She nodded, her face pale, her eyes closed. He folded the cloth over her shoulder and pressed, gently at first but then more firmly. She winced but said nothing, so he held the pressure steady until the cloth was soaked then added a second cloth on top of the first.

“Have we carbolic and basilicum?” the earl asked.

“We do,” Nanny Fran replied. “And brandy by the bottle.” She held her silence for long tense moments before peering over Westhaven’s shoulder again. “Ain’t bleeding so much,” she observed with grudging approval. “Best take a look.”

“Not yet,” the earl said, “not until the bleeding stops. Time enough to clean her up later.”

By the time the physician arrived—Dr. Garner—Anna’s wound was no longer bleeding, and her shoulder had been gently cleaned up but no dressing applied.

“Capital job,” the physician pronounced. “It’s a deep graze, right over the top of the shoulder. Few inches off, and it would have been in the neck or the lung. Looks as if the powder’s been cleaned adequately. You’re a lucky girl, Miss James, but you are going to have to behave for a while.”

He put a tidy dressing on the wound and urged rest and red meat for the loss of blood. He prescribed quiet and sparing laudanum if the pain became too difficult. He also pulled the earl aside and lectured sternly about the risk of infection. The doctor’s demeanor eased a great deal when the earl described the initial attention given the patient.

“Well done.” The doctor nodded. “Fairly will be proud of you, but your patient isn’t out of the woods yet. She needs peace and quiet, and not just for the wound. Violent injury takes a toll on the spirit, and even the bravest among us take time to recover.”

“And if she’s breeding?” the earl asked quietly.

“Hard to say.” The physician blew out a slow breath. “She’s young and quite sturdy, generally. Not very far along and strikes me as the sensible sort. If I had to lay odds, I’d say the child is unaffected, but procreation is in hands far greater than ours, my lord. All you can do is wait and pray.”

“My thanks.” Westhaven ushered the doctor to the front door. “And my thanks, as well, for your efforts with my father. I know he hasn’t been an easy patient.”

“The old lords seldom are.” The doctor smiled. “Too used to having their way and too concerned with their dignity.”

“I’ll try to remember that”—the earl returned the smile—“should I ever be an old lord.”

When the doctor was on his way, Stull and Helmsley had been taken into custody, and the household settling down, the earl was surprised to see evening was approaching. He made his way to Anna’s sitting room and the small bedroom beyond it.

“I’ll sit with her, Nanny,” the earl said, helping the older woman to her feet. “Go have a cup of tea; get some fresh air.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Nanny bustled along. “Cuppa tea’s just the thing to settle a body’s nerves.”

Westhaven frowned at his patient where she reclined on her pillows. “I hate that you’re hurt.”

“I’m none too pleased about what happened either,” Anna said. “But what, exactly, did happen?”

“Your brother attempted to abduct you,” the earl said, taking the seat Nanny had vacated. “St. Just deterred him by means of a bullet, but the gun your brother had trained on you discharged, as well.”

“You mean my brother shot me?”

“He did. I cannot say it was intentional.”

“How is he faring?” Anna asked, dropping his gaze.

“He’s gut shot, Anna,” the earl said gently. “We sent him Dr. Hamilton, whom I believe to be competent, but his prognosis is guarded, at best.”

“He’s wounded and in jail?” Anna said, her voice catching.

“He’s enjoying the hospitality of the Crown at a very pleasant little house St. Just owns, with professional nursing care in addition to armed guards. He is a peer, Anna, and will be cared for accordingly.”

It was more than Helmsley deserved.

“Anna.” The earl’s hand traced her hairline gently. “Let me do this.”

She met his gaze and frowned, but he wasn’t finished. “Let me put matters to rights for you. I will take care of your brother and see to final arrangements if any need be made. If you like, I will notify your grandmother and have her escorted south. We can do this in the ducal traveling coach, in easy stages, I promise.”

“Do it, please,” Anna said, wiping at her eyes with her left hand. “My thanks.”

“Anna.” Westhaven shifted to sit at her left hip and leaned down over her. He carefully cradled her cheek with his left hand and tucked her face against his neck. “It’s all right to cry, sweetheart.”

She wiggled her left arm out from between them and circled his neck, pulling him close, and then turned her face into his warmth and wept. Unable to move much beyond that, her tears streamed from her eyes into her hair and onto the earl’s cheek. He held her and stroked her wet cheeks with his thumb, letting her cry until his own chest began to ache for her.

Westhaven levered up enough to meet her gaze. “You must allow me to manage what I can for you now. All I want is to see you healed, the sooner the better.”

“For now, have you a handkerchief, perhaps?”

“I do.” He produced the requisite handkerchief and wiped at her cheeks himself before tucking it into her left hand. “And I am willing to read you Caesar, beat you at cribbage, discuss interior decoration with you, or speed your recovery by any means you please.”

“I am to be served my own medicine,” Anna said ruefully.

“Or perhaps you’d like to be served something to eat? Maybe just some toast with a little butter or jam, or some soup?”

“Toast and butter, and some cold tea.”

“It will be my pleasure.” The earl rose and left her. And Anna felt his absence keenly. Nanny Fran was dear, but she muttered and fussed and did very little to actually ensure the patient was comfortable. The earl returned, bearing a tray with cold tea, buttered toast, a single piece of marzipan, and a daisy in a bud vase.

“You brought me a flower.” Anna smiled, the first genuine smile she’d felt in ages.

“I have been trained by an expert.” The earl smiled back. He stayed with her while she ate then beat her at cribbage. When night fell, he asked Val to play for her, the slow, sweet lullabies that would induce a healing sleep. When she woke in the night, he got her to the chamber pot and back into bed and held her left hand until she drifted off. Nanny Fran shooed him out the next morning, but by early afternoon he was back.

When Dr. Garner reappeared to check the wound, the earl stayed in the room, learning how to replace the dressing and how to identify the signs of proper healing. For three more days, he was by her side, until Anna was pronounced well enough to sit in the gardens and move about a little under her own power.

On the fifth day, the duchess came to call with Morgan. While Anna and Morgan chatted volubly in the back gardens, the duchess took her son aside and pointed out some difficult truths.

Anna was the acknowledged granddaughter of an earl, and the danger of infection was diminishing with each day.

Morgan missed her sister.

The earl’s offers of marriage had been rejected not once but several times.

The earl was running a bachelor establishment, not just for himself but for his two equally unmarried brothers.

Something was going to have to be done, the duchess concluded, her preferred something obvious to her son.

“Give me a couple more days,” the earl reasoned. “Anna is still uncomfortable, and even a short carriage ride will be difficult for her.”

“I can understand that,” the duchess said, “and she deserves some notice of a change of abode, but, Westhaven, what will she do now?”

“We’ve discussed it, we’ll discuss it some more. Plan on receiving her the day after tomorrow before tea time.”

“Morgan will be very pleased.” The duchess rose. “You are doing the right thing.” The earl nodded, knowing his mother spoke the truth. It was time to let Anna get on with her life and to stop hoarding up memories of her for his own pleasure.

Her convalescence had been pleasant. They’d spent hours together, mostly talking, sometimes reading. The earl worked on his correspondence while Anna slept or while she dozed in the shade of the gardens. They talked about the Rosecroft estate up in Yorkshire and the effect of her brother’s lack of heirs; they talked of Morelands and how pretty it was. He apprised her of the rebuilding of the stables at Willow Bend and brought her correspondence from the Marchioness of Heathgate and Gwen Allen, wishing her a speedy recovery.

When those good wishes made her cry, he lent her his handkerchief and his sturdy shoulder and brought her bouquets to cheer her up, and still, they did not talk about what mattered.

“Has my mother put you to rights?” the earl asked. He looked handsome to Anna, in shirtsleeves and waistcoat, his cuffs turned back as he wandered onto the back terrace where she was enjoying the sunshine on a chaise.