“Where is he?” she hissed.
“Westhaven?” St. Just took a step back but kept his hands on her upper arms. “Is there something I can help you with?” His gaze traveled over her warily, no doubt taking in the absence of a cap and the utter determination in her eyes.
“You?” Anna loaded the word with incredulity and scorn. “With your strutting and sneering and threats? You’ve helped more than enough. Where is he? ”
“The library.” He dropped his hands, and stepped back as Anna stormed away.
“She upset with you?” Val asked as he sauntered out of the kitchen, cookies in hand.
“I did not get off on the proper foot with her, which is my fault,” Dev said, “but it’s Westhaven who had better start praying.”
“Front-row seats, eh?” Val handed him a cookie, and they stole up the stairs in Anna’s wake.
“A moment of your time, my lord.” Anna kept her voice steady, but her eyes were a different matter. One glance, and the earl knew a storm was brewing.
He rose from his desk. “Tolliver, if you would excuse us?” Taking in Anna’s appearance, Tolliver departed with only a brief sympathetic glance at the earl.
“Won’t you have a seat?” the earl offered, his tones cordial as he went to close and lock the door.
“I most assuredly will not have a seat,” Anna spat back, “and you can unlock that door, Gayle Tristan Montmorency Windham.”
An odd thrill went through him at the sound of his name on her lips, one that made it difficult to appropriately marshal his negotiating face. He had the presence of mind to keep the door locked, however, and instead turned to assess her.
She was toweringly, beautifully, stunningly angry. Enraged, and with him.
“What have I done to offend?”
“You…” Anna advanced on him, a piece of paper fisted in her hand. “You are having me investigated. And thanks to you, my lord, what might have been a well-planned move to a comparable position will now be a headlong and poorly thought out flight. I cannot believe you would do this to me, behind my back, without saying a word to me.”
“What does your letter say?” the earl asked, puzzled. Yes, he wanted to have her investigated but had yet to identify a sufficiently discreet means of doing so.
“It says there is a man asking questions about me back home.” Anna waved the letter, keeping her voice low. “And he was followed south when he returned to Town.”
“He was not employed by me,” the earl said simply, still frowning in thought. “Though I am fairly certain I know who did retain him.”
“You did not do this?” Anna asked, spine stiff.
“I am in the process of trying to identify means appropriate to assist you. I am aware, however, your circumstances involve confidences and have thus been unwilling to proceed until utmost discretion can be assured.”
He watched the emotions storm through her eyes: Rage that he would admit to wanting to investigate her, shock that he would be honest, and finally, relief, that his better sense had prevailed.
“His Grace,” Anna said, the fight going out of her suddenly. “Your thrice damned, interfering ass of a father, abetted by the toad.”
“I will dismiss Stenson before sunset,” Westhaven assured her. “I will confront my father, as well. Just one request, Anna.”
She met his gaze squarely, still upset but apparently willing to shift the focus of her rage.
“Be here when I return,” he said, holding her gaze. She huffed out a breath, nodded once, and dropped her eyes.
“Be here.” He walked up to her and put his arms around her. She went willingly, to his relief, and held on to him tightly. “Do not pack, do not warn Morgan, do not pawn the silver, do not panic. Be here and try, just try, to find some ability to trust me.”
When he was sure she’d calmed down, Westhaven whipped open the library door to find both his brothers lounging against the wall, munching cookies.
“You lot, look after Anna and Morgan. Don’t hold the meals for me.” He stalked off, bellowing for Pericles, leaving Anna standing shakily between Dev and Val.
“You are no fun,” Dev said, passing Anna a cookie. “We couldn’t hear a thing, and we were sure you were going to tear a strip off the earl. Nobody tears a strip off Westhaven, not Her Grace, not His Grace, not even Pericles.”
“Rose could,” Val speculated, handing his drink to Anna. “Come along.” He put an arm around Anna’s shoulders. “We’ll teach you how to cheat at cribbage, and you can tell us what we missed.”
“I already know how to cheat at cribbage,” Anna said dumbly, staring at the drink and cookie in her hands.
“Teach that in housekeeper school now, do they?” Dev closed the library door behind them. “Well, then we’ll teach you some naughty rugby songs instead. She’s going to cry, Val. Best get your hankie at the ready.”
“I am not going to cry,” Anna said, shoulders stiff. But then she took a funny gulpy breath and two monogrammed handkerchiefs were thrust in her direction. She turned her face into Val’s muscular shoulder and bawled while Dev rescued the drink and cookies.
“Mother.” Westhaven bowed over Her Grace’s hand. “I should have listened to you more closely.”
“A mother delights in hearing those sentiments from her children, regardless of the provocation,” Her Grace responded, “though I am at a loss to divine your reference.”
“You tried to tell me at breakfast the other week.” Westhaven ran a hand through his hair. “His Grace is off on another wild start, isn’t he?”
“Frequently,” the duchess said. “But I wasn’t warning you of anything in particular, just the need to exercise discretion with your staff and your personal activities.”
“My housekeeper, you mean.” Westhaven arched an eyebrow at her. “Somehow, the old bastard got wind of Anna Seaton and set his dogs on her.”
“Westhaven.” The duchess’s regard turned chilly. “You will not refer to your father in such terms.”
“Right.” Westhaven shuttered his expression. “That would insult my half brother, who is an honorable man.”
“Westhaven!” The duchess’s expression grew alarmed rather than insulted.
“Forgive me, Mother.” He bowed. “My argument is with my father.”
“Well,” the duke announced himself and paused for dramatic effect in the doorway of the private parlor. “No need to look further. You can have at me now.”
“You are having Anna Seaton investigated,” the earl said, “and it could well cost her her safety.”
“Then marry her,” the duke shot back. “A husband can protect a wife, particularly if he’s wealthy, titled, smart, and well connected. Your mother has assured me she does not object to the match.”
“You don’t deny this? Do you have any idea the damage you do with your dirty tricks, sly maneuvers, and stupid manipulations? That woman is terrified, nigh paralyzed with fear for herself and her younger relation, and you go stomping about in her life as if you are God Almighty come to earth for the purpose of directing everybody else’s personal life.”
The duke paced into the room, color rising in his face.
“That is mighty brave talk for a man who can’t see fit to take a damned wife after almost ten years of looking. What in God’s name is wrong with you, Westhaven? I know you cater to women, and I know you are carrying on with this Seaton woman. She’s comely, convenient, and of child-bearing age. I should have thought to have her investigated, I tell you, so I might find some way to coerce her to the altar.”