Page 68 of The Heir

“There is. I want it done before fall, when I’m likely to be dragooned into the shires by my dear papa for some hunting.”

“If you don’t want to go hunting, you’d best arrange something with your brothers, so when Papa issues his summons, you are otherwise occupied.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“And have you gotten right on finding us a butler? Stenson is more in need of stern guidance than ever.”

The earl burst out laughing at that image and shook his head as he rose.

“Send me some candidates,” he said. “Their most important qualification must be their ability to withstand the duke’s inveigling. I should be on hand Monday and Wednesday next week, though I have appointments back-to-back on Tuesday. I’ll expect you to accompany me to Willow Bend on Thursday.”

“Me?” Anna rose, as well, memories assaulting her: The earl drinking champagne from the bottle on the library floor, his hand slipping over her bare buttocks in the dark of night, the single rose he’d brought her… “I don’t believe that’s wise.”

“Of course it’s wise,” the earl said. “How else am I to know which table goes in what room, and which drapes to hang where?”

“I can write it out,” Anna suggested, “or go when you’re not there.”

“I am the owner, Anna.” He peered down at her in consternation. “What if I take issue with your decisions? Are we to trundle out there on alternate days until all our quibbling is resolved?”

She admitted the silliness of that but not out loud.

“You aren’t afraid, are you?” He cocked his head, frowning. “It isn’t likely we’ll be stuck in a second monsoon, but we can take the coach if you’d feel better about it.”

“Let’s see what the weather portends.” Anna did want to see the place put to rights. “Who will be doing all of the stepping and fetching?”

“The property is now swarming with locals ready to do the earl’s bidding for a bit of the earl’s coin. Much of the work should be done before we arrive, but I want your eye on the finished product.”

“Very well, then. Thursday.”

“And I’ve been meaning to ask you why you always fall silent when St. Just is in the room.” He sidled a little closer and waited for her reply.

“The colonel doesn’t particularly care for me. It’s merely his tacitly stated and perfectly legitimate opinion.”

“He likes you.” The earl dipped his head and kissed her cheek. “It might be he doesn’t trust you. More likely, he simply envies me, because I saw you first.”

Anna’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment, but the earl was gone in an instant, no doubt drawn into the breakfast parlor by the scent of bacon, scones, omelets, and—more especially—by the sound of his brothers’ laughter.

Eleven

“Good morning, Your Grace.”

Anna swept the deep, deferential curtsy required in the presence of a lady of high rank. “Would you like to wait in the formal parlor, the breakfast parlor, the family parlor, or the library?”

“It’s such a pleasant morning,” the duchess said. “Why not in the gardens?” Anna found herself returning her smile, as the gardens were the better choice. After several days of increasingly miserable weather, the humidity had dropped in the night, making the morning air delightful.

“Can I bring you some iced lemonade?” Anna asked when she’d seen the earl’s mother ensconced on a shady bench. “The earl and his brothers usually return from their morning ride about this time and go directly in to breakfast.”

“His brothers?” The duchess paused in the arrangements of her skirts and blinked once. “Can you spare a few minutes to sit with me, Mrs. Seaton?”

“Of course.” Anna assumed a seat on the same bench as the duchess. There was a subtle, pleasant scent to the woman, a gracious but simple hint of rose with a note of spice. It didn’t fit with what Anna thought a duchess should smell like; it was much less formal, prettier, more sweet and loving.

“Westhaven’s brothers join him regularly for breakfast? I was aware Lord Valentine was a guest here, but you include St. Just in this breakfast club?”

“I do,” Anna said, feeling cornered. Would the earl want his mother knowing St. Just lived here?

“Is St. Just another guest in the earl’s home?” the duchess asked, frowning slightly at the roses. She was a pretty woman, even when she frowned: willowy, hair going from golden to flax, and green eyes slightly canted in a face graced with elegant bones.

“I would be more comfortable, Your Grace, did you put that question to your sons,” Anna said. A small, surprised silence followed her comment, and the duchess’s frown became a smile.