Page 103 of The Heir

“You don’t trust her?” Dev asked, censorship in his tone.

“She gave her word not to run, but I am not convinced Stull was the only threat to her. Her own brother got her involved in this scheme with Stull, and he’s the one who benefits should Stull get his hands on Anna. Where is Helmsley, and what is his part in this?”

“Good question,” Dev allowed. “Go call on Their Graces, then, and leave the ladies in our capable hands.”

Val nodded. “His Grace will be flattered into a full recovery to think you’d entrust a damsel in distress to his household.”

The earl nodded, knowing it was a good point. Still, he was sending Morgan to the duke and duchess because their home was safe, a near fortress, with servants who knew better than to allow strangers near the property or the family members. And it was nearby, which made getting Morgan there simple. Then, too, Anna saw the wisdom of it, making it one less issue he had to argue and bully her through.

He found Anna in her sitting room, sipping tea, the evil valise nowhere in sight.

“I’m off to Moreland House,” the earl informed her, “to ask Their Graces to provide Morgan sanctuary. I will ask on your behalf, as well, if it’s what you want.”

“Do you want me to go with her?” Anna asked, her gaze searching his.

“I do not,” he said. “It’s one thing to ask my father and mother to keep Morgan safe, when Stull isn’t even sure she’s in London. It’s another to ask them to keep you safe, when I am on hand to do so and have already engaged the enemy, so to speak.”

“Stull isn’t your enemy,” Anna said, dropping her gaze. “If it hadn’t been him, my brother would have found somebody else.”

“I am not so convinced of that, Anna.” The earl lowered himself into a rocking chair. “The society in York is provincial compared to what we have here in London. My guess is that there were likely few willing to collude with your brother in defrauding your grandfather’s estate, shackling you and Morgan to men you found repugnant and impoverishing your sickly grandmother into the bargain.”

“That is blunt speech,” she said at length.

“I am angry, Anna.” The earl rose again. “I fear diplomacy is beyond me.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“Oh, I want to be,” he assured her, his gaze raking her up and down. “I want to be furious, to turn you over my knee and paddle you until my hand hurts, to shake you and rant and treat the household to a tantrum worthy of His Grace.”

“I am sorry.” Anna’s gaze dropped to the carpet.

“I am not angry with you,” the earl said gravely, “but your brother and his crony will have much to answer for.”

“You are disappointed in me.”

“I amconcernedfor you,” the earl said tiredly. “So concerned I am willing to seek the aid of His Grace, and to pull every string and call in every favor the old man can spare me. Just one thing, Anna?”

She met his gaze, looking as though she was prepared to hear the worst: Pack your things, get out of my sight, give me back those glowing characters.

“Be here when I get back,” the earl said with deadly calm. “And expect to have a long talk with me when this is sorted out.”

She nodded.

He waited to see if she had anything else to add, any arguments, conditions, or demurrals, but for once, his Anna apparently had the sense not to fight him. He turned on his heel and left before she could second guess herself.

Sixteen

“I have come to seek assistance,” Westhaven said, meeting his father’s gaze squarely. The duke was enjoying his early afternoon tea on the back terrace of the mansion, and looking to his son like a man in a great good health.

“Seems to be the season for it,” the duke groused. “Your dear mother will hardly let me chew my meat without assistance. You’d best have a seat, man, lest she catch me craning my neck to see you.”

“She means well,” the earl said, his father’s response bringing a slight smile to his lips.

The duke rolled his eyes. “And how many times, Westhaven, has she attempted to placate your irritation with me, using that same phrase? Tea?”

“More than a few,” the earl allowed. “She doesn’t want to lose you, though, and so you must be patient with her. And yes, a spot of tea wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Patient!” the duke said with a snort. He poured his son a cup and added a helping of sugar. “That woman knows just how far she can push me, with her Percy this and dear heart that. But you didn’t come here to listen to me resent your mother’s best intentions. What sort of assistance do you need?”