“St. Just is of like mind. He and Val all but asked me what I intend to do about it.”
“You will think of something. I have every faith in you, Percy.”
“Good to know.”
“What was the second piece of evidence confirming your restored health?”
“Come upstairs with me, my love, and I will explain it to you in detail.”
“I am here at the request of my duchess,” Moreland declared.
“Your Grace will always be welcome,” Anna said. “I’m sure Grandmama and Morgan will be sorry they missed you.”
“Making the acquaintance of that scamp, Heathgate.” The duke shook his head. “I could tell you stories about that one, missy, that would curl your hair. His brother is no better, and I pray you do not allow me to stray onto the topic of Amery.”
“He loves your granddaughter,” Anna countered, “but have another crème cake, Your Grace, and tell me how your duchess goes on.”
“She thrives as always in my loving care,” the duke intoned pompously, but then he winked at Anna and reached for a cake. “But you tell her I had three of these, and she will tear a strip off the ducal hide. Seriously, she is doing well, as are the girls. I can’t say the same for old Westhaven, though. That boy is a shambles. Were it not for his brothers, I’d move him back to the mansion.”
“A shambles?” Anna felt the one crème cake she’d finished beginning to rebel.
“A complete shambles.” The duke munched away enthusiastically. “His house is in no order whatsoever. Old Fran is running things any damned way she pleases, and you know that cannot be good for the King’s peace. Tolliver has threatened to quit, St. Just is back to his drinking and brooding, and Valentine has taken to hiding from them both in the music room.”
“I am distressed to hear it. But what of the earl? How does he fare?”
“Forgets to eat.” The duke sighed. “Not a problem he inherited from me. Rides his horse every day, but otherwise, it’s business, business, and more business. You’d think the boy’s a damned cit the way he must read every paragraph and negotiate every price. Mark my words, the next heart seizure will be his.”
“Your Grace,” Anna said earnestly, “isn’t there something you can do? He respects you, more than you know.”
“I’ve reformed.” The duke reached for a fourth crème cake. “I do not meddle. I’ve learned my lesson; Westhaven needs to learn his. He did seem to manage better when you were on hand, but no matter. He’ll muddle along. So”—the duke rose, brushing crumbs from his breeches—“My duchess will want to know, how fare you?”
He leveled a lordly, patrician look at her.
“I am well.” Anna rose a little more slowly.
“Not fainting, are you?” The duke glowered at her. “Makes no sense to me at all. The lord plants a babe in a woman’s womb then has her wilting all over. I can understand the weeps and the constant napping, but the rest of it… Not the way I’d have arranged it. But the Almighty is content to make do without my advice for the nonce, much like my children.”
“I am well,” Anna repeated, but a ringing had started in her ears.
The duke leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Glad to hear it, my dear,” he said, patting her arm. “Westhaven would be glad to hear it, too, I expect.”
“Westhaven?”
“He’s an earl,” the duke said, his eyes twinkling. “Handsome fellow, if a bit too serious. Gets that from his mother. Lonely, if you ask me. I think you’ve met him.”
“I have.” Anna nodded, realizing she’d walked her guest to the door. “Safe journey home, Your Grace. My regards to the family.”
The duke nodded and went smiling on the way to his next destination.
“Not managing well, at all.” The duke shook his head. “Your mother was concerned enough to send me, Westhaven, and I am barely allowed off the leash these days, as you well know.”
“You say she looked pale?”
“Women in her condition might look a little green around the gills at first, but then they bloom, Westhaven. Their hair, their skin, their eyes… She isn’t blooming and she’s off her feed and she looks too tired.”
“I appreciate your telling me this,” the earl said, frowning, “but I don’t see what I can do. She hasn’t asked for my help.”
The duke rose, snitching just one more piece of marzipan. “I am not entirely sure she understands her own condition, my boy. Grew up without a mother; probably thinks it’s all the strain of losing that worthless brother. You might find she needs blunt speech if your offspring isn’t to be a six-months’ wonder.
“A six-months’ wonder,” the duke repeated, “like Bart nearly was. He was an eight-months’ wonder instead, which is readily forgivable.”
“He was a what?” The earl was still frowning and still pondering the duke’s revelations regarding Anna’s decline.
“Eight-months’ wonder.” The duke nodded sagely. “Ask any papa, and he’ll tell you a proper baby takes nine and half months to come full term, first babies sometimes longer. Bart was a little early, as Her Grace could not contain her enthusiasm for me.”
“Her Grace could not…?” The earl felt his ears turn red as the significance of his father’s words sunk in.
“Fine basis for a marriage,” the duke went on blithely. “What? You think all ten children were exclusively my fault? You have much to learn, my lad. Much to learn. Now…” The duke paused with his hand on the door. “When will your new housekeeper start?”
“My new housekeeper?”
“Yes, your mother will want to know and to look the woman over. You can’t allow old Fran to continue tyrannizing your poor footmen.”
“I haven’t hired anybody yet.”
“Best be about it.” The duke glanced around the house disapprovingly. “The place is losing its glow, Westhaven. If you expect to resume your courting maneuvers in the little season, you’ll have to take matters in hand, put on a proper face and all that.”
“I will at that,” the earl agreed, escorting his father to the door. “My thanks for your visit, Your Grace.”
The earl was surprised witless when his father pulled him into a hug.
“My pleasure”—the duke beamed—“and your dear mama is probably relieved to be shut of my irresistible self for an hour or two, as well. Mind you don’t let that old woman in the kitchen get above herself.”
“I’ll pass along your compliments.” The earl smiled, watching his father trot down the front steps with the energy of a man one-third his age.
“Was that our esteemed sire?” Dev asked, emerging from the back of the house.
“It was. If I’d known you were home, I would have made him wait.”
“Oh, no harm done. Did he have anything of merit to impart?”
“Anna is not doing well,” the earl said, wondering when he’d lost all discretion.
“Oh?” Dev arched an eyebrow. “Come into the library, little brother, and tell me and the decanter all about it.”
“No decanter for me,” the earl demurred as he followed Dev through the door, “but some lemonade, perhaps, with lots of sugar.”
“So the duke called on Anna and found her in poor spirits?”
“Poor health, more like. Pale, tired, peaked…”
“Like you.” Dev stirred sugar into his lemonade.
“I am merely busy. As you have been busy liquidating Fairly’s stables.”
“And flirting with his fillies.” Dev grinned. “They are the sweetest bunch, Westhaven. But did His Grace intimate Anna had that on-the-nest look about her?”
“And what would you know about an on-the-nest look?”