The Heir

“Morgan?” A

Morgan nodded. A

“I’ve had a letter from Grandmama,” A

Morgan’s expression, at first joyous to think they’d heard from their grandmother, then wary, knowing it could be bad news, finally became thunderous. She scowled mightily and shook her head.

“I don’t want to leave either,” A

Morgan glared at her and shook a fist.

“Fight,” she mouthed. “Tell the truth.”

“Fight with what?” A

“Not yet,” Morgan mouthed, still glaring daggers. “Not so soon again.”

“It’s been months,” A

“Go without me.”

“I will not go without you,” A

“Split up,” Morgan persisted. “They need only one of us.”

A

“I won’t let that one be you,” A

“Tell Lord Val,” Morgan suggested, less audibly. “Tell the earl.”

“Lord Val and the earl ca

“I noticed.” Morgan’s glare was temporarily leavened by a slight smile. “Handsome men.”

“Morgan Elizabeth James”—A

“Hate this,” Morgan said, laying her head on A

“I do, too.” A

Morgan just shook her head and stepped back, her expression resigned. This whole mad scheme had been undertaken more than two years ago, “just until we can think of something else.” Well, it was two years, three positions, and many miles later, and nothing else was being thought of. In those years when a gently bred young girl—even one who appeared unable to hear or speak—should be thinking of beaus and ball gowns, Morgan was sweeping grates, lugging buckets of coal, and changing bed linens.

A

Ten

“YOUR HOUSEKEEPER IS KEEPING SECRETS.”

Dev threw himself down on the library’s sofa, yanked off his boots, and stretched out to his considerable length with a sigh. “And she’s a damned pretty housekeeper to have served as your nurse.”

“Nurses must be ugly?” Westhaven tossed down his pen. Dev was a different sort of housemate than Val. Dev didn’t disappear into the music room for hours at a time, letting the entire household know where he was without being bothersome about it. Dev wandered at will, as apt to be in the library with a book or in the kitchen flirting with Cook and Na

“Nurses must be ugly.” Dev closed his eyes. “Mistresses must be pretty. Housekeepers are not supposed to be pretty, but then we have your Mrs. Seaton.”

“Hands off.”

“My hands off?” Dev raised his head and eyed Westhaven. “My hands off your housekeeper?”

“Yes, Dev. Hands off, and this is not a request.”

“Getting into the ducal spirit, are you?” Dev closed his eyes again and folded his hands on his chest. “Well, no need to issue a decree. I’ll behave, as she is a female employed by a Windham household.”

“Devlin St. Just.” Westhaven’s boots hit the floor with a thump. “Weren’t you swiving your housekeeper while she was engaged to some clueless simian in Windsor?”

“Very likely.” Dev nodded peacefully, eyes closed. “And I put away that toy when honor required it.”

“What sort of honor is this? I comprehend what is expected of a gentleman, generally, but must have missed the part about how we go on when swiving housekeepers.”

“You were going on quite enthusiastically,” Dev said, opening one eye, “when I came down here last night to find a book.”

“I see.”

“On the sofa,” Dev added, “if that pinpoints my interruption of your orgy.”

“It wasn’t an orgy.”

“You were what?” Dev frowned. “Trying to keep her warm? Counting her teeth with your tongue? Teaching her how to sit the trot riding astride? Looked to me for all the world like you were rogering the daylights out of dear Mrs. Seaton.”

“I wasn’t,” Westhaven spat, getting up and pacing to the hearth. “The next thing to it, but not quite the act itself.”

“I believe you,” Dev said, “and that makes it all better. Even though it looked like rogering and sounded like rogering and probably tasted like it, too.”

“Dev…”

“Gayle…” Dev got up and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I am the last person to begrudge you your pleasures, but if I can walk in on you, and I’ve only been underfoot a day, then anybody else can, too.”

Westhaven nodded, conceding the point.

“I don’t care that you and Mrs. Seaton are providing each other some slap-and-tickle, but if you’re so far gone you forget to lock the door, then I am concerned.”

“I didn’t…” Westhaven scrubbed a hand over his face. “I did forget to lock the door, and we haven’t made a habit out of what you saw. I don’t intend to make a habit of it, but if I do, I will lock the door.”

“Good plan.” Dev nodded, gri

“I thought in my own library at nigh midnight I could have privacy,” Westhaven groused.

Dev’s expression became serious. “You ca

“You’re right.” Westhaven blew out a breath. “I know you’re right, but I don’t like it. We will be careful.”

“You be careful,” Dev admonished. “Earlier today, I was minding my own business up on the balcony that opens off my bedroom, and I saw your housekeeper in earnest discussion with the deaf maid. Mrs. Seaton was warning the maid you and Val are men who can’t be trusted nor asked to break the law. I thought you should know.”

“I appreciate your telling me, but I am loathe to react out of hand to words taken out of context. In some villages, there are laws against waving one’s cane in public, and laws against drinking spirits on the Sabbath.”