“She clucked and fussed and carried on appropriately,” Anna said. “I am to make a speedy and uneventful recovery by ducal decree.”

“Your grandmother will be here late next week, you know, if all goes well.” Westhaven sat on the edge of her chaise, regarding her closely. “You don’t look so pale, I’m thinking.”

“I don’t feel so pale,” she assured him. “I’ve not taken the time to just sit in the sun for more than two years, Westhaven. It’s bad for one’s ladylike complexion, but in the North, we crave the sun.”

“Will you be going back there?”

Anna fingered the cuff of her sleeve. “I do not want to. I want to remember Rosecroft as it was in my grandfather’s day, not in the neglect and disrepair my brother allowed.”

“You don’t ask about him,” Westhaven said, taking her hand.

“I assume he is malingering.”

“He is not doing well. It’s to be expected.”

“And Stull?”

“Made bond. But seems content to await trial at the Pig. I did bring trespass charges, just for the hell of it, and assault and conspiracy to assault in your name, as well.”

“Will any of it stick?”

The earl smiled, and the expression had a lot of big, white, sharp teeth to it. “It’s a curious thing about assault, but it’s both a tort and a crime.”

“A tort?” Anna frowned.

“A civil wrong for which the law provides a remedy.” The earl quoted. “Like, oh, slander, libel, and the like.”

“You are saying I can sue him personally, not just bring criminal charges?”

“You already have,” the earl informed her. “On the advice of the duke, of course.”

“Why would I do such a thing, when lawsuits take forever to resolve, and all I want is to be shut of that man immediately?”

“Civil matters are often settled with money judgments, Anna, and while you might think you have sufficient capital, Morgan might not be of the same mind, nor your grandmother.”

“I see.” Anna pursed her lips. “I trust your judgment, Westhaven. Proceed as you see fit.”

“I will,” he said and brought her hand up sandwiched between both of his. “There’s something else we need to discuss, Anna.”

“There is?” She watched him matching their hands, finger for finger.

“Your grandmother will be scandalized to find you dwelling with three bachelors, and my mother has reminded me Morgan is worried about you.”

“Morgan just visited, and my grandmother will hardly be scandalized to find I’m alive and well.”

“Anna…” He met her gaze. “I’ve made arrangements for you to remove to the mansion the day after tomorrow, where you will complete your convalescence under my mother’s care.”

“Westhaven…” He rose abruptly, and Anna came to her feet more slowly. “Gayle? Is this what you want?”

He looked up at her use of his name, a sad smile breaking through his frown.

“It is what must be, Anna.” He kept his hands in his pockets. He did not reach for her. “You are a well-bred young lady, and I am a bachelor of some repute. If it becomes known you are under my roof without chaperonage, then your future will be bleak.”

More bleak, Anna wanted to rail, than when Stull and Helmsley were hounding me across England?

“I will miss you,” Anna said, turning her back to him, the better to hide her tears. God above, she’d turned into a watering pot since getting involved with the earl.

“I beg your pardon?” He’d stepped closer, close enough she could catch his scent.

“I will miss you,” Anna said, whirling and walking straight into him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and clung, while his arms gently closed around her. “I will miss you and miss you and miss you.”

“Oh, love.” He stroked the back of her head. “You mustn’t cry over this. You’ll manage, and so will I, and it’s for the best.” She nodded but made no move to pull away, and he held her as closely as her wounded shoulder would allow.

In the library, Val looked up from rummaging for a penknife and frowned at Dev.