It was more than Helmsley deserved.
“Anna.” The earl’s hand traced her hairline gently. “Let me do this.”
She met his gaze and frowned, but he wasn’t finished. “Let me put matters to rights for you. I will take care of your brother and see to final arrangements if any need be made. If you like, I will notify your grandmother and have her escorted south. We can do this in the ducal traveling coach, in easy stages, I promise.”
“Do it, please,” Anna said, wiping at her eyes with her left hand. “My thanks.”
“Anna.” Westhaven shifted to sit at her left hip and leaned down over her. He carefully cradled her cheek with his left hand and tucked her face against his neck. “It’s all right to cry, sweetheart.”
She wiggled her left arm out from between them and circled his neck, pulling him close, and then turned her face into his warmth and wept. Unable to move much beyond that, her tears streamed from her eyes into her hair and onto the earl’s cheek. He held her and stroked her wet cheeks with his thumb, letting her cry until his own chest began to ache for her.
Westhaven levered up enough to meet her gaze. “You must allow me to manage what I can for you now. All I want is to see you healed, the sooner the better.”
“For now, have you a handkerchief, perhaps?”
“I do.” He produced the requisite handkerchief and wiped at her cheeks himself before tucking it into her left hand. “And I am willing to read you Caesar, beat you at cribbage, discuss interior decoration with you, or speed your recovery by any means you please.”
“I am to be served my own medicine,” Anna said ruefully.
“Or perhaps you’d like to be served something to eat? Maybe just some toast with a little butter or jam, or some soup?”
“Toast and butter, and some cold tea.”
“It will be my pleasure.” The earl rose and left her. And Anna felt his absence keenly. Nanny Fran was dear, but she muttered and fussed and did very little to actually ensure the patient was comfortable. The earl returned, bearing a tray with cold tea, buttered toast, a single piece of marzipan, and a daisy in a bud vase.
“You brought me a flower.” Anna smiled, the first genuine smile she’d felt in ages.
“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. Nanny Fran shooed him out the next morning, but by early afternoon he was back.
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 Anna was pronounced well enough to sit in the gardens and move about a little under her own power.
On the fifth day, the duchess came to call with Morgan. While Anna and Morgan chatted volubly in the back gardens, the duchess took her son aside and pointed out some difficult truths.
Anna was the acknowledged granddaughter of an earl, and the danger of infection was diminishing with each day.
Morgan missed her sister.
The earl’s offers of marriage had been rejected not once but several times.
The earl was running a bachelor establishment, not just for himself but for his two equally unmarried brothers.
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. “Anna is still uncomfortable, and even a short carriage ride will be difficult for her.”
“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 Anna get on with her life and to stop hoarding up memories of her for his own pleasure.
Her convalescence had been pleasant. They’d spent hours together, mostly talking, sometimes reading. The earl worked on his correspondence while Anna slept or while she dozed in the shade of the gardens. They talked about the Rosecroft estate up in Yorkshire and the effect of her brother’s lack of heirs; they talked of Morelands and how pretty it was. He apprised her of the rebuilding of the stables at Willow Bend and brought her correspondence from the Marchioness of Heathgate and Gwen Allen, wishing her a speedy recovery.
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 Anna, in shirtsleeves and waistcoat, his cuffs turned back as he wandered onto the back terrace where she was enjoying the sunshine on a chaise.
“She clucked and fussed and carried on appropriately,” Anna said. “I am to make a speedy and uneventful recovery by ducal decree.”
“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?”
Anna fingered the cuff of her sleeve. “I do not want to. I want to remember Rosecroft as it was in my grandfather’s day, not in the neglect and disrepair my brother allowed.”
“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?” Anna frowned.
“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, Anna, and while you might think you have sufficient capital, Morgan might not be of the same mind, nor your grandmother.”
“I see.” Anna pursed her lips. “I trust your judgment, Westhaven. Proceed as you see fit.”
“I will,” he said and brought her hand up sandwiched between both of his. “There’s something else we need to discuss, Anna.”
“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.”