Page 124 of The Heir
“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 sendme, 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?”
