Grace Burrowes - The Heir

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 grinding, desolate ache that followed. Anna’s own losses and grief rose up and threatened to swamp her, even as the earl moved into the kitchen and eyed the tray on the counter.

His eyes shifted back up just in time for Anna to be caught wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“Come.” He took her hand and led her to the table, sitting her down, passing her his handkerchief, fetching the tray, then taking the place beside her, hip to hip.

They listened for long moments, the cool of the kitchen cocooning them both in the beauty and pain of the music, and then Val’s playing shifted again, still sad but with a piercingly sweet lift of acceptance and peace to it. Death, his music seemed to say, was not the end, not when there was love.

“Your brother is a genius.”

The earl leaned back to rest his shoulder blades along the wall behind them. “A genius who likely only plays like this late at night among whores and strangers. He’s still a little lost with it.” He slipped his fingers through Anna’s and gently closed his hand. “As, I suppose, am I.”

“It has been less than a year?”

“It has. Victor asked that we observe only six months of full mourning, but my mother is still grieving deeply. I should have offered Valentine a bunk months ago.”

“He probably would not have come,” Anna said, turning their hands over to study his brown knuckles. “I think your brother needs a certain amount of solitude.”

“In that, he and I and Devlin are all alike.”

“Devlin is your half brother?” Ducal bastards were apparently an accepted reality, at least in the Windham family.

“He is.” Westhaven nodded, giving her back her hand. “Tea or cider or lemonade?”

“Any will do,” Anna said, noting that Val’s music was lighter now, still tender but sweetly wistful, the grief nowhere evident.

“Lemonade, then.” The earl sugared his, added a spoonful to Anna’s, and set it down before her. “You might as well drink it here with me, and I’ll tell you of my illustrious family.” He sat again, but more than their hips touched this time, as his whole side lay along hers, and Anna felt heat and weariness in his long frame. One by one, the earl described his siblings, both deceased and extant, legitimate and not.

“You speak of each of them with such affection,” Anna said. “It isn’t always so with siblings.”

“If I credit my parents with one thing,” the earl said, running his finger around the rim of his glass, “it is with making our family a real family. They didn’t send us boys off to school until we were fourteen or so, and then just so we could meet our form before we went to university. We were frightfully well educated, too, so there was no feeling inadequate before our peers. We did things all together, though it took a parade of coaches to move us hither and thither, but Dev and Maggie often went with us, particularly in the summer.”

“They are received, then?”

“Everywhere. Her Grace made it obvious that a virile young lord’s premarital indiscretions were not to be censored, and the die was cast. It helps that Devlin is charming, handsome, and independently wealthy, and Maggie is as pretty and well mannered as her sisters.”

“That would tend to encourage a few doors to open.”

“And what of you, Anna Seaton?” The earl cocked his head to regard her. “You have a brother and a sister, and you had a grandpapa. Did you all get along?”

“We did not,” Anna said, rising and taking her glass to the sink. “My parents died when I was young. My brother grew up with a lack of parental supervision, though my grandfather tried to provide guidance. My parents, I’m told, loved each other sincerely. Grandpapa took us into his home immediately when they died, but as my brother is ten years my senior, he was considerably less malleable. There was a lot of shouting.”

“As there is between my father and me.” The earl smiled at her when she sat back down across from him.

“Your mother doesn’t shout at him, does she?”

“No.” The earl looked intrigued with that observation. “She just gets this pained, disappointed look and calls him Percival or Your Grace instead of Percy.”

“My grandfather had that look polished to a shine.” Anna grimaced. “It crushed me the few times I merited it.”

“So you were a good girl, Anna Seaton?” The earl was smiling at her with a particular light in his eyes, one Anna didn’t understand, though it wasn’t especially threatening.

“Headstrong, but yes, I was a good girl.” She rose again, and this time took his glass with her. “And I am.”

“Are you busy Tuesday next?” he asked, rising to lean against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he watched her rinse out their glasses.

“Not especially,” Anna replied. “We do our big market on Wednesday, which is also half-day for the men.”

“Then can I requisition your time, if it’s decent weather?”

“For?” She eyed him warily, unable to sense his mood.

“I have recently committed into another’s keeping a Windham property known as Monk’s Crossing,” he explained. “My father and I agree each of my sisters ought to be dowered with some modestly profitable, pleasant property, preferably close to London. Having transferred ownership of one, I am looking at procuring another. The girls socialized little this year, due to Victor’s death, but at least two of them have possibilities that might come to something in the next year. I’d like to have their dower properties in presentable condition.”

“So what are we doing, Tuesday next?” Anna asked, folding her arms across her chest.

“I am going to inspect a potential dower property out in Surrey, a couple hours from Town, and for sale at a suspiciously reasonable price. I would like you to accompany me to assess its appeal to feminine sensibilities.”

“Whatever does that mean?”

The earl pushed off the wall and waved a hand. “There are things about a house I just don’t take in, being male. You women understand subtleties, like where windows will give effective ventilation, what rooms will be cold in winter, or which fireplaces are unfortunately situated. You can assess the functionality of a kitchen at a glance, whereas I can barely find the bread box.”

He moved to stand before her, looking down at her. “I can assess if a property is priced properly in relation to its size, location, and appointments, but you can assess if a house can be made into a home.”

“I will go then.” Anna nodded. It was a task to which she was suited, and probably only a morning’s work. “But you must consider which sister will end up with this property and think about her, so you can tell me her likes and dislikes.”

“Fair enough. We can discuss those particulars on the way there.”

He left, moving in the direction of the music room, where Val was once again between pieces, or moods. Anna watched him go, unable to help but appreciate the lean play of muscle along his flanks.

One had to wonder how the ladies of polite society had ever managed, when all the Windham brothers had assembled in one place, particularly in evening finery or riding attire or shirt sleeves…

“THE ESTATE IS CALLED WILLOW BEND,” THE EARL began as they tooled out of the mews in the gray predawn light. “We should be there in less than two hours, even giving Pericles a few chances to rest.”

“Have you seen it before?” Anna asked, enjoying the breeze on her face as the horse gained the street and broke to the trot.

“I have seen only sketches, hence the necessity for this trip. I should warn you I am inclined to buy it based on proximity alone. There is only so much land for sale around London, and the city grows outward each year.”

The miles fell away as they talked, occasionally challenging each other, more often just sharing viewpoints and observations. When they were well out of town, the earl pulled up his gig to let the horse rest.

“Shall we walk? Pericles will stand there until Domesday or he eats every blade of grass at his feet.” The earl handed her down then released the checkrein so the horse could graze for a few minutes.

“He takes his victuals seriously,” Anna said.

“To any Windham male, victuals are of significant import.”

“Good thing I brought a very full hamper, then, isn’t it?” The earl offered her his arm, and she took it, realizing they had never in the months she’d worked for him simply walked side by side like this.

“It’s a lovely morning,” Anna said, taking refuge in the weather. “After all the noise and wind, I was expecting we would get at least some rain last night.”

“A few drops. Val sleeps on his balcony these days and said that’s all he felt.”