The Heir do-1

by Grace Burrowes

So… He’d solve her problems, provide her sanctuary, and let her go, if that was what she wanted.

  But he’d resent like hell that honor—honor and love—required it of him.

  “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 fiancées 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.”

  My poor Anna.

  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 te
stify 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?”

  “He most assuredly is,” Hazlit replied, coming to stand where he, too, could look out at the back terrace.

  “So I need to prove Helmsley guilty of misfeasance,” the earl said, “and foil the baron’s attempts at kidnapping, and then Anna should be safe but penniless.”

  “Not penniless. There is a trust fund that simply cannot be raided, not by God Almighty or the archangel Gabriel, as it is set aside for Anna’s exclusive use. Her grandmother has seen to it the money was wisely invested.”

  “That is some good news.” The earl turned finally, as Dev was escorting Anna back into the house. “Do you know how much she has left?” Hazlit named another figure, one that would keep even a genteel lady comfortably for a very long time.

  The earl turned, watching as Hazlit gathered up his effects. “If nothing else, I appreciate my family more, my siblings and my parents, for this glimpse into Anna’s circumstances.”

  “You are a fortunate man,” Hazlit said. “In your family, in any case. I’m off to loiter away the afternoon at the Pig. I’ll report when something warrants your attention.”

  “I will await your communication,” the earl said, seeing his guest to the door. “But patience is not my greatest strength.”

  The earl had no sooner returned to the library than Dev appeared, Anna in tow.

  “So who was that?” Dev asked.

  “Who was who?”

  “That handsome devil who eyed us out the window, the one who stood right beside you,” Dev shot back.

  “Benjamin Hazlit. Our private investigator.” The earl turned his gaze to Anna. “He thinks you should marry me.”

  “Let him marry you. I think I should join a convent.”

  “Now that,” Dev said, “would be an inexcusable waste.”

  “I quite agree.” The earl smiled thinly. “Hazlit says we wait now and expect either the baron to try to abduct you again or your brother to bring kidnapping charges.”

  Anna sat down in a heap. “As a man cannot kidnap his wife, we have another brilliant reason to marry me to you.”

  “Sound reasoning,” the earl said. “I gather you are not impressed.”

  “I am not impressed.” Anna rose abruptly. “And what do you mean, Westhaven, by summoning a dressmaker here?”

  “I meant you to have some dresses,” the earl said. “Dresses that are not gray or brown or brownish gray or grayish brown. I meant for you to enjoy, at least, the fashions available to you here in London and to spend some time in a pursuit common to ladies of good breeding. I meant to offer you diversion. What did you think I meant?”

  “Oh.” Anna sat back down.

  “I believe I will check on my horses and maybe take one out for a hack,” Dev said and headed for the door.

  “In this heat?” the earl asked, incredulous. Dev was nothing if not solicitous of his horses.

  “A very short hack,” Dev conceded over his shoulder, leaving Anna and the earl alone in the library.

  Why are you ignoring me? Anna silently wailed. But she knew why: Westhaven was treating her as a guest, and not as a guest with whom he was in love.

  In all her dealings with him, Anna realized, she had worried for him. Worried he would suffer disappointment in her, worried his consequence would suffer for associating with her, worried she wasn’t at all what he needed in a duchess. In hindsight, she saw she should have saved a little worry for herself—worry that her heart would break and she would be left to pick up the pieces without any clue as to how to go about it.

  Westhaven was frowning at her. “Anna, are you perhaps in need of a nap?”

  “Like a cranky child? Yes, I suppose I am. Are you?”

  He smiled at that, a slow, wicked, tempting grin that heartened Anna immeasurably.

  I missed you last night, but she didn’t say it. Couldn’t say it, with his frown replacing that grin.

  “Did you know,” the earl said, “you’re a wealthy woman?”

  “I am what?” Anna shot back to her feet. “Your jest is in poor taste, Westhaven.”

  “You are tired.” The earl shifted to sit in his rocker. “Sit down, Anna, and let us discuss your situation.”

  “My situation?” Anna sat as bid, not liking the serious light in his eye.

  “You are wealthy,” the earl repeated. He described her trust fund and her grandmother’s stewardship of it. “You can do any damned thing you please, Anna James, and in terms of your finances, you needn’t marry anybody.”

  “But why wasn’t I allowed to use my own money?” Anna wailed. “For two years, I’ve not had more than pin money to spare, and you tell me there are thousands of pounds with my name on them?”

  “There are, just waiting for you to claim them.”

  “Why wouldn’t my grandmother have told me of this?”

  “She might not have known at the time of your departure exactly what funds were available for what purpose,” the earl suggested gently. “She was unwell when you came south, and solicitors can be notoriously closemouthed. Or she might not have wanted to risk Helmsley getting wind if she tried to communicate with you. You must ask her.”

  “I knew we had dowries,” Anna said, shaking her head. “Of course my brother would not tell me I had my own money. Damn him.”

  “Yes,” Westhaven agreed, pulling her to her feet. “Damn him to the coldest circle of hell, and Baron Lardbucket with him. You still look like you need a nap.”

  “I do need a nap,” Anna sighed and looked down at his hand linked with hers. There was something she needed much more than a nap, but the earl was apparently not of like mind. Well, damn him, too.

  “I’ll leave you, then,” Anna said, chin up, tears threatening.

  “You will see me at dinner,” the earl warned her. “And Dev and Val, as well.”

  She nodded, and he let her go.

  Now what in blazes, the earl wondered, could make a sane woman cry upon learning she was financially very well off indeed?

  For his part, the knowledge was more than justification for tears. When Anna thought herself penniless and facing lawsuits, she hadn’t accepted his offer of marriage. How much more hopeless would his situation be when she had the coin to manage without him entirely?

  Anna presented herself freshly scrubbed for dinner, but she’d slept most of the afternoon away first. She had not joined all three brothers for a meal previously and found them to be formidably charming, the earl less overtly so than Val and Dev.

  “So what will you do with your wealth?” Dev asked. “The only suitable answer is: Buy a horse.”

  “She could buy your stud farm,” Val remarked, “and then some.”

  “I will look after my grandmother and my sister,” Anna said. “Nothing else much matters, but I would like to live somewhere we can grow some flowers.”

  “Will you move back north?” Val asked, his smile faltering.

  “I don’t know. All of my grandmother’s friends are there; my best memories are there.”

  “But some difficult memories, too,” the earl suggested, topping up her wine glass.

  “Some very difficult memories. I’ve always thought it made more sense to grow flowers in a more hospitable climate, but the need for them is perhaps greater in the North.”

  “Will you grow them commercially?” Dev asked.

  “I simply don’t know,” Anna said, her gaze meeting the earl’s. “Until things are resolved, and until I have a chance to sort matters through with Grandmama and Morgan, there is little point in speculating. Shall I leave you gentleman to your port and cigars?”

  “I never learned the habit of smoking,” the earl said, his brothers
concurring. “Would you perhaps rather join us in a nightcap, Anna?”

  “Thank you, no.” Anna stood, bringing all three men to their feet. “While your company is lovely, my eyes are heavy.”

  “I’ll light you up,” the earl offered, crooking his arm at her. Anna accepted it, taking guilty pleasure in even that small touch. When they were safely out of earshot, the earl paused and frowned at her. “You aren’t coming down with something, are you?”

  “I am just tired.”

  “You have every right to be.” He patted her hand, and Anna wanted to scream. She held her tongue though, until they’d gained her bedroom.

  “Is this how it’s to be, Westhaven?” She crossed her arms and regarded him as he lit her candles.

  “I beg your pardon?” He went on, carefully lighting a candelabra on her mantle.

  “I am suddenly a sister to you?” Anna began to pace. “Or a stranger? A houseguest to whom you are merely polite?”

  “You are not a sister to me.” The earl turned to face her, the planes of his face harsh in the muted light. “But you are under my protection, Anna, as a guest. You are also a woman who has repeatedly told me my honorable intentions are not welcome. I will not offer you dishonorable intentions.”

  “Why not?” she shot back, wishing her dignity was equal to the task of keeping her mouth shut. “You certainly were willing to before.”

  “I was courting you,” he said, “and there were lapses, I admit. But our circumstances are not the same now.”

  “Because my grandfather was an earl?”

  “It makes a difference, Anna.” Westhaven eyed her levelly. “Or it should. More to the point, you are likely to be the victim of another attempted kidnapping in the near future, and your brother is guilty of misfeasance, at the very least.”

  “You can’t prove that,” Anna said. But more than fatigue, what she felt was the weight of the earl’s withdrawal.

  He walked over to her, hesitated then reached up to brush a lock of hair back behind her ear. “You are tired, your life is in turmoil, and while I could importune you now, it would hardly be gentlemanly. I have trespassed against you badly enough as it is and would not compound my errors now.”