The Heir

“He is not.” Hazlit fished in a pocket of his coat, and brought out a small pad of a paper. “Have you a pen?”

The earl got up and went to his desk, setting out ink, pen, sand, and knife on the blotter. Hazlit brought his drink to the desk, assumed the earl’s wingback chair, and with the earl looking over his shoulder, sketched a figure of a man.

“Helmsley,” Hazlit said tersely, tearing off the sheet and starting another sketch, this one of the man’s face. While Hazlit sketched, the earl studied the little ink drawing.

“Helmsley has bulk to him,” Hazlit said as he worked. “He’s close to six feet, and bad living is going to ensure middle age is a short interlude before the man’s shoulders are stooped, his gut sagging, and his face lined. There.”

Hazlit tore off the second drawing. “He bears a slight resemblance to your housekeeper around the eyes and perhaps in the texture and color of the hair.”

“He does.” The earl frowned. “He’s older than A

“He is. He is not your portly man, though. He qualifies as well fed but not obese.”

“Can you take this picture to the man who sold the lamp oil?” the earl suggested, picking up the second drawing. “And maybe get a description of the other fellow?”

“I can. I can also go back north and ask around regarding the portly man.”

“That will take some time.” The earl leaned against the arm of the sofa. “I hardly need tell you to spare no expense.” He appeared lost in thought, and Hazlit waited. “Do you think A

“She hasn’t been seen much off the estate since her husband died,” Hazlit replied. “That does not suggest good health, but it might also mean she’s a virtual prisoner.”

The earl looked up sharply, and Hazlit had the sense his casual comment snapped something into place in the earl’s mind.

“If we ca

“And the fat man?” Hazlit rose. “We know he’s in Town and that he’s probably lying in wait for Mrs. Seaton.”

“But waiting for what?” the earl mused. “For the brother to come to Town and have the legal right to reclaim his sisters, perhaps?”

“Good question,” Hazlit agreed. “Let me take the sketches with me, and maybe by tomorrow, I can have some answers for you.”

“My thanks,” the earl said, showing his guest to the front door.

Westhaven sat in the library for long moments, sipping cold tea and staring at the first sketch. When A

“You are up late,” she observed, going into his arms. He kissed her cheek, and A

“So warm them up,” he teased, kissing her cheek again. “I’ve been swilling cold tea and whiskey and putting off having an argument with you.”

“What are we going to argue about?” A

“Your safety,” he said, tugging her by the wrist to the sofa. “I want to ask you, one more time, to let me help you, A

“Why now?” she asked, searching his eyes.

“You have your character,” he pointed out. “Val told me you asked him for it, and he gave it to you, as well as one for Morgan.”

“A character is of no use to me if it isn’t in my possession.”

“A

“That was not our arrangement. Why can you not simply accept I must solve my own problems? Why must you take this on, too?”

He looped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her against him. “Aren’t you the one telling me I should lean on my family a little more? Let my brothers help with business matters? Set my mother and sisters some tasks?”

“Yes.” She buried her nose against his shoulder. “But I am not the heir to the Duke of Moreland. I am a simple housekeeper, and my problems are my own.”

“I’ve tried,” he said, kissing her temple. “I’ve tried and tried and tried to win your trust, A

“No,” she said, “you ca

“You leave me no choice. I will take steps on my own tomorrow to safeguard you and your sister, as well.”

She just nodded, leaving him to wonder what it was she didn’t say. His other alternative was to wash his hands of her, and that he could not do. “Come up to bed with me?”

“Of course,” she said and let him draw her to her feet.

He said nothing, not with words, not as they undressed each other, not as they settled into one another’s arms on his big, soft bed. But when communications were offered by touch, by sigh and kiss and caress, he told her loved her and would lay down his life to keep her safe.

She told him she loved him, that she would always treasure the memories she held of him, that she would never love another.

And she told him good-bye.

The next day started out in a familiar pattern, with the earl riding in the park with his brothers and A

When the earl and his brothers were safely away from the mews, he wasted no time informing them of recent developments.

“So as long as this Whit is content to bilk his employers and draw out his surveillance contract,” the earl concluded, “we have some time, but it becomes more imperative than ever that A

“Where is she now?” Dev asked, frowning at his horse’s neck.

“At market, with a footman on each arm, both ordered not to let her out of their sight.”

“Let’s ride home by way of the market,” Dev suggested. “I have an odd feeling.”

Val and the earl exchanged an ominous look. Whether it was Dev’s Irish gra

They trotted through the streets, the morning crowds thi

“Split up,” the earl directed, handing his reins to a boy and flipping the child a coin. “Walk him.”

Val and Dev moved off through the crowd, even as the back of the earl’s neck began to prickle. What if Fairly’s guardian urchin was wrong, and Whit had gotten tired of watching in the heat? What if A

A disturbance in the crowd to his left had the earl pushing his way through the throng. In the center of a circle of gawking onlookers, A

“Come quietly, A

A

“We can collect little Morgan,” the man went on, happy with his plans, “and be back to York in a week’s time. You’ll enjoy seeing your gra

The mention of Morgan’s name brought a martial light into A