Anthony stared at the door and then slowly sank back in his chair. Good God, what force had he unleashed on Greyley House? It was true Thraxton had temporarily vanquished Lady Putney, and far more quickly than he’d hoped, but that she would dare assume she could correct him?

Worse was the realization that she had no intention of adhering to the schedule. And that simply could not be borne. He mulled over all the things he should and could say to her, yet none of them seemed forceful enough. Perhaps she’d follow written instructions better. Yes, that was a possibility. He pulled out a sheet of starched vellum and started to write a pithy note outlining Miss Thraxton’s duties, when he realized he was wasting his time.

Miss Thraxton was a woman who would appreciate only direct, face-to-face confrontation. He doubted she’d comprehend anything so subtle as a list of her duties, no matter how plainly written out.

A pounding on the steps told him that the children were now tramping down the stairs on their way to the stables. As their excited voices faded, he was assailed with the unmistakable sounds of peace and quiet.

Perhaps…perhaps she was right and there were benefits to allowing the children to ride more often. For one thing, it would keep them out of the house and away from Lady Putney’s odious presence. And perhaps, if Anthony was willing to concede this point, he could win some concessions in some other areas. He might even allow Thraxton to set her own schedule for her charges…

After a moment, he realized he was staring blankly into the air, his mind not mulling over his recalcitrant governess, but rather that damnable dimple that appeared in her cheek when she was trying not to grin.

“I’m wasting my time,” he muttered, picking up an imposing stack of correspondence. He flipped through it for some moments, though his mind kept returning to the image of Lady Putney’s face when the children chose to ride with their new governess rather than eat her candy and listen to her spew her poison.

He had to admit that Thraxton was already making a difference. Perhaps he had done the right thing in securing her services. Now all he had to do was keep her firmly under control and everything would work for the best. The children’s behavior would indeed improve and the world would know that being an Elliot did not necessarily mean one possessed the morals of an ill bred barn cat.

Of course, that was easier said than done. Anthony had spent most of his life since he’d turned seventeen managing the Elliots. He’d turned his back on the usual enjoyments favored by a young man of fashion, refusing the invitations from his school chums to prizefights and other delightfully vulgar amusements. He’d walked away from them all in order to bring the rancid ranks of Elliots to heel. And he’d succeeded, for the most part. But the cost had been high. He hadn’t had the time to pursue the usual entertainments.

Not that he’d been a monk, by any means. Over the years he’d warmed his bed with a number of liaisons, each carefully conducted with an eye toward society’s rather ridiculous rules. Anthony had been careful to end any affair where it appeared the woman in question was getting more attached than necessary, which happened far too often for his peace of mind. He’d followed the dictates of society and had escaped even a breath of scandal.

All in all, he’d been gifted with an exemplary life. Oh, he occasionally wondered what it would have been like if his youth had been spent on something more frivolous, and there were times when he looked at the charmed lives his half brothers lived and envied their carefree attitudes. But Anthony had more to prove than they. They had been born St. Johns, while he had only the borrowed mantle, one he was determined to earn. He would show the Elliots the error of their lives and prove to all the world that though he’d not been born a St. John, he’d learned the St. John lessons well.

Anthony pushed the stack of letters away and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. If he had one regret, it was that his stepfather hadn’t lived to see his successes. The Elliot fortune was reestablished and the family was no longer the social pariahs they had been. All Anthony needed to do now was to set his own household more firmly in the realms of respectability. And he was about to do that with his marriage.

For some reason, instead of Charlotte’s gentle mien, Anthony saw Anna Thraxton’s saucy smile. What was it about Thraxton that irritated him so? He didn’t know if she was the best governess in London, but she was certainly the most disrespectful. She had no concern for her conduct, other than to win her own stubborn way in every argument. It was maddening, to say the least. But Anthony was not about to let a slip of a governess disrupt his carefully ordered household.

Suddenly too restless to sit still, he rang for Jenkins and ordered a fresh mount brought up from the stables. He’d go and visit his intended. He hadn’t seen Charlotte or her parents since last week, when they’d left for a brief visit to London. That would take his mind off the intractable Miss Thraxton.

Within ten minutes, Anthony was riding down the lane. He told himself he was glad that he didn’t see his incorrigible governess or the children, though he caught himself looking for them even after he turned onto the main road where they would not have gone.

Twenty minutes passed before he reached his destination—a pleasant stone manor house that sat behind a line of trees. He dismounted and handed his reins to a waiting footman, then approached the front door. The air was just cooling with the approach of evening, and he admired the tasteful arrangement of the flowers that lined the front step. The door was opened by a round-faced butler, who immediately bowed him into a sitting room and left to announce his arrival.

He didn’t have to wait long. Moments later, he was joined by a slender, older woman dressed in the height of fashion in an elegant gray dress. Though her brown hair was shot through with silver, her smooth face seemed to belie this one sign of age. She smiled pleasantly at Anthony and held out her hand. “Lord Greyley. What a pleasant surprise.”

He took her hand and bowed. “Lady Melton. How do you do?”

“I’m a bit tired from our journey to London. We just returned last night. I’m afraid you just missed Sir Melton. He’s gone to visit the colonel.”

“I’m sorry I missed him. I hope you don’t mind my coming unannounced, but I was impatient to see how you progressed.”

She gave a quizzical lift of her brows. “More correctly, you were impatient to see Charlotte.”

He bowed again and she laughed. “I never thought to see you so impetuous. Charlotte will be down shortly. Will you have a seat?”

He took the chair she indicated, and a servant brought in a tea tray. For several moments they engaged in desultory small talk, though Greyley listened with only half an ear. His mind was far too occupied with thinking of ways to contain the overly inquisitive Miss Thraxton.

He’d lost ground today, allowing her to sweep the children off for a ride. Had Lady Putney not been present and so obviously wanting the children to herself, he would never have agreed. As soon as he had the opportunity, he would make certain that Miss Thraxton knew he, and not she, was the ultimate authority over the children and everything else at Greyley. He was certain she would disagree, but he was more than ready to deal with her this very moment and would, in fact, welcome the opportunity. A faint sense of surprise made him pause; he was looking forward to the upcoming confrontation.

Anthony wasn’t a man who normally welcomed disputes. He liked things and people to know their places and to stay within those confines. It had always been thus with him; everything in its place, and a place for everything. Since the day he’d stepped foot in Greyley House, he’d determined exactly how he’d wanted it to look. And he’d meticulously worked to make it all it should be. Yet still, the house lacked something. Something…intrinsic. He stared blankly into his cup of tea and wondered what it could be.

Lady Melton set down her cup. “Lord Greyley, I cannot help but feel that there is some other reason you’ve come.”

“There is,” he said. “Perhaps we should move up the wedding date.”

A moment of silence greeted this statement and he was uncertain who was more surprised, Lady Melton or him. What the hell am I thinking? As if in answer, a picture of Anna Thraxton flew to the fore, sending him that mischievous smile when she’d told Selena to ask him her impertinent question.

He frowned at the memory. Perhaps it was time for him to marry, especially if Thraxton was able to restore the nursery to some sort of calm. “Greyley House is in need of a mistress and Charlotte will soon be out of mourning. Perhaps we can marry then.”

“It would have to be a quiet ceremony,” Lady Melton said in her usual calm voice. “We’ll still be in half mourning for six more months.”

He shrugged. He really didn’t care how big of a wedding it was, as long as he wasn’t bothered with any of the details. And he could think of numerous reasons why it would benefit him to get the entire ordeal behind him.

The door opened and Charlotte entered. Anthony stood, eyeing her closely. She was as small as Thraxton was tall, soft and gently rounded. She had wide blue eyes and a wealth of blond curls that tumbled carefully over her tiny ears in the most refined way, quite the opposite of the wild auburn tresses that had shone in the soft light in the library just that afternoon.

Charlotte blushed on meeting his gaze and dipped a perfect curtsy. “Lord Greyley. How nice of you to visit.”

Anthony had met Charlotte when he’d assisted Sir Melton home after he’d fallen off his mount while hunting at Greyley. The two men had known each other for some time, but Anthony had never accepted any of Melton’s numerous invitations to visit his house until that day.

It had been the end of a particularly trying week, and he had been tired and worn from dealing with the Elliots. Charlotte had appeared like a beacon of light, her shy, perfectly mannered presence a welcome change after dealing with the brash, ill-mannered members of his family.

With the proper training, Anthony was certain she would make an outstanding countess. He took her hand and smiled down at her, noting how her head didn’t even reach his shoulder. “How was your visit to London?”

“Lovely,” she said in a soft, breathy voice. “I could have stayed forever.”

“But Charlotte was very glad to return home, weren’t you, dear?” her mother said.

“Oh, yes,” Charlotte said, blanching as if she’d committed a major solecism, her lip trembling.

Seeing how tense she was, Anthony asked her if she’d managed to go to Anstley’s Amphitheatre to see the animals. That did the trick, for she talked nonstop for several moments, practically glowing when she relayed her fright of the lions. Anthony smiled indulgently, though he scarcely paid attention. Anna Thraxton was wrong—his manners were impeccable. He knew exactly how to behave in company.

Charlotte continued to talk of the dazzling array of amusements in London until Lady Melton gently suggested that Charlotte should return to her room to rest.

She immediately stood and made her adieu, softly closing the door behind her.

Lady Melton took a sip of her tea. “I hope you will forgive Charlotte for chattering on so. The journey was quite fatiguing.”

“I hope she doesn’t develop too much fondness for London. I am rarely there, except to see to the affairs of my family.”

“Charlotte enjoys the sights, but her true love is the country,” Lady Melton said firmly.

Anthony nodded, the restlessness returning in full force. He felt…dissatisfied for some reason. Before, he’d always thought Charlotte’s innocence engaging. Now a slight nagging feeling persisted, as if he hadn’t considered some important fact. “Lady Melton, perhaps you could suggest some reading for Charlotte—something to broaden her mind.”

Lady Melton set down her cup, a flicker of a frown in her brown eyes. “Of course. Perhaps some Shakespeare?”

“Perhaps.” That wasn’t exactly what he’d meant, but it was a start. He spoke with Lady Melton some moments longer, then took his leave. Usually when he rode away from the Melton residence, he felt at peace, certain in his future and his destiny. Today, however, all he could think of was Charlotte’s excitement about the lions at the amphitheater and Anna Thraxton’s deep chuckle when she’d tried to embarrass him in front of his wards.

At home, he was changing out of his riding coat when the sound of voices drifted up to his window. He pulled aside the curtain and looked down to see his wards and their new governess dismounting from their horses. Apparently the spirited mare had met with Miss Thraxton’s approval. After dismounting, she lingered by its side and patted it with obvious fondness, saying something to Elizabeth that caused the child to nod and try to stroke the horse’s velvet nose.

The horse lifted its head playfully, pulling away from the child, then just as quickly dipping her head to beg for another pat. Elizabeth laughed, a loud, childish laugh that made Anthony pause.

The children had been with him for several months now, yet how often had he heard them laugh? Rarely, if ever. And never while under the care of one of their governesses.

Anthony wondered if he was, in some way, to blame for this. He wasn’t a jovial, falsely laughing sort of man. He had responsibilities and little time for frivolous pursuits. Still…He watched as Selena giggled at something Thraxton had just said and suddenly a thought hit him. Perhaps in his zeal to correct the children’s behavior, he had overlooked certain things. Like the need for warmth, laughter, friendship…all the things that had made his relationship with his brothers and sister so worthwhile.

The thought sat heavily on his shoulders for several minutes. He would just have to do better, damn it. Perhaps now that Miss Thraxton was here, things would change all around. For the better or the worse, he wasn’t sure. But whatever the outcome, he was reasonably certain he would not be bored. Not in the least.