The duchess patted Anna’s hand. “A good employer can still be a selfish, inconsiderate, clueless man, Mrs. Seaton. I love my sons, but they will wear their muddy boots in the public rooms, flirt with the maids, and argue with their father in view of the servants. They are, in short, human, and sometimes trying as a result.”

“It is no trial to work for Lord Westhaven,” Anna said. “He pays honest coin for an honest day’s wage and is both reasonable and kind.”

“Your Grace?” Westhaven smiled as he strolled from the mews. “What a pleasure to see you.” He bent to kiss his mother’s cheek and used the gesture to wink at Anna surreptitiously. “Have you been haranguing Mrs. Seaton about how to fold the linens?”

“I’ve been trying without success to grill her about whether you finish your pudding these days.” The duchess stood and took her son’s proffered arm. The earl smiled at Anna and winged his other elbow at her. “Mrs. Seaton?” Anna accepted the gallantry rather than make a fuss.

“I can see you are indeed faring well, Westhaven. You dropped too much weight this spring; gauntness did not become you.”

“My staff is taking good care of me. You will be pleased to know both Dev and Val are enjoying my hospitality, as well. They’ll be along shortly, but were arguing about a horse when I left the stables.”

“I heard no shouting,” the duchess remarked. “It cannot be a very serious argument.”

“Dev wants Val to take on some work with one of his horses. Val is demurring,” the earl explained. “Or letting Dev work for it. How are His Grace and my dear sisters?”

“The girls are glad to be at Morelands, with the heat being so oppressive. They might come back for Fairly’s ball, however.”

“About which you can regale us at breakfast,” Westhaven said. “You will join us. I won’t hear otherwise.”

“I would be delighted.” The duchess smiled at her son, a smile of such warmth and loving regard Anna had to look away. Westhaven’s expression mirrored his mother’s, and Anna knew the earl had no greater ally than Her Grace, at least in all matters that did not pit him against the duke.

“My lord, Your Grace.” Anna slipped her arm from the earl’s. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll notify the kitchen we have a guest.”

“Please don’t put them to any bother, Mrs. Seaton,” the duchess said. “The company of my sons is treat enough on any day.” The earl offered Anna a slight bow, and Anna knew the gesture wasn’t lost on his mother.

“She dotes on you,” the duchess commented when Anna had retreated.

“She dotes on all three of us. We have all the comforts a conscientious housekeeper can imagine for us, and then some. Do you know, she keeps marzipan in the pantry for me, chocolates for Val, and candied violets for Dev? We have flowers in every room, the linens are all scented with lavender or rosemary, the house stays cool even in this heat, and I cannot comprehend how she accomplishes this.”

Her Grace paused on the back steps. “She did all this before you’d brought your brothers to stay with you, didn’t she?”

“She did. I just notice it more now.”

“Grief can turn us inward,” the duchess said quietly. “I was concerned for you, Westhaven. I know His Grace left the finances in a muddle, but it seems as if cleaning up after your father was all you made time for this spring.”

“The finances are still not untangled, Your Grace. We were not faring very well when I was given the reins.”

“Are we in difficulties?” the duchess asked carefully.

“No, but we nearly would have been. In some ways, Victor’s mourning period saved us some very timely entertaining expenses. A house party at Morelands is nothing compared to one of your balls, Mother.”

“You call me Mother when you scold me, Westhaven, but this ball will be underwritten by Fairly and his in-laws, so you needn’t frown at me.”

“My apologies.” They turned at the sound of his brothers’ voices coming up the garden paths.

“What ho!” Dev called, grinning. “What light through yonder rose bush shines? Good morning, Your Grace.” He bowed low over her hand then stepped back as Val sidled in to kiss the duchess’s cheek.

“Mother.” Val smiled down at her. “You will join us for breakfast so these two mind their manners around their baby brother?”

“I will join you for breakfast to feast my eyes on the greatest display of young male pulchritude to be had in all of London.”

“She flatters,” Westhaven said, “before interrogating, no doubt.”

The duchess floated into the house, one hand tucked by Westhaven’s side, the other wrapped on Val’s arm. Dev watched them go, smiling at the tableau before turning back to the rose bushes along the far wall, where Anna was clipping a bouquet.

He propped a booted foot against the low stone wall bordering the bed. “How badly did she interrogate you?”

“Good morning, Colonel St. Just.” Anna bobbed a curtsy and put her shears into the wicker basket sitting on the wall. “The duchess was all that was gracious.” Unlike present company. “If you’ll excuse me?”

“I will not,” St. Just replied. He emphasized his response by putting a hand on Anna’s arm. She met his eyes, looked pointedly down at his hand, and back up at his face, arching a brow in question.

“You need not like me,” Anna said, “but you will respect me.”

“Or what, Anna Seaton?” He leaned in, giving Anna a hint of his aftershave, a minty scent with a blend of meadow flowers. Anna went still, knowing if she made a fuss, the earl would appear, likely with his mother at his side.

“You are not a bully, Colonel, whatever else may trouble you.”

He stepped back, frowning.

“You aggravate me, Mrs. Seaton,” he said at length. “I want to assure myself you are a scheming, selfish, vapid little tramp with airs above your station, but the assurance just won’t ring true.”

Anna flashed him a look of consternation. “Why on earth would you attempt to make such a nasty prejudgment? You yourself have no doubt been subject to just the same sort of close mindedness.”

“Now, see?” St. Just almost smiled. “That’s what I mean. You don’t bother to deny the labels, you just hand them back to me in a neat, tidy little package of subtle castigation. Perhaps I’m only wishing you were venal, so I might poach on my brother’s preserves with moral impunity.”

“You would not poach on your brother’s preserves,” Anna said, beginning to see how much of the man was a particularly well-aimed type of bluster. “You are not as wicked as you want the world to think, sir.”

“Happens”—he did smile—“I am not, but it also happens you are not just the simple, devoted housekeeper you would have the world think you are, either.”

“My past is my own business. Now have you business with me, Colonel, or are you being gratuitously unpleasant?”

“Business,” he said shortly. “You have rightly surmised I brood and paw and snort at times for show, Mrs. Seaton. It keeps His Grace from getting ideas, for one thing. But make no mistake on this point: I will defend my brother’s interests without exception or scruple. If I find you are playing him false in any sense or trifling with him, I will become your worst enemy.”

Anna smiled at him thinly. “Do you think he’d appreciate these threats you make to his housekeeper?”

“He might understand them,” St. Just said. “For the other message I have to convey to you is that to the extent you matter to my brother, you matter to me. If he decides he values you in his life, then I will also defend you without exception or scruple.”

“What is it you are saying?”

“You are a woman with troubles, Anna Seaton. You have no past anyone in this household knows of, you have no people you’ll admit to, you have the airs and graces of a well-born lady, but you labor for your bread instead. I’ve seen you conferring with Morgan, and I know you have something to hide.”

Anna raised her chin and speared him with a look. “Everybody has something to hide.”

“You have a choice, Anna,” St. Just said, her given name falling from his lips with surprising gentleness. “You either trust the earl to resolve your troubles, or you leave him in peace. He’s too good a man to be exploited by somebody under his own roof. He’s had that at the hands of his own father, and I won’t stand for it from you.”

Anna hefted her basket and flashed St. Just a cold smile. “Like the duke, you’ll wade in, bully and intimidate, and jump to conclusions regarding Westhaven’s life, telling yourself all the while you do it because you love him, when in fact, you haven’t the first notion how to really go about caring for the man. Very impressive—if one wants proof of your patrimony.”

She bobbed him a curtsy with fine irony and walked off, her skirts twitching with her irritation.

As he pasted the requisite smile on his face and went in to breakfast, St. Just reflected he hadn’t been wrong: Anna Seaton had secrets; she’d all but acknowledged it.

But his approach had been wrong. A woman who attached Westhaven’s interest was going to have backbone to spare. He should not have threatened; he should not have, to use her word, bullied. Well, that could be remedied just as soon as he got through breakfast with Her Grace.

“You are quiet,” the earl remarked as they tooled along toward Willow Bend.