Текст книги "The Heir"
Автор книги: Grace Burrowes
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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 22 страниц)
“You are up late,” she observed, going into his arms. He kissed her cheek, and Anna squealed. “And your lips are cold.”
“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?” Anna asked, pulling back enough to regard him warily.
“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, Anna. I have the sense if you don’t let me assist you now, it might soon be too late.”
“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.”
“Anna,” he chided, his thumb rubbing over her wrist, “you could have told me.”
“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, Anna, but I can’t make you trust me.”
“No,” she said, “you cannot.”
“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 Anna joining Cook on the weekly marketing. The women took two footmen as was their usual custom. Unbeknownst to Anna, the earl had taken both men aside and acquainted them with the need to serve as bodyguards and not just porters.
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 Anna not be left alone.”
“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 granny, his own instincts, or mere superstition, when Dev got a hunch, it was folly to ignore it.
They trotted through the streets, the morning crowds thinned by the heat. The market was bustling, however, with all manner of produce and household sundries for sale as women, children, and the occasional man strolled from vendor to vendor.
“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 Anna had chosen today to slip out of his life? What if the fat man was a procurer, and Anna was already on her way to some foul crib on the Continent?
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, Anna stood, her wrist in the grasp of a large, seriously overweight man. Westhaven took one step back then set his fingers to his lips to emit a shrill whistle.
“Come quietly, Anna,” the fat man crooned. “I’ll be good to you, and you won’t have to live like a menial anymore. Now don’t make me summon the beadle, my girl.”
Anna merely stood there, resistance in every line of her posture.
“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 granny again, won’t you?”
The mention of Morgan’s name brought a martial light into Anna’s eye, and she looked up, fire in her gaze, until she saw Westhaven. She sent him a heartrending look, one it took him an instant to decipher: Protect my sister.
“Morgan isn’t with me,” Anna said, her tone resolute. “You get me or nothing, Stull. And I’ll come quietly if we leave this minute for York, otherwise…”
“Otherwise,” Stull sneered, jerking her arm, “nothing. You are well and truly caught, Anna James, and we’ll find your sister, too. Otherwise, indeed.”
The earl stepped out of the crowd and twisted the fat man’s hand off Anna’s wrist. “Otherwise, bugger off, sir.”
Stull rubbed his wrist, eyeing the earl truculently. “I don’t know what she’s told you, good fellow”—he tried for an avuncular tone—“or what she’s promised you, but I will thank you to take your hands off my wife and leave us to return peaceably to our home in Yorkshire.”
The earl snorted and wrapped an arm around Anna’s shoulders. “You are no more her husband than I am the King. You have accosted a woman for no reason and treated her abominably. This woman is in my employ and under my protection. You will leave her in peace.”
“Leave her in peace?!” Stull screeched. “Leave her in peace when I’ve traveled the length and breadth of this country seeking just to bring her home? And she’s dragged her poor, addled sister with her, from one sorry scheme to another, when I have a betrothal contract signed and duly witnessed. It’s no wonder I don’t have her sued for breach of promise, b’gad.”
The earl let him bellow on until Dev and Val were in position on either side of the ranting Stull, a constable frowning at Val’s elbow.
“Sir,” the earl cut in, his voice cold enough to freeze the ears off of anybody with any sense. “You have produced no such contract, and you are not family to the lady. I do not deal with intermediaries, and I do not deal with arsonists.” He nodded to Dev and Val, each of whom seized Stull by one beefy arm. “I want this man arrested for arson, Constable, and held without bond. The lady might also want to bring charges for assault, but we can sort that out when you have him in custody.”
“Along with ye, then,” the constable ordered Stull. “His lordship’s word carries weightwith me, and that puts you under arrest, sir. Come peaceable, and we won’t have to apply the King’s justice to your fat backside.”
The crowd laughed as Dev and Val obligingly escorted their charge in the constable’s wake. The earl was left with Anna in his arms and more questions than ever.
“Come.” He led Anna to his horse and tossed her up, then climbed up behind her. He was on Dev’s big young gelding, and the horse stood like a statue until Westhaven gave the command to walk on. Anna was silent and the earl himself in no mood to hold a difficult discussion on the back of a horse. He kept an arm around her waist while she leaned quietly against his chest until they were in the mews.
When the grooms led the horse away, Westhaven tugged Anna by the wrist across the alley and through the back gardens, pausing only when Morgan came into sight, a basket over her arm.
“Morgan!” Anna dropped the earl’s hand and rushed to wrap her arms around her sister. “Oh, thank God you’re safe.”
Morgan shot a quizzical look over Anna’s shoulder at the earl.
“We ran into Stull in the market,” the earl explained, watching the sisters hugging each other. “He was of a mind to take his betrothed north without further ado. I was not of a mind to allow it.”
“Thank God,” Morgan said quietly but clearly. Anna stepped back and blinked.
“Morgan?” She eyed her sister closely. “Did you just say ‘thank God?’”
“I did.” Morgan met her sister’s gaze. “I did.”
“You can hear and speak,” the earl observed, puzzled. “How long have you feigned deafness?”
“When you went out to Willow Bend, Anna.” Morgan’s eyes pleaded for understanding. “Lord Val took me to see Lord Fairly. He’s a physician—a real physician, and he was able to help. I’ve not wanted to tell you, for fear it wouldn’t last, but it’s been days, and oh, the things I’ve heard… the wonderful, beautiful things I’ve heard.”
“I am so happy for you.” Anna pulled her close again. “So damned happy for you, Morgan. Talk to me, please, talk to me until my ears fall off.”
“I love you,” Morgan said. “I’ve wanted to say that—just that—for years. I love you, and you are the best sister a deaf girl ever had.”
“I love you, too,” Anna said, tears threatening, “and this is the best gift a deaf girl’s sister ever had.”
“Well, come along you two.” The earl put a sister under each arm. “As pleasing as this development is, there is still a great deal of trouble brewing.” As both sisters were in tears, it clearly fell to him to exercise some rational process, otherwise the lump in his own throat might have to be acknowledged.
He ushered them into his study, poured lemonade all around, and considered the situation as Anna and Morgan beamed at each other like idiots.
“Don’t forget your sugar,” Anna said, turning her smile on him. “Oh, Westhaven, my sister can hear! This makes it all worthwhile, you know? If Morgan and I hadn’t fled York, she might never have seen this physician. And if you can hear and speak…”
“I cannot be so easily declared incompetent,” Morgan finished, grinning.
“Unless…” Anna’s smile dimmed, and she glanced hesitantly at the earl. “Unless Stull and Helmsley convince the authorities you were feigning your disability, and that would be truly peculiar.”
The earl frowned mightily. “Rather than speculate on that matter, what can you tell me about this betrothal contract Stull ranted about. Is it real?”
“It is,” Anna said, holding his gaze, her smile fading to a grimace. “It is very real. There are two contracts, in fact. One obligates me to marry him in exchange for sums he will pay to my brother; the other obligates Morgan to marry him in the event I do not, for the same consideration.”
“So your brother has sold you to that hog.” It made sense enough. “And you were unwilling to go join him in his wallow.”
“Morgan was to have come with me,” Anna added, “or I with her. Whichever sister he married, he agreed to provide a home for the other sister, as well. Even if I married him, I could not have kept Morgan safe from him.”
“He is depraved, then?”
“I would not have rejected a suitor out of hand,” Anna said, her chin coming up, “just for an unfortunate fondness for his victuals. Stull makes the beasts appear honorable, though.”
“And you know this how?”
“Grandmother hired on a twelve-year-old scullery maid,” Anna said wearily. “The girl was nigh torn asunder trying to bear Stull’s bastard. The baby did not live, but the mother did—barely. She was not”—Anna glanced at Morgan—“mature for her years, and she had no family. Stull preyed on her then tossed her aside.”
“Who is he? He comports himself like a man of consequence, at least in his own mind.”
“Hedley Arbuthnot, eighth Baron Stull,” Anna said. “My betrothed.”
“Don’t be so sure about that.” The earl looked at her, frowning. “I want to see these contracts, as in the first place, I don’t think a conditional betrothal is enforceable, and in the second, there is the question of duress.” And a host of other legal questions, such as whether Helmsley had executed the contracts on behalf of his sisters, and if Morgan was a minor when he did. Or did he sign on behalf of Anna, who was not a minor, and thus bind himself rather than her?
And where in the tangle of questions did the matter of guardianship of the ladies’ funds come into it?
The earl looked at Morgan. “You are going to let my brother escort you to the ducal mansion. Stull does not know where you are and does not know you have regained your ability to speak and hear. It is to our advantage to keep it that way.”
“You”—the earl turned an implacable glare on Anna—“are going to go unpack your damned valise and meet me back here, and no running off. Your word, or I will alert the entire staff to your plans, and you will be watched from here to Jericho unless I am with you.”
“You have my word,” she said quietly, rising to go, but turning at the last to give Morgan one more hug.
She left a ringing silence behind her, in which the earl helped himself to the whiskey decanter, pouring a hefty tot into his lemonade.
“So what hasn’t she told me?” The earl turned and met Morgan’s gaze.
“I don’t know what she has told you.”
“Precious bloody little.” The earl took a swallow of his cocktail. “That she was keeping confidences and could not allow me to assist her. Christ.”
“She was. My grandmother made us both promise our situation would not become known outside the three of us. Anna and I have both kept our word in that regard, until now.”
The earl ran a hand through his hair. “How could this come about? That Anna could be obligated to marry a loathsome excuse for a bore—or boar?”
“It was cleverly done.” Morgan sighed and stood, crossing her arms as she regarded the back gardens through the French doors. “Helmsley sent Grandmother and me off to visit a friend of hers, then took Anna aside and told her if she didn’t sign the damned contract, he’d have me declared incompetent. In a similar fashion, he told me if I didn’t sign the contract, then he’d put a pillow over Grandmother’s face. Anna doesn’t know about that part, and I don’t think he’d do it…”
“But he could. What a rotter, this brother of yours. And lousy at cards, I take it?”
“Very. We were in hock up to our eyeballs two years ago.”
“So he probably told your grandmother some Banbury tale, as well,” the earl said, staring at his drink. “What do you think would make Anna happy now?”
“To be home,” Morgan said. “To know Grandmother is safe, to see Grandpapa’s gardens again, to know I am safe. To stop running and looking over her shoulder and pretending to be something we’re not.”
“And you, Morgan?” The earl shifted to stand beside her. “What do you want?”
“I want Anna to be happy,” Morgan said, swallowing and blinking. “She was so… So pretty and happy and loving when Grandpapa was alive. And the past two years, she’s been reduced to drudgery just so I would be safe. She deserves to be happy, to be free and safe and…” She was crying, unable to get out the rest of whatever she wanted to say. The earl put down his drink, fished in his pocket for his handkerchief, and pulled Morgan into his arms.
“She deserves all that,” he agreed, patting her shoulder. “She’ll have it, too, Morgan. I promise you she’ll have what she wants.”
When Val and Dev joined him in the library less than an hour later, Anna was still unpacking while Morgan was busy packing. The earl explained what he knew of the situation, pleased to hear the magistrate had agreed to delay Stull’s bond hearing for another two days.
“That gives us time to get Morgan to Their Graces,” the earl said, glancing at Val. “Unless you object?”
“It wouldn’t be my place to object,” Val said, his lips pursed, “but I happen to concur. Morgan can use some pampering, and Her Grace feels miserable for having set Hazlit on their trail. This will allow expiation of Her Grace’s sins, and distract His Grace, as well.”
“Creates a bit of a problem for you,” Dev pointed out.
“How so?” Val frowned.
“How are you going to continue to convince our sire you are a mincing fop, when every time Morgan walks by, you practically trip over your tongue?”
“My tongue, Dev, not my cock. If you could comprehend the courage it takes to be deaf and mute in a society that thinks it is neither, you would be tripping at the sight of her, as well.”
Dev spared a look at the earl, who kept his expression carefully neutral.
“You will both escort Morgan to Their Graces later this afternoon,” Westhaven said. “For now, I’d like you to remain here, keeping an eye on Anna.”
“You don’t trust her?” Dev asked, censorship in his tone.
“She gave her word not to run, but I am not convinced Stull was the only threat to her. Her own brother got her involved in this scheme with Stull, and he’s the one who benefits should Stull get his hands on Anna. Where is Helmsley, and what is his part in this?”
“Good question,” Dev allowed. “Go call on Their Graces, then, and leave the ladies in our capable hands.”
Val nodded. “His Grace will be flattered into a full recovery to think you’d entrust a damsel in distress to his household.”
The earl nodded, knowing it was a good point. Still, he was sending Morgan to the duke and duchess because their home was safe, a near fortress, with servants who knew better than to allow strangers near the property or the family members. And it was nearby, which made getting Morgan there simple. Then, too, Anna saw the wisdom of it, making it one less issue he had to argue and bully her through.
He found Anna in her sitting room, sipping tea, the evil valise nowhere in sight.
“I’m off to Moreland House,” the earl informed her, “to ask Their Graces to provide Morgan sanctuary. I will ask on your behalf, as well, if it’s what you want.”
“Do you want me to go with her?” Anna asked, her gaze searching his.
“I do not,” he said. “It’s one thing to ask my father and mother to keep Morgan safe, when Stull isn’t even sure she’s in London. It’s another to ask them to keep you safe, when I am on hand to do so and have already engaged the enemy, so to speak.”
“Stull isn’t your enemy,” Anna said, dropping her gaze. “If it hadn’t been him, my brother would have found somebody else.”
“I am not so convinced of that, Anna.” The earl lowered himself into a rocking chair. “The society in York is provincial compared to what we have here in London. My guess is that there were likely few willing to collude with your brother in defrauding your grandfather’s estate, shackling you and Morgan to men you found repugnant and impoverishing your sickly grandmother into the bargain.”
“That is blunt speech,” she said at length.
“I am angry, Anna.” The earl rose again. “I fear diplomacy is beyond me.”
“Are you angry with me?”
“Oh, I want to be,” he assured her, his gaze raking her up and down. “I want to be furious, to turn you over my knee and paddle you until my hand hurts, to shake you and rant and treat the household to a tantrum worthy of His Grace.”
“I am sorry.” Anna’s gaze dropped to the carpet.
“I am not angry with you,” the earl said gravely, “but your brother and his crony will have much to answer for.”
“You are disappointed in me.”
“I am concernedfor you,” the earl said tiredly. “So concerned I am willing to seek the aid of His Grace, and to pull every string and call in every favor the old man can spare me. Just one thing, Anna?”
She met his gaze, looking as though she was prepared to hear the worst: Pack your things, get out of my sight, give me back those glowing characters.
“Be here when I get back,” the earl said with deadly calm. “And expect to have a long talk with me when this is sorted out.”
She nodded.
He waited to see if she had anything else to add, any arguments, conditions, or demurrals, but for once, his Anna apparently had the sense not to fight him. He turned on his heel and left before she could second guess herself.
Sixteen
“I HAVE COME TO SEEK ASSISTANCE,” WESTHAVEN SAID, meeting his father’s gaze squarely. The duke was enjoying his early afternoon tea on the back terrace of the mansion, and looking to his son like a man in a great good health.
“Seems to be the season for it,” the duke groused. “Your dear mother will hardly let me chew my meat without assistance. You’d best have a seat, man, lest she catch me craning my neck to see you.”
“She means well,” the earl said, his father’s response bringing a slight smile to his lips.
The duke rolled his eyes. “And how many times, Westhaven, has she attempted to placate your irritation with me, using that same phrase? Tea?”
“More than a few,” the earl allowed. “She doesn’t want to lose you, though, and so you must be patient with her. And yes, a spot of tea wouldn’t go amiss.”
“Patient!” the duke said with a snort. He poured his son a cup and added a helping of sugar. “That woman knows just how far she can push me, with her Percy this and dear heart that. But you didn’t come here to listen to me resent your mother’s best intentions. What sort of assistance do you need?”
“I’m not sure,” Westhaven said, accepting the cup of tea, “but it involves a woman, or two women.”
“Well, thank the lord for small favors.” The duke smiled. “Say on, lad. It’s never as bad as you think it is, and there are very few contretemps you could get into I haven’t been in myself.”
At his father’s words, a constriction weighting Westhaven’s chest lifted, leaving him able to breathe and strangely willing to enlist his father’s support. He briefly outlined the situation with Anna and Morgan, and his desire to keep Morgan’s whereabouts unknown.
“Of course she’s welcome.” The duke frowned. “Helmsley’s granddaughter? I think he was married to that… oh, Bellefonte’s sister or aunt or cousin. Your mother will know. Bring her over; the girls will flutter and carry on and have a grand time.”
“She can’t leave the property,” Westhaven cautioned. “Unless it’s to go out to Morelands in a closed carriage.”
“I am not to leave Town until your quacks allow it,” the duke reported. “There’s to be no removing to the country just yet for these old bones, thank you very much.”
“How are you feeling?” the earl asked, the question somehow different from all the other times he’d asked it.
“Mortality,” the duke said, “is a daunting business, at first. You think it will be awful to die, to miss all the future holds for your loved ones, for your little parliamentary schemes. I see now, however, that there will come a time when death will be a relief, and it must have been so for your brother Victor. At some point, it isn’t just death; it’s peace.”
Shocked at both the honesty and the depth of his father’s response, Westhaven listened as he hadn’t listened to his father in years.
“My strength is returning,” the duke said, “and I will live to pester you yet a while longer, I hope, but when I was so weak and certain my days were over, I realized there are worse things than dying. Worse things than not securing the bloody succession, worse things than not getting the Lords to pass every damned bill I want to see enacted.”
“What manner of worse things?”
“I could never have known your mother,” the duke said simply. “I could linger as an invalid for years, as Victor did. I could have sent us all to the poor house and left you an even bigger mess to clean up. I guess”—the duke smiled slightly—“I am realizing what I have to be grateful for. Don’t worry…” The smile became a grin. “This humble attitude won’t last, and you needn’t look like I’ve had a personal discussion with St. Peter. But when one is forbidden to do more than simply lie in bed, one gets to thinking.”
“I suppose one does.” The earl sat back, almost wishing his father had suffered a heart seizure earlier in life.
“Now, about your Mrs. Seaton,” the duke went on. “You are right; the betrothal contracts are critical but so are the terms of the guardianship provisions in the old man’s will. In the alternative, there could be a separate guardianship document, one that includes the trusteeship of the girl’s money, and you have to get your hands on that, as well.”
“Not likely,” the earl pointed out. “It was probably drawn up in York and remains in Helmsley’s hands.”
“But he will have to bring at least the guardianship papers with him if he’s to retrieve his sisters. You say they are both over the age of eighteen, but the trust document might give him control of their money until they marry, turn five and twenty, or even thirty.”
“I can ask Anna about that, but I have to ask you about something else.”
The duke waited, stirring his tea while Westhaven considered how to put his question. “Hazlit has pointed out I could protect Anna by simply marrying her. Would you and Her Grace receive her?”
In a display of tact that would have made the duchess proud and quite honestly impressed Westhaven, the duke leaned over and topped off both tea cups.
“I put this question to your mother,” the duke admitted, “as my own judgment, according to my sons, is not necessarily to be trusted. I will tell you what Her Grace said, because I think it is the best answer: We trust you to choose wisely, and if Anna Seaton is your choice, we will be delighted to welcome her into the family. Your mother, after all, was not my father’s choice and no more highly born than your Anna.”
“So you would accept her.”
“We would, but Gayle?”
His father had not referred to him by name since Bart’s death, and Westhaven found he had to look away.
“You are a decent fellow,” the duke went on, “too decent, I sometimes think. I know, I know.” He waved a hand. “I am all too willing to cut corners, to take a dodgy course, to use my consequence at any turn, but you are the opposite. You would not shirk a responsibility if God Almighty gave you leave to do so. I am telling you, in the absence of the Almighty’s availability: Do not marry her out of pity or duty or a misguided sense you want a woman in debt to you before you marry her. Marry her because you can’t see the rest of your life without her and you know she feels the same way.”
“You are telling me to marry for love,” Westhaven concluded, bemused and touched.
“I am, and you will please tell your mother I said so, for I am much in need of her good graces these days, and this will qualify as perhaps the only good advice I’ve ever given you.”
“The only good advice?” Westhaven countered. “Wasn’t it you who told me to let Dev pick out my horses for me? You who said Val shouldn’t be allowed to join up to keep an eye on Bart? You who suggested the canal project?”
“Even a blind hog finds an acorn now and then,” the duke quipped. “Or so my brother Tony reminds me.”
“I will get my hands on those contracts.” The earl rose. “And the guardianship and trust documents, as well, if you’ll keep Morgan safe.”
“Consider it done.” The duke said, rising. “Look in on your mama before you go.”
“I will,” Westhaven said, stepping closer and hugging his father briefly. To his surprise, the duke hugged him right back.
“My regards to St. Just.” The duke smiled winsomely. “Tell him not to be a stranger.”
“He’ll come over with Val this evening,” Westhaven said, “but I will pass along your felicitations.”
The duke watched his heir disappear into the house, not surprised when a few minutes later the duchess came out to join him.
“You should be napping,” his wife chided. “Westhaven was behaving peculiarly.”
“Oh?” The duke slipped an arm around his wife’s waist. “How so?”
“He walked in, kissed my cheek, and said, ‘His Grace has advised me to marry for love,’ then left. Not like him at all.” The duchess frowned. “Are you feeling well, Percy?”
“Keeps his word, that boy.” The duke smiled. “I am feeling better, Esther, and we did a good job with Westhaven. Knows his duty, he does, and will make a fine duke.”
Her Grace kissed his cheek. “More to the point, he makes a fine son, and he will make an even better papa.”
“From this point on,” the earl said, “you are my guest, the granddaughter and sister of an earl, and every inch a lady.”
“A lady would not be staying under your roof unchaperoned.”
“Of course not, but your circumstances require allowances to be made. Morgan is safe at the mansion, and you will be safe with me.”
Anna rose from the library sofa. “And what if you cannot keep me safe? What if the betrothal contract is genuine? What if when I break that contract, the damned baron has the right to marry Morgan?”
“I can tell you straight out Morgan’s contract is not valid,” the earl replied. “She signed it herself, and as a minor, she cannot make binding contracts except for necessaries. Even if a spouse is considered a necessary, she can legally repudiate the contract upon her majority. The family solicitors are busily drafting just such a repudiation, though it would be helpful to see the contract she signed.”
“You are absolutely sure of this?”
“I am absolutely sure of this,” the earl rejoined. “I spend hours each day up to my elbows in the small print of all manner of contracts, Anna, and I read law at university, since that is one profession open to younger sons. Morgan cannot be forced to marry Stull.”
“Thank you.” Anna sat back down, the fight going out of her. “Thank you so much for that.”
“You are welcome.”
At least, Anna thought, he wasn’t telling her he wanted to paddle her black and blue, and he wasn’t tossing her out on her ear—not yet. But he’d learned what manner of woman she was, one who would sign a contract she didn’t mean to fulfill; one who would flee familial duty; one who would lie, hide, and flee again to avoid security and respectability for both herself and her sister.
The earl took up the rocker opposite the sofa. “There is yet more we need to discuss.”
Their talk, Anna recalled. He’d warned her they would be having a lengthy discussion; there was no time like the present.
“I am listening.”
“This is going to come out wrong,” the earl sighed, “but I think it’s time you gave up and married me.”
“ Gave up and married you?” Anna repeated in a choked whisper. This was one outcome she had not foreseen, and in its way, it was worse than any of the others. “Whatever do you mean?”
“If I marry you,” the earl went on in reasonable tones, “then the worst Stull can do is sue for breach of promise. As he was willing to pay for the privilege of marrying you, I am not sure there are even damages for him to claim. It is the only way, however, to prevent him or some successor in your brother’s schemes from marrying you in another trumped-up circumstance.”
