“Not so,” the earl said. “He is much in demand as an escort and considered very good company by many.”

The duke heaved a martyr’s sigh. “Your brother is a mincing fop, but word is you at least had him in hand at Fairly’s whorehouse. Have to ask, how you’d do it?”

Now that was rare, for the duke to ask a question to which he sought an answer. Westhaven considered his reply carefully.

“I had heard Fairly has an excellent new Broadwood on the premises, which, in fact, he does.” A truth, as far as it went.

“So all I have to do,” the duke said with sudden inspiration, “is find some well-bred filly of a musical nature, and we can get him leg-shackled?”

“It might be worth considering, but I’d be subtle about it, ask him to escort Her Grace to musicales, for example. He won’t come to the bridle if he sees your hand in things.”

“Damned stubborn,” His Grace pronounced. “Just like his mama. A bit more to wet the whistle, if you please.” Westhaven brought the decanter to where his father sat on the leather couch, and poured half a measure into the glass. On closer inspection, the heat was taking a toll on His Grace. His ruddy complexion looked more florid than usual, and his breathing seemed a trifle labored.

“Speaking of stubbornness,” the earl said when he’d put the decanter back on the sideboard, “I no longer have an association with the fair Elise.”

“What?” His Grace frowned. “You’ve lost your taste for the little blonde?”

“I wouldn’t say I’ve lost my taste for the little blonde, so much as I’ve never had a taste for my privacy being invaded nor fancied the Moreland title going to somebody who lacks a drop of Windham blood.”

“What are you blathering on about, Westhaven? I rather liked your Elise. Seemed a practical woman, if you know what I mean.”

“Meaning she took your bribe, or your dare,” the earl concluded. “Then she turned around and offered her favors elsewhere, to at least one other tall, green-eyed lordling that I know of, and perhaps several others, as well.”

“She’s a bit of a strumpet, Westhaven, though passably discreet. What would you expect?” The duke finished his drink with a satisfied smack of his lips.

“She’s Renfrew’s intended, if your baiting inspired her to get with child, Your Grace,” the earl replied. “You put her up to trying to get a child, and the only way she could do that was to pass somebody else’s off as mine.”

“Good God, Westhaven.” The duke rose, looking pained. “You aren’t telling me you can’t bed a damned woman, are you?”

“Were that the case, I would not tell you, as such matters are supposed to be private. What I am telling you is if you attempt to manipulate one more woman into my bed, I will not marry. Back off, Your Grace, or you will wish you had.”

“Are you threatening your own father, Westhaven?” The duke thumped his glass down, hard.

“I am assuring him,” the earl replied softly, “if he attempts even once more to violate my privacy, I will make him regret it for all of his remaining days.”

“Violate your…? Oh, for the love of God, boy.” The duke turned to go, hand on the door latch. “I did not come here to argue with you, for once. I came to tell you it was well done, getting your brother to Fairly’s, reminding him what… Never mind. I came with only good intentions, and here you are threatening me. What would your dear mama think of such disrespect? Of course I am concerned; you are past thirty, and you have neither bride nor heir nor promise thereof. You think you can live forever, but you and your brother are proof that even when a man has decades to raise up his sons, sometimes the task is yet incomplete and badly done. You aren’t without sense, Westhaven, and you at least show some regard for the Moreland consequence. All I want is to see the succession secured before I die, and to see your mother has some grandchildren to spoil and love. Good day.”

He made a grand, door-slamming exit and left his son eyeing the decanter longingly. When a soft knock came a few minutes later, the earl was still so lost in thought, he barely heard it.

“Come in.”

“My lord?” Mrs. Seaton, looking prim, cool, and tidy, strode into the room and gave him her signature brisk curtsy. “The luncheon hour approaches. Shall we serve you on the terrace, in the dining parlor, or would you like a tray in here?”

“I seem to have lost my appetite, Mrs. Seaton.” The earl rose from his desk and walked around to sit on the front of it. “His Grace came to call, and our visit degenerated into its usual haranguing and shouting.”

“One could hear this,” Mrs. Seaton said, her expression sympathetic. “At least on His Grace’s part.”

“I was congratulated on dragging my little brother to a brothel, for God’s sake. The old man would have fit in wonderfully in days of yore, when bride and groom were expected to bed each other before cheering onlookers.”

“My lord, His Grace means well.”

“He will tell you he does,” the earl agreed. “Just being a conscientious steward of the Moreland succession. But in truth, it’s his own consequence he wants to protect. If I fail to reproduce to his satisfaction, then he will be embarrassed, plain and simple. It’s not enough that he sired five sons, three of whom still live, but he must see a dynasty at his feet before he departs this earth.”

Mrs. Seaton remained quiet, and the earl recalled he’d sung this lament in her hearing before.

“Is my brother asleep?”

“He is, but he asked to be awakened not later than two of the clock. He wants to put in his four hours before repairing again to Viscount Fairly’s establishment.”

“I do believe my brother is studying to become a madam.”

Again, his housekeeper did not see fit to make any reply.

“I’ll take a tray out back,” the earl said, “but you needn’t go to all the usual bother… setting the table, arranging the flowers, and so forth. A tray will do, as long as there’s plenty of sweetened lemonade to go with the meal.”

“Of course, my lord.” She bobbed her curtsy, but he snaked out a hand to encircle her wrist before she could go.

“Are you unhappy with me?” he asked, eyeing her closely. “Bad enough His Grace finds fault with me at every turn, Mrs. Seaton. I am trying very hard not to annoy my staff as much as my father annoys me.”

“I do not think on your worst day you could be half so annoying to us as that man is to you. Your patience with him is admired.”

“By whom?”

“Your staff,” she replied. “And your housekeeper.”

“The admiration of my housekeeper,” the earl said, “is a consummation devoutly to be wished.”

He brought her wrist to his lips and kissed the soft skin below the base of her thumb, lingering long enough that he felt the steady beat of her pulse.

She scowled at him, whirled, and left without a curtsy.

So much, the earl thought as he watched her retreat, for the admiration of his housekeeper.

“I NEVER DID ASK IF YOU SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED your errands this morning.” Westhaven put aside his copy of The Times as Anna set his lunch tray before him.

“I did. Will there be anything else, my lord?”

He regarded her standing with her hands folded, her expression neutral amid the flowers and walks of his back garden.

“Anna,” he began, but he saw his use of her name made her bristle. “Please sit, and I do mean will you please.”

She sat, perched like an errant schoolgirl on the very edge of her chair, back straight, eyes front.

“You are scolding me without saying a word,” the earl said on a sigh. “It was just a kiss, Anna, and I had the impression you rather enjoyed it, too.”

She looked down, while a blush crept up the side of her neck.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” he said with sudden, happy insight. “You could accept my apology and treat me with cheerful condescension, but you enjoyed our kiss.”