Mr. Dalmapple stifled a sigh. For the past half hour, he’d attempted to engage the earl in a meaningful conversation on the possibility of building some new tenants’ cottages. Normally the earl would have joined in with enthusiasm; he was a man who took his responsibilities to heart. But this time, he was so distracted that all he did was give faint, monosyllabic answers and stare out the window.

Dalmapple supposed he understood; the earl’s wards were enough to drive any man to distraction. Or drink, for that matter. Dalmapple gave a tiny shudder, glad he was both unmarried and childless. He doubted Lord Greyley was aware of the antics that had been going on between the earl’s wards and the new governess, though the entire staff was abuzz. Abuzz and delighted—they had all been made to suffer for the children’s high spirits, and it was somewhat satisfying seeing them get a little of their own.

He wondered if he should say something to the earl, but then decided against it. Let Miss Thraxton continue her war without bothering the poor earl. She seemed more than capable of handling Greyley’s hellions.

A knock on the door preceded the footman. He crossed to the desk and held out a silver salver. “A note, my lord. From Miss Thraxton in the nursery.”

The earl swooped up the note, and Dalmapple watched his expression. The poor man was obviously tied in knots over the whole affair.

“Damn.” Greyley tossed the note onto his desk. He cast a dark glance at the footman. “Did you tell her that I wished to speak with her today?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And what did she say?”

The footman colored slightly. “I don’t believe I heard—”

“What did she say?” the earl repeated.

“She said she had better things to do than make up a schedule and that if you wanted one so badly—” The footman swallowed.

The earl was clearly stunned. After a brief moment he said, “I see. That will be all.”

The footman bowed, then left, his footsteps muffled by the heavy rug. Dalmapple waited until the door had closed before he delicately cleared his throat. “Is there anything I can do, my lord?”

The earl shook his head. “No. I will handle this matter myself.” He stood and smoothed his coat in an uncharacteristic manner.

Dalmapple frowned, noticing for the first time that the earl was wearing an intricately tied cravat. It was quite unlike Lord Greyley to bother with such, especially when here in the country. “Do you wish me to complete the estimates for the new cottages?”

“What? Oh, the estimates. Of course.”

The man was clearly distraught. “My lord, I hope you will forgive me, but ah, are the children well?”

“Yes, of course they’re well.”

“And the new governess? Is she turning out as you expected?”

This time Dalmapple had the earl’s entire attention. “No,” Greyley said with a thoughtful frown. “She’s nothing like I expected at all.”

The poor, poor earl. Dalmapple gave a quick prayer of thanks for his canary, two dogs, and three cats. None of them talked back. And only one had what one could call a mischievous disposition. He gathered his papers and stood. “Shall we meet at a later time?”

The earl nodded, his mind obviously already a thousand miles away. Sighing sadly, Dalmapple tucked his papers into his satchel and left.

“What is it today?” Grandpapa asked, peering around Anna’s bedchamber. “More rocks beneath your mattress? Or did they spread cookie crumbles in your sheets in hopes of drawing ants?”

It had been three days since Anna had found the lizard, and Desford hadn’t budged an inch. If anything, every day he seemed a little more fractious. But that was to be expected. He couldn’t like someone besting him at his own game.

She tightened the tie on her wrapper and gave the room a perplexed frown. “I haven’t been able to find anything.”

“Perhaps you’ve worn them down.” Grandpapa chuckled. “I wish you’d seen Master Desford’s face when he bit into his morning toast and found that you’d salted it.”

“I daresay it wasn’t near as humorous as his expression when he went to put his hand into his saddlebag to get his lunch on our ride yesterday and instead pulled out a neatly wrapped block of wood slathered with molasses. None of the other children would let him have their food and so he came home hungry.”

“And angry, I’d wager.”

“Yes. I had hoped that would have done the trick, for he’s bound to get tired of this foolishness some time or another.”

Grandpapa sighed. “Well, I’ll leave you to dress. I’m going for a walk. The gardens are lovely in the morning.” He crossed to the door, then halted. “Shall I look under your bed for you?”

“I’ve already looked. Perhaps you’re right and Desford is finished.” She smiled. “It won’t last, but it should put us on an even playing ground, and that is what is most important.”

Grandpapa grinned. “If you find yourself stuck to the bedpost or some such thing, just yell out the window and I’ll return to assist you.”

“Thank you,” she said dryly. “You’re too kind.”

He winked and then left, closing the door behind him. Anna took one last look around, checking under table edges and peering into the wardrobe. Finally, satisfied that everything was as it should be she began to dress. She was just thrusting her foot into her pantaloons when she realized what trick had been played. Someone had sewn the legs of the garment completely shut.

There she was, balancing on one leg, her foot halfway in, but unable to go any further. She tried to pull her foot out, but the garment tangled about her ankle and she lost her balance. She hopped wildly, trying to regain her footing, but it was impossible. Within moments, she tumbled to the ground, right onto her rump, her left elbow catching the edge of the dresser.

Afterward she lay staring at the ceiling, her pantaloons wrapped about one foot, waiting for the ache in her behind to subside. That was it. Today was the end of this little war. Anna peeled the pantaloons off her foot and climbed to her feet. She’d best hurry if she wanted to get to the nursery before the children.

Anna was sitting in the chair by the fireplace when Lily brought the children in. They peeked at her, giggling as they did so. Desford had apparently shared his little trick, for they were all grinning from ear to ear.

Anna refused to admit that anything was wrong. She greeted them gaily, asked about their breakfast, and settled them down to work. They kept exchanging glances and she could see that they were wondering what had gone awry.

She kept them busy for the next hour working on a variety of things when she turned around to find Greyley standing in the doorway. Her heart gave a strange leap. “Lord Greyley. What a pleasant surprise.” Why did he have to appear now, of all times?

“Miss Thraxton,” he returned, his jaw tight. “I sent a note this morning asking to meet with you.”

“So you did. But I’m very busy right now,” she said, glancing at the children. “Perhaps another time.”

Anthony noticed that she seemed uncharacteristically restless. He frowned. “It has been three days. You, Miss Thraxton, owe me a schedule.”

“Of course. You’ll get one as soon as I have it ready.” She walked toward the door as if anxious to get him to leave. “Thank you for coming, but the children and I are very busy today.”

Anthony pulled to a halt. She was far too anxious to get him to leave. “I think I will stay for a while. Just to see how things are progressing.” He found the largest chair the nursery offered and seated himself. He then crossed his arms and leaned back with the air of a man settled for the duration.

Thraxton did not look pleased to have him there. For several minutes she looked as if she might say something, but finally she shrugged and turned away. Moments passed, during which Anthony noticed that the children seemed uneasy. They glanced at one another and watched Miss Thraxton warily.

Anna finally broke the silence. “Desford, would you bring Richard a new sheet of paper?”

Desford went to rise, but fell back in his chair. He sat, stunned, then scowled and tried to rise again. Once more he fell back into his chair.

Elizabeth blinked. “What is it?”

“Can’t you get up?” Anthony asked. He glanced at Anna and surprised a ghost of a smile on her lips, but it was gone before he could be sure.

Desford tried to stand again. This time he made it, but his chair went with him. “It’s stuck to my pants!” he said in a voice of blank wonder. He pushed at the chair, and it slowly released and dropped to the floor with a thunk.

The seat was covered with a thick grayish paste. “Glue,” Desford said blankly. “Someone put glue in my chair.”

Serena placed a hand over her open mouth, her eyes on the seat of her brother’s pants. “Desford, your pants are wet. You look like you’ve p—”

“I know what it looks like,” he snapped, cheeks pink. He glared at Elizabeth. “Did you—”

“Of course not!” she said indignantly, tossing her brown curls. “How could I? I was with you all morning.”

Desford whipped his glare to Richard.

Richard shook his head, his brown hair flopping into his eyes.

“It had to be someone,” Desford said menacingly. “It had to be—” Suddenly he swung his gaze to Thraxton. “It was you.”

Anthony waited for her to deny it, but instead she smiled serenely. Desford’s face reddened.

“I believe I won that trick,” she said calmly.

Elizabeth, who had been staring curiously at Desford, suddenly giggled. Which set off Marian and then Selena. Even Richard had a ghost of a smile on his face.

Anthony wasn’t sure he liked any of this. “Did you really put glue on his seat?”

“Desford and I have been trading jokes, haven’t we, Desford?”

The boy’s mouth continued to open and close, his face an alarming shade of red. “You—you—”

“Easy there.” Anna lifted her brows. “It’s a joke, Desford. Rather like stitching someone’s pantaloons closed. Ever heard of anyone doing such a thing?”

Desford shrugged, some of his anger melting away. “Once or twice.”

“Yes, well, although that seems like a very funny thing, it is quite possible someone could get hurt.”

Elizabeth’s giggles ceased. “How could someone get hurt from that?”

Anna pushed up her sleeve. A huge blue and black bruise appeared on her elbow.

“Oh no,” Elizabeth said, looking stricken.

“Good God, Thraxton,” Anthony said. “Did Desford—”

“Heavens, no.” She smoothed her sleeve back in place. “It was an accident. Nothing more.”

A flicker of surprise lit Desford’s gaze, but he didn’t say anything. Anna locked gazes with the boy. “However, I’m certain it’s the last bruise I will get.”

The boy’s shoulders sagged and he looked away. “May I change my breeches?”

“Certainly. We will wait for you here.”

The boy ducked his head in a quick nod, then left while the other children went back to their work.

Anthony stood. “Miss Thraxton, may I speak with you outside?”

She sighed but went with him, admonishing the children to finish their work. Once in the hallway she looked up at him with a challenging set to her jaw. “Yes?”

“How many tricks have they played on you?”

“Not so many that I felt the need to run to you.”

Anthony frowned. Always before, he heard about each and every infraction committed by the children. “When were you going to inform me of this situation?”

“Never. It’s my job to deal with the children, not yours. It’s what you paid me to do.”

He caught her wrist and pushed the cuff up to reveal the bruise once more. “This is not part of your job.”

She tugged her arm free and smoothed her sleeve back in place. “No, that was an accident. Greyley, when I reach a point where I feel incapable of dealing with the children, you will hear from me.”

He looked down at her, at the sparkle of humor that lit her eyes, at the genuine warmth that curved her mouth into a smile, and a sudden well of anger made him curse. “I’m going to put a stop to this right now.”

“Nonsense. Let them play their tricks. It will give me the opportunity to play a few of my own. They really are harmless, you know. They’ve done nothing truly malicious.”

“That’s not what my last governess believed.”

“Then she must have been prone to overreaction. Mrs. Stibbons has told me every trick the children have played and none of them warranted the attention they’ve gotten.”

She was amazing. There she stood, having been subjected to God knew how much ink and glue and honey, yet she was able to grin without the least bitterness. The morning light glinted on her auburn hair, setting her creamy skin aglow. “Made of steel, are you, Thraxton?”

She gave him a cheeky grin. “I have my weaknesses. We all do.” She glanced through the doorway at the children. “They are basically good children. And very bright to have executed some of their more elaborate plans. Desford is a natural leader.”

Anthony had no doubt that Desford could lead armies on siege—he’d had the dubious felicity of seeing him in action. “Miss Thraxton, I’m curious. Just what do you hope to gain by operating at the children’s level?”

“Respect and perhaps trust. After that it is simply a matter of establishing a few boundaries and we will all deal famously.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“No, but I enjoy it anyway. I like helping people.” She looked at him and tilted her head to one side, her curls swinging across her shoulder. “You, on the other hand, don’t like helping people.”

Anthony stiffened. “What do you mean by that? I help people all the time.”

“No, you take responsibility for them. You make their decisions, rescue them from their faults, pave the way for them to become even more dependent on you. It’s no wonder you’re always in a bad mood.”

Damn it, why did Thraxton have to always see the worst in him, but the best in everyone else? It seemed grossly unfair. “I’m not in a bad mood,” he snapped.

She eyed him. “Oh?”

His jaw tightened. “Only with you. With everyone else, I’m very pleasant. Ask anyone.”

“The children think you the most horrid-tempered man.”

“They do not.”

“Shall we ask them?”

Anthony glanced inside the door to where the children sat doing their work. Try as he might, he hadn’t been able to get close to them. Or anyone, in fact. It was strange, but when he’d come to the Elliots, he’d lost something. Some facet of his personality. A pleasantness, perhaps.

The thought did not sit well, and he glowered. Elizabeth glanced up and caught his gaze. She flushed a bright red and hurriedly lowered her gaze back to her desk. Anthony frowned. Good God, did they actually fear him?

“Did you wish to ask the children or not?”

“I’m certain they believe me an ogre. They haven’t given me much chance to show them anything else.”

“True. But then they are children. You are not.”

“I am the head of my family, Thraxton. I do what I must.”

“Yes, you do. And from what I hear, you meet your responsibilities head on. I was just commenting on the fact that you could do it without growling quite so much. Look around you, Greyley. They are not pieces of bad pottery, but people.” She offered him a friendly smile as if she hadn’t just mortally offended him. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.” With a pleasant nod, she turned back to the room and took her place beside Richard and began helping the boy with his math.

Anthony stood where he was, flexing and unflexing his hands. She expected him to do something, he just knew it. Anna Thraxton was like that, meddling in other people’s affairs and trying to change things. But by God, he would have none of it. His life had been perfect before the children had arrived. They would conform to his expectations and so would Thraxton, no matter how saucy she’d become.

He turned on his heel and left, heading for his library and the waiting bottle of port. As he went, he caught sight of the new maid hired to replace the one the children had chased off. She was trotting down the hallway carrying a bucket, humming off-key. She skid to a halt on seeing Anthony, then glanced around her like a wild animal looking for somewhere to hide. Before he could say a word, she saw an open door and scuttled through it as if afraid for her life, the bucket sloshing against her leg as she went.

Anthony’s footsteps slowed to a stop. Good God, could Thraxton be right? Had he become so immersed in his own concerns that he was no longer aware of others? Had he become so grim and unapproachable that he was…an ogre?

The thought was as unpalatable as it was unwelcome. Still, Anthony prided himself on being fair. If he had begun to display a severe demeanor, he was certain he’d been provoked. First by the Elliots and now by his charges. Damn them all.

For some reason, knowing he was justified did not help one iota. And it was with a very heavy sigh that he went into his library and closed the door.