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“I do need a nap,” A
“I’ll leave you, then,” A
“You will see me at di
She nodded, and he let her go.
Now what in blazes, the earl wondered, could make a sane woman cry upon learning she was financially very well off indeed?
For his part, the knowledge was more than justification for tears. When A
A
“So what will you do with your wealth?” Dev asked. “The only suitable answer is: Buy a horse.”
“She could buy your stud farm,” Val remarked, “and then some.”
“I will look after my grandmother and my sister,” A
“Will you move back north?” Val asked, his smile faltering.
“I don’t know. All of my grandmother’s friends are there; my best memories are there.”
“But some difficult memories, too,” the earl suggested, topping up her wine glass.
“Some very difficult memories. I’ve always thought it made more sense to grow flowers in a more hospitable climate, but the need for them is perhaps greater in the North.”
“Will you grow them commercially?” Dev asked.
“I simply don’t know,” A
“I never learned the habit of smoking,” the earl said, his brothers concurring. “Would you perhaps rather join us in a nightcap, A
“Thank you, no.” A
“I’ll light you up,” the earl offered, crooking his arm at her. A
“I am just tired.”
“You have every right to be.” He patted her hand, and A
“Is this how it’s to be, Westhaven?” She crossed her arms and regarded him as he lit her candles.
“I beg your pardon?” He went on, carefully lighting a candelabra on her mantle.
“I am suddenly a sister to you?” A
“You are not a sister to me.” The earl turned to face her, the planes of his face harsh in the muted light. “But you are under my protection, A
“Why not?” she shot back, wishing her dignity was equal to the task of keeping her mouth shut. “You certainly were willing to before.”
“I was courting you,” he said, “and there were lapses, I admit. But our circumstances are not the same now.”
“Because my grandfather was an earl?”
“It makes a difference, A
“You can’t prove that,” A
He walked over to her, hesitated then reached up to brush a lock of hair back behind her ear. “You are tired, your life is in turmoil, and while I could importune you now, it would hardly be gentlemanly. I have trespassed against you badly enough as it is and would not compound my errors now.”
“And would it be ungentlemanly,” A
He walked around to the front of her, his eyes unreadable.
“Get into your nightclothes,” he said. “I’m going to fetch you some chamomile tea, and then we’ll get you settled.”
A
Still, it hurt terribly that while she missed him, missed him with a throbbing, bodily ache, he was not similarly afflicted. She had disappointed him then refused his very gentlemanly offers and now he was done with her, all but the wrapping up and slaying her dragons part.
“You are ready for bed,” the earl said, carrying a tray with him when he rejoined her. “Your hair is still up. Shall I braid it for you?”
She let him, let him soothe her with his kindness and his familiar touch and his beautiful, mellow baritone describing his conversation with his father and the various details of his day. He lay down beside her on the bed, rubbing her back as she lay on her side. She drifted off to sleep, the feel of his hand on her back and his breath on her neck reassuring her in ways she could not name.
When she woke the next morning, it was later than she’d ever slept before, and there was no trace of the earl’s late-night visit.
A
She cried so much Westhaven remarked upon it to his father.
“Probably breeding.” The duke shrugged. “If she wasn’t one to cry before but she’s crying buckets now, best beware. Does she toss up her accounts?”
“She doesn’t,” the earl said, “but she doesn’t eat much, at least not at meals.”
“Is she sore to the touch?” The duke waved a hand at his chest. “Using the chamber pot every five minutes?”
“I wouldn’t know.” The earl felt himself blushing, but he could easily find out.
“Your dear mother was a crier. Not a particularly sentimental woman, for all her softheartedness, but I knew we were in anticipation of another happy event when she took to napping and crying.”
“I see.” The earl smiled. There were depths to his parents’ intimacy he’d not yet glimpsed, he realized. Sweet depths, rich in caring and humor.
“Mayhap you do.” The duke’s answering smile faded. “And your mother was most affectionate when breeding, as well, not that she isn’t always, but she was particularly in need of cuddling and cosseting, much to my delight. If this woman is carrying your child, Westhaven, it puts matters in a different light.”
“It does.”
“I’m not proud to have sired two bastards”—the duke frowned—“though in my day, these things were considered part of the ordinary course. Times aren’t so tolerant now.”
“They aren’t,” Westhaven agreed, sitting down as the weight of possible fatherhood began to sink in. “I would not wish bastardy on any child of mine.”
“Good of you.” The duke smiled thinly. “The child’s mother is the one you’ll have to convince. Best not fret about it now, though. Things sometimes work themselves out despite our efforts.”