“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.”