The Heir

The duchess patted A

“It is no trial to work for Lord Westhaven,” A

“Your Grace?” Westhaven smiled as he strolled from the mews. “What a pleasure to see you.” He bent to kiss his mother’s cheek and used the gesture to wink at A

“I’ve been trying without success to grill her about whether you finish your pudding these days.” The duchess stood and took her son’s proffered arm. The earl smiled at A

“I can see you are indeed faring well, Westhaven. You dropped too much weight this spring; gauntness did not become you.”

“My staff is taking good care of me. You will be pleased to know both Dev and Val are enjoying my hospitality, as well. They’ll be along shortly, but were arguing about a horse when I left the stables.”

“I heard no shouting,” the duchess remarked. “It ca

“Dev wants Val to take on some work with one of his horses. Val is demurring,” the earl explained. “Or letting Dev work for it. How are His Grace and my dear sisters?”

“The girls are glad to be at Morelands, with the heat being so oppressive. They might come back for Fairly’s ball, however.”

“About which you can regale us at breakfast,” Westhaven said. “You will join us. I won’t hear otherwise.”

“I would be delighted.” The duchess smiled at her son, a smile of such warmth and loving regard A

“My lord, Your Grace.” A

“Please don’t put them to any bother, Mrs. Seaton,” the duchess said. “The company of my sons is treat enough on any day.” The earl offered A

“She dotes on you,” the duchess commented when A

“She dotes on all three of us. We have all the comforts a conscientious housekeeper can imagine for us, and then some. Do you know, she keeps marzipan in the pantry for me, chocolates for Val, and candied violets for Dev? We have flowers in every room, the linens are all scented with lavender or rosemary, the house stays cool even in this heat, and I ca

Her Grace paused on the back steps. “She did all this before you’d brought your brothers to stay with you, didn’t she?”

“She did. I just notice it more now.”

“Grief can turn us inward,” the duchess said quietly. “I was concerned for you, Westhaven. I know His Grace left the finances in a muddle, but it seems as if cleaning up after your father was all you made time for this spring.”

“The finances are still not untangled, Your Grace. We were not faring very well when I was given the reins.”

“Are we in difficulties?” the duchess asked carefully.

“No, but we nearly would have been. In some ways, Victor’s mourning period saved us some very timely entertaining expenses. A house party at Morelands is nothing compared to one of your balls, Mother.”

“You call me Mother when you scold me, Westhaven, but this ball will be underwritten by Fairly and his in-laws, so you needn’t frown at me.”

“My apologies.” They turned at the sound of his brothers’ voices coming up the garden paths.

“What ho!” Dev called, gri

“Mother.” Val smiled down at her. “You will join us for breakfast so these two mind their ma

“I will join you for breakfast to feast my eyes on the greatest display of young male pulchritude to be had in all of London.”

“She flatters,” Westhaven said, “before interrogating, no doubt.”

The duchess floated into the house, one hand tucked by Westhaven’s side, the other wrapped on Val’s arm. Dev watched them go, smiling at the tableau before turning back to the rose bushes along the far wall, where A

He propped a booted foot against the low stone wall bordering the bed. “How badly did she interrogate you?”

“Good morning, Colonel St. Just.” A

“I will not,” St. Just replied. He emphasized his response by putting a hand on A

“You need not like me,” A

“Or what, A

“You are not a bully, Colonel, whatever else may trouble you.”

He stepped back, frowning.

“You aggravate me, Mrs. Seaton,” he said at length. “I want to assure myself you are a scheming, selfish, vapid little tramp with airs above your station, but the assurance just won’t ring true.”

A

“Now, see?” St. Just almost smiled. “That’s what I mean. You don’t bother to deny the labels, you just hand them back to me in a neat, tidy little package of subtle castigation. Perhaps I’m only wishing you were venal, so I might poach on my brother’s preserves with moral impunity.”

“You would not poach on your brother’s preserves,” A

“Happens”—he did smile—“I am not, but it also happens you are not just the simple, devoted housekeeper you would have the world think you are, either.”

“My past is my own business. Now have you business with me, Colonel, or are you being gratuitously unpleasant?”

“Business,” he said shortly. “You have rightly surmised I brood and paw and snort at times for show, Mrs. Seaton. It keeps His Grace from getting ideas, for one thing. But make no mistake on this point: I will defend my brother’s interests without exception or scruple. If I find you are playing him false in any sense or trifling with him, I will become your worst enemy.”

A

“He might understand them,” St. Just said. “For the other message I have to convey to you is that to the extent you matter to my brother, you matter to me. If he decides he values you in his life, then I will also defend you without exception or scruple.”

“What is it you are saying?”

“You are a woman with troubles, A