long legs at the ankle.
“Bad enough. Wanted to chat about the scene at Fairly’s but left yelling about grandchildren and disrespect.”
“Sounds about like your usual with him,” Val said as John Footman brought out a second tray, this one bearing something closer to breakfast.
“Mrs. S said to tell you this one is sweetened, my lord.” John set one glass before the earl. “And this one, less so,” he said as he placed the other before Val.
“I think she puts mint in it,” Val said after a long swallow.
“Mrs. Seaton?” the earl asked, sipping at his own drink. “Probably. She delights in all matters domestic.”
“And she did not appear to be delighting in you, when she was out here earlier.”
“Valentine.” The earl stared hard at his brother. “Were you spying on me?”
Val pointed straight up, to where the balcony of his bedroom overlooked the terrace. “I sleep on that balcony most nights,” he explained, “and you were not whispering. I, however, was sleeping and caught the tail end of an interesting exchange.”
The earl had the grace to study his drink at some silent length.
“Well?” He met his younger brother’s eyes, awaiting castigation.
“She is a decent woman, Westhaven, and if you trifle with her, she won’t be decent any longer, everagain. What is a fleeting pleasure for you changes her life irrevocably, and you can never, ever change it back. I am not sure you want that on your appallingly overactive conscience, as much as I applaud your improvement in taste.”
The earl swirled his drink and realized with a sinking feeling Val had gotten his graceful, talented hands on a truth.
“Maybe,” Val went on, “you should just marry the woman, hmm? You get on with her, you respect her, and if you marry her, she becomes a duchess. She could do worse, and it would appease Their Graces.”
“She would not like the duchess part.”
“You could make it worth her while,” Val said, his tone full of studied nonchalance.
“Listen to you. You would encourage me into the arms of a pox-ridden gin whore if it would result in His Grace getting a few grandsons.”
“No, I would not, or you wouldn’t have gotten that little postscript from me regarding Elise’s summer recreation, would you?”
The earl rose and regarded his brother. “You are a pestilential irritant of biblical proportions. If I do not turn out to be an exact replica of His Grace, it will be in part due to your aggravating influence.”
Val was grinning around a mouthful of muffin, but he nonetheless managed to reply intelligibly to his brother’s retreating back. “Love you, too.”
Anna wasn’t fooled. Since their confrontation over the lunch table earlier in the week, the earl had kepta distance, but it was a thoughtful distance. She’d caught him eyeing her as she watered the bouquets in his library, or rising to his feet when she entered a room. It was unnerving, like being stalked by a hungry tiger.
And as the week wore on, the heat became worse, with violent displays of lightning and thunder at night but no cooling rains to bring relief. The entire household was drinking cold tea, lemonade, and cold cider by the gallon, and livery was worn only at the front door. Everybody’s cuffs were turned back, collars were loosened, and petticoats were discarded.
Anna heard the front door slam and knew the earl had returned after a long afternoon in the City, transacting business of some sort. She assembled a tray and waited to hear which door above would slam next. She had to cock her head, because Valentine was playing his pianoforte. The music wasn’t loud, but rather dense with feeling, and not happy feeling at that.
“He misses our brothers,” the earl said from the kitchen doorway. “More than I realized, as, perhaps, do I.”
The music shifted and became dark, despairing, all the more convincingly so for being quiet. This wasn’t the passionate, bewildered grief of first loss; it was the
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