The Heir

“You brought me a flower.” A

“I have been trained by an expert.” The earl smiled back. He stayed with her while she ate then beat her at cribbage. When night fell, he asked Val to play for her, the slow, sweet lullabies that would induce a healing sleep. When she woke in the night, he got her to the chamber pot and back into bed and held her left hand until she drifted off. Na

When Dr. Garner reappeared to check the wound, the earl stayed in the room, learning how to replace the dressing and how to identify the signs of proper healing. For three more days, he was by her side, until A

On the fifth day, the duchess came to call with Morgan. While A

A

Morgan missed her sister.

The earl’s offers of marriage had been rejected not once but several times.

The earl was ru

Something was going to have to be done, the duchess concluded, her preferred something obvious to her son.

“Give me a couple more days,” the earl reasoned. “A

“I can understand that,” the duchess said, “and she deserves some notice of a change of abode, but, Westhaven, what will she do now?”

“We’ve discussed it, we’ll discuss it some more. Plan on receiving her the day after tomorrow before tea time.”

“Morgan will be very pleased.” The duchess rose. “You are doing the right thing.” The earl nodded, knowing his mother spoke the truth. It was time to let A

Her convalescence had been pleasant. They’d spent hours together, mostly talking, sometimes reading. The earl worked on his correspondence while A

When those good wishes made her cry, he lent her his handkerchief and his sturdy shoulder and brought her bouquets to cheer her up, and still, they did not talk about what mattered.

“Has my mother put you to rights?” the earl asked. He looked handsome to A

“She clucked and fussed and carried on appropriately,” A

“Your grandmother will be here late next week, you know, if all goes well.” Westhaven sat on the edge of her chaise, regarding her closely. “You don’t look so pale, I’m thinking.”

“I don’t feel so pale,” she assured him. “I’ve not taken the time to just sit in the sun for more than two years, Westhaven. It’s bad for one’s ladylike complexion, but in the North, we crave the sun.”

“Will you be going back there?”

A

“You don’t ask about him,” Westhaven said, taking her hand.

“I assume he is malingering.”

“He is not doing well. It’s to be expected.”

“And Stull?”

“Made bond. But seems content to await trial at the Pig. I did bring trespass charges, just for the hell of it, and assault and conspiracy to assault in your name, as well.”

“Will any of it stick?”

The earl smiled, and the expression had a lot of big, white, sharp teeth to it. “It’s a curious thing about assault, but it’s both a tort and a crime.”

“A tort?” A

“A civil wrong for which the law provides a remedy.” The earl quoted. “Like, oh, slander, libel, and the like.”

“You are saying I can sue him personally, not just bring criminal charges?”

“You already have,” the earl informed her. “On the advice of the duke, of course.”

“Why would I do such a thing, when lawsuits take forever to resolve, and all I want is to be shut of that man immediately?”

“Civil matters are often settled with money judgments, A

“I see.” A

“I will,” he said and brought her hand up sandwiched between both of his. “There’s something else we need to discuss, A

“There is?” She watched him matching their hands, finger for finger.

“Your grandmother will be scandalized to find you dwelling with three bachelors, and my mother has reminded me Morgan is worried about you.”

“Morgan just visited, and my grandmother will hardly be scandalized to find I’m alive and well.”

“A

“Westhaven…” He rose abruptly, and A

He looked up at her use of his name, a sad smile breaking through his frown.

“It is what must be, A

More bleak, A

“I will miss you,” A

“I beg your pardon?” He’d stepped closer, close enough she could catch his scent.

“I will miss you,” A

“Oh, love.” He stroked the back of her head. “You mustn’t cry over this. You’ll manage, and so will I, and it’s for the best.” She nodded but made no move to pull away, and he held her as closely as her wounded shoulder would allow.

In the library, Val looked up from rummaging for a penknife and frowned at Dev.

“Are you peeking?” Val asked, moving to stand beside his brother at the window.

“Enjoying my front-row seat,” Dev replied, scowling. “I do not understand our brother, Valentine. He loves that woman and would give his life for her. But he’s letting her go, and she’s letting him let her go.”

“Could be a flanking maneuver.” Val watched as A

“Come away.” Val tugged at Dev’s sleeve, and Dev left the window. “We should not have seen that.”

“But we did see it,” Dev said. “Now what are we going to do about it?”