scowled thunderously. “In God’s name why?”
“If Helmsley sees you are a fatter pigeon than Stull, he’ll rattle that sword.”
“Christ.” The earl got up and paced to the window. Anna and Dev were on the terrace, and she was smiling at something he’d said. Dev’s smile was flirtatious and a little wistful—charmingly so, damn the scoundrel.
“We can hope it’s a moot question,” Hazlit said, rising to his feet. “If Stull attempts to remove her from your property, then you bring the kidnapping charges, and that will be the end of it. Unless she’s married to the man, she can testify against him in any court in the land.”
“What was the extent of the old earl’s estate?” the earl asked, staring out the windows. Hazlit named a figure, a very large and impressive figure.
The earl continued to watch as Dev and Anna laughed their way through lunch. “If Helmsley has gambled that away, then he is guilty of misfeasance?”
