The Heir

“I see you have a friend.” A

“A guardian bear, Rose claims.” The earl again brought the bear up to face him and frowned thoughtfully. “He seems a solid sort, if a bit reserved.”

“Rather like the viscount.”

“Douglas?” The earl smiled at her characterization. “Don’t underestimate him, as my father and I did. He appears to be a proper little Puritan, tending his acres and adoring his wife, but Heathgate, Greymoor, and Fairly all listen when Douglas deigns to address a topic.”

“He does seem to adore his viscountess, but I believe he is just a protective sort of man in general.”

“Protective?” The earl considered the word, but his brain was becoming as creaky as the rest of him. “Perhaps. He certainly dotes on Rose and would cheerfully strangle any who sought to do her harm.”

“He has a problem with his memory, though,” A

“They are? That’s news to me, as both of them exhibit frightening mental acuity.”

A

Westhaven’s eyebrows shot up then crashed down.

“Gwen told you this?” he asked, surprise warring with gratitude.

“No,” A

“Perhaps she married the better man after all.”

Seven

“MY, MY, MY.” DOUGLAS FROWNED AS HE CLOSED THE door to the sick room. “Is this the state Mrs. Seaton left you in, susceptible to any draft and breeze?”

“It is not.” The earl sighed, trying to recall where he’d last put the chamber pot. “I was hot, and that nightshirt of yours itches like the very devil.”

“Behind the screen,” the viscount suggested. “A close stool and a chamber pot. I’ll leave if you like, or assist.”

“Neither.” Westhaven made his way across the room, Douglas watching impassively.

“I thought you’d gained some flesh,” Douglas remarked. “A closer inspection suggests I was right. You were getting too thin.”

“I was.” The earl yawned behind the privacy screen. “But, A

“And your housekeeper inspired her?”

“A

“Up you go.” Douglas took him unceremoniously by one spotted arm and boosted him up the step to the bed. “Hold still.” He dropped the nightshirt over the earl and peered at him. “You are ill,” Douglas concluded on a sigh. “Best get back in bed, and behave yourself. Tonight will likely be the worst, and tomorrow night, but after that, you should be on the mend.”

“Douglas?” Westhaven sat on the edge of the bed, and to his surprise, Amery sat beside him.

“Hmm?”

“When you were courting Gwen,” Westhaven said, finding the bear among his pillows, “did you…?”

“Did I what?” Douglas prompted. “Mrs. Seaton will be returning with your next infusion, and hopefully some food, so you’d best spit it out, as she’s guarding you rather carefully.”

“She is?”

“She left your side to eat, but otherwise, unless I’m here, she is,” Douglas replied. “You had a question?”

“When you were courting Gwen,” the earl tried again. “Was there an almost constant…? I mean, did you find your thoughts turning always to…?”

“I swived her every chance I got,” Douglas interjected. “And if I couldn’t be inside her, I held her or held her hand or just looked at her like a starving man looks at a banquet he can’t eat. The situation was particularly disturbing, because I had come to a point in my life where any kind of passion was beyond me, including the carnal.”

“Why do you tell me this? It ca

“I am meddling,” Douglas confessed, his blue eyes warming with humor. “I have my wife’s permission, so it isn’t quite as difficult as if I were acting without her knowledge.”

“Meddling?”

“Encouraging your situation with Mrs. Seaton,” Douglas clarified. “I believe you would suit.”

“As do I. She is not of like mind.”

“Then you must change her mind. If that means a very slow recovery, then so be it. You are the Moreland heir, after all, and no chances must be taken with your health.”

The earl smiled crookedly. “A slow recovery… by God. I never stood a chance against you, did I?”

“One hoped not.” Douglas rose. “Though you assuredly scared the hell out of me and put rather a wrench in my plans with Guinevere. You were never my enemy, nor hers. Rather, the duke was the common nuisance.”

Douglas left the bedroom to admit A

“A

“Here.” She rose from the chair and sat on the bed at his hip.

“Feel like hell.”

“Your fever is high,” A

He nodded, and A

“Fairly had a groom deliver this. It’s witch hazel and some herbal infusions to help your skin heal.” The cool sponge touched his skin, and Westhaven sighed. She brought it again and again down the length of his back, his arms, his shoulders, and sides, then shifted the blanket to bathe his legs and feet. She started the whole process over again and again, until he was nearly resting comfortably, his fever abating. By morning, Westhaven could honestly say he was at least no worse.

There was a discreet tap on the door, and then the viscount was with them, looking refreshed and ready for his day.

“Good morning, Mrs. Seaton, or might I call you A

He shooed off A

“How is it,” Douglas asked his patient, “your fever responds only to her touch, hmm?”

“Shut up,” the earl replied tiredly. “She put something in the water, if you must know. I think it helps.”

By the time Douglas had clean sheets on the bed and Westhaven extracted from his morning bath, the patient was once again growing drowsy. Douglas forced more willow bark tea down the hapless earl’s gullet, tucked him in, and left him dozing peacefully beside his borrowed guardian bear.

The next day was a mosaic of little activities and naps. Val sent out a note saying he’d visit shortly, Westhaven pe

The evening passed just as slowly, with A