While the viscount wrested permission to summon the doctor from the earl, Lady Amery conferred with the footman then turned to Anna.

“I’m sorry,” Lady Amery said, smiling. “You have me at a loss, Miss…?”

“Mrs. Seaton,” Anna replied, curtsying again. “Mrs. Anna Seaton. I keep house for his lordship in Town and accompanied him to Willow Bend, a property three miles east of here, which he thinks to purchase.”

“Pretty place,” Amery murmured, “but first things first.”

“The back bedroom will serve as a sick room and is being made up now,” Guinevere said. “You and the earl could both probably use hot baths and some sustenance, and I’m sure we can find you something dry to change into, as you and I appear to be of a height.”

“Come, Westhaven.” The viscount tugged the earl to his feet. “We’ll ply you with foul potions and mutter incantations by your bedside until you are recovered for the sake of your sanity. You should probably see Rose now, or she will just sneak into your room when you are feeling even worse and read her stories to you.”

It should have made him shudder, Westhaven thought as Amery tugged and carried and insulted him up to the bedroom. To be here with the man who had stopped his wedding to Gwen, and to be so ill and virtually helpless before him and Gwen. It should have been among his worst nightmares.

But as Douglas got him out of his wet clothes and shoved him into a steaming, scented bath, then fussed him into swilling some god-awful tea, Westhaven realized that what he felt was safe.

“He’ll want to notify his brother,” Anna said, sipping her hot tea with profound gratitude.