“My staff is taking good care of me. You will be pleased to know both Dev and Val are enjoying my hospitality, as well. They’ll be along shortly, but were arguing about a horse when I left the stables.”
“I heard no shouting,” the duchess remarked. “It cannot be a very serious argument.”
“Dev wants Val to take on some work with one of his horses. Val is demurring,” the earl explained. “Or letting Dev work for it. How are His Grace and my dear sisters?”
“The girls are glad to be at Morelands, with the heat being so oppressive. They might come back for Fairly’s ball, however.”
“About which you can regale us at breakfast,” Westhaven said. “You will join us. I won’t hear otherwise.”
“I would be delighted.” The duchess smiled at her son, a smile of such warmth and loving regard Anna had to look away. Westhaven’s expression mirrored his mother’s, and Anna knew the earl had no greater ally than Her Grace, at least in all matters that did not pit him against the duke.
“My lord, Your Grace.” Anna slipped her arm from the earl’s. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll notify the kitchen we have a guest.”
“Please don’t put them to any bother, Mrs. Seaton,” the duchess said. “The company of my sons is treat enough on any day.” The earl offered Anna a slight bow, and Anna knew the gesture wasn’t lost on his mother.
“She dotes on you,” the duchess commented when Anna had retreated.
“She dotes on all three of us. We have all the comforts a conscientious housekeeper can imagine for us, and then some. Do you know, she keeps marzipan in the pantry for me, chocolates for Val, and candied violets for Dev? We have flowers in every room, the linens are all scented with lavender or rosemary, the house stays cool even in this heat, and I cannot comprehend how she accomplishes this.”
Her Grace paused on the back steps. “She did all this before you’d brought your brothers to stay with you, didn’t she?”
“She did. I just notice it more now.”
“Grief can turn us inward,” the duchess said quietly. “I was concerned for you, Westhaven. I know His Grace left the finances in a muddle, but it seems as if cleaning up after your father was all you made time for this spring.”
“The finances are still not untangled, Your Grace. We were not faring very well when I was given the reins.”
“Are we in difficulties?” the duchess asked carefully.
“No, but we nearly would have been. In some ways, Victor’s mourning period saved us some very timely entertaining expenses. A house party at Morelands is nothing compared to one of your balls, Mother.”
“You call me Mother when you scold me, Westhaven, but this ball will be underwritten by Fairly and his in-laws, so you needn’t frown at me.”
“My apologies.” They turned at the sound of his brothers’ voices coming up the garden paths.
“What ho!” Dev called, grinning. “What light through yonder rose bush shines? Good morning, Your Grace.” He bowed low over her hand then stepped back as Val sidled in to kiss the duchess’s cheek.
“Mother.” Val smiled down at her. “You will join us for breakfast so these two mind their manners around their baby brother?”
“I will join you for breakfast to feast my eyes on the greatest display of young male pulchritude to be had in all of London.”
“She flatters,” Westhaven said, “before interrogating, no doubt.”
The duchess floated into the house, one hand tucked by Westhaven’s side, the other wrapped on Val’s arm. Dev watched them go, smiling at the tableau before turning back to the rose bushes along the far wall, where Anna was clipping a bouquet.
He propped a booted foot against the low stone wall bordering the bed. “How badly did she interrogate you?”
“Good morning, Colonel St. Just.” Anna bobbed a curtsy and put her shears into the wicker basket sitting on the wall. “The duchess was all that was gracious.” Unlike present company. “If you’ll excuse me?”
“I will not,” St. Just replied. He emphasized his response by putting a hand on Anna’s arm. She met his eyes, looked pointedly down at his hand, and back up at his face, arching a brow in question.
“You need not like me,” Anna said, “but you will respect me.”
“Or what, Anna Seaton?” He leaned in, giving Anna a hint of his aftershave, a minty scent with a blend of meadow flowers. Anna went still, knowing if she made a fuss, the earl would appear, likely with his mother at his side.
“You are not a bully, Colonel, whatever else may trouble you.”
He stepped back, frowning.
“You aggravate me, Mrs. Seaton,” he said at length. “I want to assure myself you are a scheming, selfish, vapid little tramp with airs above your station, but the assurance just won’t ring true.”
Anna flashed him a look of consternation. “Why on earth would you attempt to make such a nasty prejudgment? You yourself have no doubt been subject to just the same sort of close mindedness.”
“Now, see?” St. Just almost smiled. “That’s what I mean. You don’t bother to deny the labels, you just hand them back to me in a neat, tidy little package of subtle castigation. Perhaps I’m only wishing you were venal, so I might poach on my brother’s preserves with moral impunity.”
“You would not poach on your brother’s preserves,” Anna said, beginning to see how much of the man was a particularly well-aimed type of bluster. “You are not as wicked as you want the world to think, sir.”
“Happens”—he did smile—“I am not, but it also happens you are not just the simple, devoted housekeeper you would have the world think you are, either.”
“My past is my own business. Now have you business with me, Colonel, or are you being gratuitously unpleasant?”
“Business,” he said shortly. “You have rightly surmised I brood and paw and snort at times for show, Mrs. Seaton. It keeps His Grace from getting ideas, for one thing. But make no mistake on this point: I will defend my brother’s interests without exception or scruple. If I find you are playing him false in any sense or trifling with him, I will become your worst enemy.”
Anna smiled at him thinly. “Do you think he’d appreciate these threats you make to his housekeeper?”
“He might understand them,” St. Just said. “For the other message I have to convey to you is that to the extent you matter to my brother, you matter to me. If he decides he values you in his life, then I will also defend you without exception or scruple.”
“What is it you are saying?”
“You are a woman with troubles, Anna Seaton. You have no past anyone in this household knows of, you have no people you’ll admit to, you have the airs and graces of a well-born lady, but you labor for your bread instead. I’ve seen you conferring with Morgan, and I know you have something to hide.”
Anna raised her chin and speared him with a look. “Everybody has something to hide.”
“You have a choice, Anna,” St. Just said, her given name falling from his lips with surprising gentleness. “You either trust the earl to resolve your troubles, or you leave him in peace. He’s too good a man to be exploited by somebody under his own roof. He’s had that at the hands of his own father, and I won’t stand for it from you.”
Anna hefted her basket and flashed St. Just a cold smile. “Like the duke, you’ll wade in, bully and intimidate, and jump to conclusions regarding Westhaven’s life, telling yourself all the while you do it because you love him, when in fact, you haven’t the first notion how to really go about caring for the man. Very impressive—if one wants proof of your patrimony.”
She bobbed him a curtsy with fine irony and walked off, her skirts twitching with her irritation.
As he pasted the requisite smile on his face and went in to breakfast, St. Just reflected he hadn’t been wrong: Anna Seaton had secrets; she’d all but acknowledged it.
But his approach had been wrong. A woman who attached Westhaven’s interest was going to have backbone to spar
e. He should not have threatened; he should not have, to use her word, bullied. Well, that could be remedied just as soon as he got through breakfast with Her Grace.
“You are quiet,” the earl remarked as they tooled along toward Willow Bend.
“If I am quiet enough, I can fool myself into thinking I am still abed, dreaming on my nice cool sheets.” Dreaming of him, most nights.
“Am I working you too hard?” the earl asked, glancing over.
“You are not. The heat can disturb one’s rest.”
“Are my brothers behaving? Dev is tidy, but Val can be a slob.”
“Lord Val’s only crime is that he commandeers Morgan for a couple of hours each afternoon and lets her join him in the music room while he works on his repertoire.”
“You can trust Val to be a gentleman with her.”
“And can I trust you to be a gentleman?”
“You can trust me,” the earl replied, “to stop when you tell me to, to never intentionally hurt you, to listen before I judge, and to tell you the truth as far as I know it. Will that do?” It was all he was going to give her, but Anna reflected on how much more he offered than other men in her life were willing to.
“It will do.” It would have to.
He turned the conversation to the practicalities of the situation at Willow Bend. There was a temporary crew of day laborers on hand from the local village, and they’d been busily moving furniture, hanging drapes, unpacking the crates of linens and flatware. The scene was very different from their previous visit to the place, with wagons, people, and noise everywhere.
A young boy emerged from the stables to take Pericles, and the earl escorted Anna to the front door.
“I want you to see it the way my sister might,” he said, “not as the servants and tradesmen do. So…” He opened the front door, and led her through. “Welcome to Willow Bend, Mrs. Seaton.”
She appreciated the public nature of the greeting and appreciated even more that there was a public on hand to witness it. Carpenters, glaziers, laborers, and apprentices were bustling to and fro; hammers banged, the occasional yell sounded above stairs, and boys were scurrying everywhere with tools and supplies.
“Yer lordship!” A stocky man of medium height made his way to their side.
“Mr. Albertson, our pleasure. Mrs. Seaton, my foreman here, Allen Albertson. Mr. Albertson, Mrs. Seaton is the lady in charge of putting the finishing touches on all your work.”
“Ma’am.” Albertson smiled and tugged his forelock. “You been finishing the daylights out of this place, if I do say so. Where shall we start, milord?”
“Ma’am?” The earl turned to her, his deference bringing an inconvenient blush to her cheeks.
“The kitchen,” Anna said. “It’s the first room you’ll want functional and a very important room to people both upstairs and below.”
“To the kitchen, Mr. Albertson.” Westhaven waved a hand and offered Anna his arm.
Room by room, floor by floor, they toured the house. Shelves that had been bare now held neat rows of cups and glasses, or stacks of dishes, toweling, table linen, and candles. Anna asked that the spice rack be moved closer to the work table and suggested a bench be added along the inside kitchen wall. She had a bench put into the back hallway, as well, and a pegged board nailed to the wall for jackets, capes, and coats.
“You need a boot scrape, too,” she pointed out, “since this is the entrance closest to the stables and gardens.”
“You will make a note, Mr. Albertson?” the earl prompted.
“Aye.” Albertson nodded, rolling his eyes good-naturedly to show what he thought of feminine notions.
They went on through the house as the morning got under way, finding a set of drapes needing to be switched, some tables that had ended up in the wrong parlors, and a pair of carpets that should have gone in opposite bedrooms. In the music room, she had the harp covered and the piano’s lid closed.
“You may leave us now, Mr. Albertson,” Westhaven said as they approached the last bedroom. “I take it the men will soon break for their nooning?”
“They will. It be getting too hot to do the heavy work, but we’ll be back when it cools. Ma’am.” He bowed and took his leave, bellowing for the water dipper before he’d gained the stairs.
“He may lack a certain subtlety,” the earl said, “but he’s honest, and he’s getting the job done.”
“And a lovely job it is,” Anna said. “The place is looking wonderful.”
“I wanted to save this for last,” the earl said, opening the door to the final bedroom. It was the room where they’d passed the night, and Anna felt her heart stutter as the earl ushered her over the threshold.
“The Earl of Westhaven Memorial Chicken Pox Ward,” Anna quipped, trying desperately for a light tone.
“Among other things. How do you like it?”
She’d intended this to be a masculine room, decorating it in subdued greens with blue accents and choosing more substantial incidental furniture with fewer frills and fripperies. The canopy on the bed had been replaced with dark green velvet, the bed spread dyed to match. The drapes were a lighter version of the same shade, and all of it complemented the dark wood of the bed frame and the colorful Persian carpets scattered on the hardwood floors.
“You are quiet,” Westhaven said. “I hoped you would be pleased with the differences.”
“I’m pleased.” Anna smiled at him. “This is not a room for the lady of the house.”
“It is not, of course,” the earl agreed. “We saw those rooms earlier. I wanted this to be a room worthy of the memories I hold of it.”
“Westhaven…” Anna sighed. “You were being so good.”
“I was, and I’m glad you appreciate the effort, but I’ve left you in peace for days now, Anna, and you didn’t come here without expecting me to make some advances.”
“I came here,” Anna said, sitting down in an upholstered rocker, “to comply with your request to see the house set to rights. I’ve done that, so we can return to Town now.”
“And make Pericles travel in the worst heat of the day.”
She glared at him and rose. “Do not put the welfare of your horse above my reputation, yet again. Dear Pericles can walk us back to Town for all I care, but our work here is finished.”
“Our work, perhaps.” The earl regarded her levelly. “Not our dealings. Come.” He took her hand and led her to window seat. She didn’t resist when he pulled her down beside him and kept her hand trapped in his.
“Talk to me, Anna,” he said, wrapping his second hand around the back of hers. “You’ve become inscrutable, and I have enough sisters to know this is not a good thing.”
“You would leave me no privacy.” But when the earl stretched out his legs, his thigh casually resting against hers, she did not move away.
“You have more privacy than anyone else in my household,” the earl chided. “You answer only to me, have the run of the property, and have the only private sitting room on four floors besides my own. And”—he kissed her knuckles—“you are stalling.”
She laid her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes, and felt him nuzzling at her temple.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, “tell me what’s troubling you. Dev says you’ve shadows in your eyes, and I have to agree.”
“Him.” Anna’s head came off his shoulder.
“Has he offended? Pinched Nanny Fran one too many times? Offended Cook?”
“He has offended me,” Anna said on a sigh. “Or he would, if I could stay mad at him, but he’s just protective of you.”
“The duke used that same excuse to nearly unravel my niece’s entire family. He was protecting me when he bribed Elise, and he was protecting someone every time he crossed the lines his duchess would not approve of.”
“I pointed out the parallel to St. Just when he warned me not to trifle with you.”
“And here I’ve been pleasuring myself nigh cross-eyed because you won’t trifle wi
th me,” the earl said. Anna smiled at his rejoinder despite herself. When she glanced over, he obligingly crossed his eyes.
“What else did St. Just have to say?” the earl prompted when the moment of levity had passed.
“If you value me, he will, as well. I don’t know what that meant, Westhaven. He is a difficult man to read.”
“He was welcoming you to the family, and all without a word to me.”
“If that is his welcome, one shudders to consider his threats.”
“He says you are a lady with secrets. I could not gainsay him.”
“I was a lady once,” Anna said, not meeting his eyes. “I am in service now.”
“And you choose to remain in service rather than accept my suit. It is very lowering to think my kisses, my wealth, I myself, am less appealing to you than bouquets needing water or silver in need of polish.”
“You mustn’t think that!” Anna lifted her eyes to his, horrified at the honest self-doubt she’d heard in his voice. “You must believe me when I say the failing is mine; any woman would be pleased to have your attentions.”
“Any woman?” The earl’s smile was self-deprecating. “Guinevere Allen was none too flattered.”
“She was enamored of her viscount, and he of her,” Anna argued, coming to her feet. “I cannot allow you to think like this. You can have your pick of the last three years’ batch of debutantes, and you know it.”
“Oh, lucky me.” The earl rose, as well. “I can mince about with some child on my arm, one who fears her wedding night and dreads the thought of my attentions. And all the while, she will be hamstrung by my father’s machinations, to say nothing of the parents who staked her out in the ballroom like some sacrificial lamb. No man worth his salt wants a wife on those terms. What?” He returned to her side. “I cannot tell if you are horrified, stupefied, or maybe, just perhaps, impressed.”
“You understand,” Anna said, peering up at him. “You understand what it’s like to be that sacrificial lamb.”
“I do.” He nodded. “I also understand, Anna Seaton, if I cannot have more of you, this instant, I will not answer for the consequences.” He brushed his lips over hers. “The workmen are gone, and they won’t be back until the heat of the day has cooled. We have this time, Anna, and I would like to use it.”
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