“There you are.” Lady Putney’s shrill voice cut through the large, sunny nursery.

Anna stiffened, glad her back was to the doorway so that the children didn’t see her involuntary grimace. Every morning for the last five days Lady Putney had come to visit, a swath of silk, perfume, and poison, upsetting everyone and destroying whatever calm Anna had managed to instill.

Still, as noxious as Anna found Lady Putney, she preferred her presence to the earl’s brooding company. He, too, came to monitor her progress in the nursery, though he rarely attempted to interfere except to ask for that ridiculous schedule.

But Anna knew that the second she put such a document into Greyley’s hands, he would expect her to follow it to the letter. She valued her freedom too much for that.

As for Lady Putney, her purpose was far less benign.

“Miss Thraxton,” Lady Putney said, her mouth thinned into oblivion. “It’s almost eleven o’clock. Aren’t the children allowed some time to play?”

Desford immediately threw down his pen. Anna grit her teeth—it had taken her most of the morning to convince the stubborn child to begin his lessons, and now that woman had ruined all.

Some of her frustration must have shown on her face for Elizabeth leaned closer and whispered, “Are you well?”

Anna patted the child’s hand before she turned to face Lady Putney. “How kind of you to join us yet again.”

The older woman’s frown deepened. “I have spent the last week watching you, and I must tell you that I dislike what I see.”

Anna turned back to the table and silently conjugated the Latin word for “attack.”

“You work them all morning without cease,” Lady Putney complained. “Then you take them for rides for hours on end.”

“Exercise is good for the children,” Anna said. She often allowed them to do their lessons out of doors, which they seemed to enjoy. Even Desford was more manageable when sitting under a tree, his bare toes in the grass, the wind ruffling his hair.

Lady Putney sniffed. “I cannot believe you allow the children to spend such an inordinate amount of time in the sun. Poor Elizabeth has a sad tendency to freckle.”

Elizabeth flushed a painful red, and Anna’s temper slipped another notch. “Well, I think Elizabeth looks lovely with a little color.”

The girl gave her a tremulous smile, which Anna returned with a firm one of her own.

“Color!” Lady Putney exclaimed. “She’ll look like a milkmaid if you continue.”

Anna’s smile began to ache. “Lady Putney, if you will excuse us. We have lessons to do and—”

“That is another thing,” Lady Putney said, wafting further into the room, her black hair in jarring contrast to her pale skin. “The girls are not improving in their watercolors. Just yesterday Marian was attempting to paint a flower and it looked more like a horse than else.”

“It was a horse,” Marian mumbled, her jaw set. “I don’t like flowers.”

Anna placed a hand on the child’s shoulder. “Lady Putney, perhaps we should have this conversation another time, when—”

“No. We will discuss it now.”

Anna stiffened. “Lord Greyley employed me. I answer to him and no one else.”

“Lord Greyley feels exactly as I do,” Lady Putney said, a narrow smirk on her red mouth. “We have discussed your inadequacies many times.”

The wretch! For some reason, it hurt to think that Greyley had confided his disappointment to Lady Putney. “I’m sorry to hear that Lord Greyley finds my work so unsatisfactory.”

“So am I,” said a deep voice from the doorway.

Anna whirled to find Greyley’s hard brown gaze fixed on Lady Putney. From the grim set of his mouth, he was far from pleased. Anna’s heart lightened somewhat.

Meanwhile, Lady Putney turned a bright pink. “Greyley, there you are. I was just telling Miss Thraxton—”

“I heard what you were saying,” the earl said, strolling into the nursery, his broad shoulders barely clearing the door. “I would appreciate it if you would stop speaking for me when you have no right. We have never discussed Miss Thraxton in such a manner and you know it.”

Lady Putney’s smile froze on her face. “Surely you would agree that her methods are unconventional and—”

“Miss Thraxton is the governess. You are not.”

Lady Putney’s eyes grew hard. “Do not speak to me like that. The children are always my concern.”

“No, they’re mine,” the earl said in a suddenly silky tone. “And if you cannot reconcile yourself to that fact, then allow me to order your carriage.”

Desford stood, his hands clenched into fists. “Grandmama cannot leave.”

The earl flickered a glance his way. “She may stay as long as she respects the rules of the house.”

The boy’s jaw jutted. “What if I don’t respect the rules? Will you toss me out on my ear, as well?”

Despite the tenseness of the situation, Anna had to repress a smile. Greyley and Desford stood staring at each other, and though their coloring was vastly different, they looked astonishingly alike.

Anna cleared her throat. “Pardon me, but perhaps we should continue this conversation elsewhere. The children have quite a lot to do today and—”

“Miss Thraxton,” Lady Putney snapped. “Need I remind you that you are the governess. If the earl or I wish to speak to you, then—”

“Lady Putney,” Greyley growled, glaring darkly. The sunlight that poured through the nursery windows glinted on his hair and turned it hard gold. “That’s enough. I believe you should leave.”

Lady Putney drew herself up, her crimsoned mouth trembling with outrage. “Very well. But I will be watching, and if I see Miss Thraxton engaged in even one impropriety, I will not be silenced.” So saying, she turned and swept from the room.

His jaw set, Greyley turned to Anna. “I hope that harridan has not been bothering you an inordinate amount.”

“No more than usual.” Try as she would, Anna couldn’t help but wonder if there was some basis of truth in Lady Putney’s allegations. “Lord Greyley, I wish to ask you a question and I would like a direct answer, if you would.”

He regarded her for a moment, then shrugged. “Ask.”

“Do you approve of the way I’ve been instructing the children?” As soon as the question left her mouth, she wished she could call it back. But her Thraxton blood was boiling and she’d be damned if she’d let even the implication that she was unworthy continue to stand.

He didn’t answer, his dark gaze melting through her, turning her bones to jam. “No, I don’t approve of the way you’ve been instructing the children. However, they seem to like you. And so far, they are behaving.”

Anna glanced back at the children. It was true they had settled into a pattern of late, with Desford offering fewer and fewer tricks. Still, she had the distinct impression that something was brewing. She could tell by the way Desford was less vocal in his arguments, and from Elizabeth’s guilty expression whenever Anna smiled at her. Something was about to happen.

But there was no need to mention it to Greyley. As soon as she discovered their plan, she’d overset it. Until then…She glanced back at the earl. “I should return to the children’s lessons. Was there anything you wanted?”

“Yes. I came to see if you would join me for a ride this afternoon.”

“Ride?” Her voice cracked in half and made her wince.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling in the most attractive way. “There are some paths that I’m certain the children know nothing about. We could explore those and you could see if they are suitable for your daily jaunts.”

“A ride would be lovely. The children would enjoy it very much.”

“Not the children,” he said, a touch of impatience to his voice. “Just you and I. Alone.”

Alone. With Greyley. The thought tantalized, beckoned. Anna swallowed with difficulty. “I don’t think that would be wise—”

“You could tell me more about the mural you long to see in the foyer,” he said. “And all your plans for instructing the children.”

That was too much, even for her. “Lord Greyley, it would not be appropriate for us to…” To what? A thousand forbidden images flittered through her mind, most of them centered around the still-fresh memory of his mouth hot over hers. She quickly locked the door on her unruly imagination and cleared her throat. “Lord Greyley, it would not be appropriate for us to ride alone together. I am just the governess.”

“Miss Thraxton, this is Greyley House. I make the rules here. Besides, I only wish to discuss the children. And the mural.”

“We can do that here.”

“Can we?” His gaze slipped past her to the room beyond.

Anna turned away and met the interested stares of the children. Elizabeth was even leaning forward, intent on catching every word, while Desford’s brow was lowered. “Lord Greyley, I cannot go riding with you. That is the last I’ll say on the matter.”

Anna’s expression was so much that of a martyr on the verge of being tossed into the flames that Anthony had to resist the urge to grin. “Come, Thraxton. I won’t curse, bite, or spit. I promise.”

She muttered something that sounded curiously like “I doubt that.”

“What?”

“Nothing. If you’ll excuse us, we have work to do.” She turned back to the children and began calmly discussing the conjugation of a Greek word that Anthony only vaguely remembered from his youth.

Anthony raked a hand through his hair. Damn it, he wasn’t suggesting anything improper, just a ride. What the hell was wrong with that? “Miss Thraxton, I—”

“Lord Greyley, while you are welcome here at any time, you must promise not to interrupt the children’s instruction. It is only fair.”

Anthony found that he disliked being corrected even more than he disliked being dismissed. “Very well,” he said stiffly. “I will leave you to your work.”

With a final nod, he left the impertinent wench where she belonged—tending the hellions in the nursery. Consoling himself with the thought that such duty had to be onerous and boring and massively unpleasant, he strode to the library where he methodically overindulged in a bottle of port.

What had he been thinking, anyway? Thraxton was the governess. In all his years, not since the legendary Matilda, had Greyley even once embarked on a flirtation with a member of his staff. He felt that to do so would be to overstep his boundaries as lord of the manor. Boundaries he took very seriously.

But with Thraxton…it was difficult to remember that she was not his social equal. She walked, talked, acted, breathed, and defied him like a born member of the gentry. Which was what she was.

A true gentleman would never invite one of his employees into taking long, lonely rides across his lands. Even though he had been acting on the advice of her grandfather.

Anthony silently toasted Sir Phineas for his forward-thinking ways. Now there was a man who knew how to deal with adversity. Having lived with Anna Thraxton, Sir Phineas was probably as close to being a saint as any man alive. Anthony toasted the old man yet again. By God, Anthony would heed the old man’s advice and find a way to make Anna go for a ride. It would take wit and cunning, but Anthony was certain it could be done. He mulled over the possibilities as he worked his way through the rest of the port.

Later on, Mr. Dalmapple returned to the library only to take one look at the earl and then prudently closed the door and left. Shaking his head sadly, he went home early for the first time in almost twelve years.

 

Anthony awoke the next morning with a raging headache and a foul taste in his mouth. God, but he was too old for this. Too old for five children and far, far too old to deal with one cheeky governess.

The door to his room was unceremoniously opened. Anthony cautiously lifted one eyelid to see his brother Brand standing at the foot of his bed. Anthony groaned. “When the hell did you get here?”

“This morning. Aren’t you going to welcome me?”

Anthony opened his other eye and then gingerly swung his feet out of bed. “Do you ever knock?”

Brand dropped into a chair by the fire. “You’d be surprised at the things you can discover by barging into someone’s bedchamber unannounced.”

“I’m going to start keeping my pistol more closely at hand. Perhaps if I shot you, you’d learn some manners.”

“You can try.” Brand leaned back in the chair and laced his hands behind his head. “I’m only here for a day or so.”

“Oh?” Anthony eyed his younger brother with a bleary eye. Brand appeared to be in amazing spirits. “Bastard.”

Brand’s grin widened. “I hate to bother you while you are busy being in such a foul mood, but I’ve a favor to ask. I wondered if you would mind if I left Satan here.”

“Aren’t you taking him with you?”

“Not this time. I’ve business to attend to and it won’t wait.”

“I don’t like you disappearing for weeks on end. You should tell someone where you are.”

Brand lifted his brows. “Worried about me, brother dear? I’m unmanned.”

“Don’t make me ill. I just don’t want to be the one to tell Marcus his little brother is missing yet again. He’s not the most pleasant of people when angry.”

“No, he’s not. He’s too protective, which is one of his less endearing faults.”

“He is the head of the family. That makes him responsible for you whether you like it or not.”

“He takes his job far too seriously. But then, so do you.” Brand frowned. “The Elliots are a difficult family to manage.”

“There are some who show promise.”

“Name one.”

“Rupert could turn out well.”

“Rupert Elliot is a rakehell of the lowest sort. You are the only one who sees any good in him. Even his own mother says he’s uncontrollable.”

Anthony gave a brief smile. “If Lady Putney says it is so, then it is a lie.”

“I have to agree with you there. I’ve only been here half an hour and she has already banished me from the morning room for what she termed ‘an impertinent and rude comment.’”

“Was it ‘impertinent and rude’?”

“Oh yes.” Brand stretched his legs before him. “Tell me, Anthony, why do you stomach that woman’s presence under your roof?”

“The children. For some reason I cannot fathom, they seem to like her, and I have no wish to make her a martyr in their eyes.”

Brand shook his head. “If you kick her out, she becomes a saint and you, the devil. If you leave her here, she will continue to poison the minds of the children against you. You are well and truly damned.”

Anthony rose and splashed his face with water from the basin on his nightstand. “Which is why I have employed Miss Thraxton.”

Brand appeared impressed. “Ah, the delectable Thraxton.”

Anthony turned to his brother. “Delectable?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t looked at that woman. She’s all leg and bosom, and that hair…” Brand placed his hands over his heart and sighed. “Delectable doesn’t even begin to describe such beauty.”

Anthony scowled. “I’d thank you to remember that Miss Thraxton is in my employ. I won’t have you troubling her.”

Every vestige of humor vanished from Brand’s face. “I’ve never forced my attentions on any woman, much less one under your roof.”

A strained silence filled the room and Anthony grimaced. “I’m sorry, Brand. I’m just a bit worn around the edges.”

“Thanks to Miss Thraxton?”

“She’s the most argumentative female I’ve ever met,” Anthony said honestly, wondering why he also found himself wanting to grin. He ruthlessly suppressed the urge. “She’s very forthright, as is her grandfather.”

“That must be the elderly gentleman I spoke with in the breakfast room. He tried to convince me to purchase two hundred French sheaths.”

Anthony frowned. “Damn it, I thought I had put a stop to that.”

“According to Jenkins, he has been hawking them to the upstairs maids. Apparently they didn’t know exactly what they were and thought they were caps of some sort.” Brand chuckled. “Lord, I would have loved to have seen that.”

“It’s a wonder he hasn’t begun advertising in the Post.”

A soft knock came at the door. At Anthony’s call, his valet entered the room, a coat carefully folded over his thin arm. “Your coat, my lord,” Ledbetter said. “I took the liberty of brushing it.” He deposited it on the edge of the bed, then stepped into the dressing room and came out with a deep red waistcoat.

Made of watered silk, it was heavily embroidered with black and gold thread. Anthony frowned. “Where the hell did that come from?”

“You purchased it last month, while in London.”

“I must have been drunk.” Anthony waved a hand. “Take it away.”

Ledbetter managed a pained smile. “I believe you were a trifle to let, sir. However, it is still a very well made garment.”

“I’ll wear the blue waistcoat.”

“But my lord, this is very fashionable—”

“I don’t want fashion; I want comfort. Besides, I’ll be damned if I wear something that sparkles. I’d feel like a Bartholomew boy.” He glanced at the red waistcoat, then grimaced. “While you are fetching a new one, toss that one in the fire.”

Ledbetter all but gaped. “My lord, the gold threading was very expensive! And the buttons are made of—”

“I don’t care, just get rid of it.”

Brand tsked. “Ledbetter, I apologize for my brother. He has no sense of fashion.”

“No, all of the dandyism in our family settled on you, didn’t it?” Anthony returned, casting a caustic eye over his brother. It was amazing, really, but Brand was never anything other than perfectly dressed. Anthony had seen him at five in the morning, completely besotted with drink, and yet he still managed to appear as if he’d just stepped from his dressing room.

“My lord,” Ledbetter said in an imploring tone, “please do not ask me to destroy this garment. It is far too fine for such an ignoble end.”

“Then give it to one of the footmen.”

“But I—”

“I don’t care what you do with it, just get it out of my wardrobe. It offends me.”

“Yes, my lord.” Ledbetter carefully picked up the waistcoat and disappeared into the dressing room. He returned very shortly with two more waistcoats, one a rather plain blue, the other an extravagant green creation.

He held out the green waistcoat. “If the red one is too uncomfortable, then perhaps you should try this one, my lord. It is quite fetching.”

Brand sat up. “Good God, are those mother-of-pearl buttons?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Anthony said. “I’ll take the blue one, Ledbetter. Put that other one away.”

“But sir, I thought perhaps—”

“The blue one.”

“Better listen to him, Ledbetter,” Brand said. “He’s in the devil of a temper this morning.”

The valet hesitated, then glanced at his employer and nodded. “As you wish, my lord.” He laid the blue waistcoat on the bed and then slowly left the room, his shoulders bent, his head down.

Brand watched him go. “I may attempt to steal Ledbetter from you. He’d get a good deal more joy from dressing a man of fashion than a country squire.”

“Steal him, if you can. He won’t go.”

Brand’s blue eyes turned his way. “Paying him through the nose, are you?”

“You wouldn’t be enough of a challenge. Ledbetter has devoted his life to trying to improve me.” Anthony took a cravat from the pile and carelessly knotted it about his neck. “I think he’s vowed to reform me or die trying.”

Brand winced. “At least attempt a decent knot.” He indicated his own neckcloth, which was an intricate concoction of knots and ties that defied description.

“What the hell do you call that?” Anthony demanded.

“The St. John. It’s my own creation.”

“How long did it take you to tie it?”

“Two hours.”

“That’s half a day!”

“You know, Anthony, it would do you a world of good to get out more, see some of the world.” Brand carefully smoothed his perfectly pressed cuff. “Might put some polish on you.”

There were many in society who thought Brandon St. John was a useless fribble, more interested in fashion than else. Anthony suspected Brand’s attachment to the cut of his new waistcoat and the turn of his cuff was simply his way to redirect attention from his private affairs.

And those, whatever they were, engrossed him an unusual amount of time. “When do you leave?”

“Don’t you like my company?”

“Of course I do. Behind that outlandish waistcoat is a man I’m proud to call brother.”

“My waistcoat is all the crack.”

“I’m sure it is. Or it will be, once you flash yourself about town. I’m merely surprised you haven’t raced off into the night as you so frequently do.”

“One must play. And when one has a particularly succulent lady friend who also likes to play…well, the possibilities are endless.”

Anthony wondered briefly if the reason Brand kept his lady friend such a secret was that she possessed a husband and thus they were required to be discreet. It was a possibility, for Brand had certainly been secretive of late. “Whatever you do, be cautious. I don’t want to have to explain to Marcus how you got your head blown off.”

“Marcus would draw my claret if I kicked up so much as a breath of scandal. He’s gotten rather peculiar about that lately.”

“That’s because our youngest brother has been giving him trouble.”

“Chase has been kicking at the traces again, has he?”

“And more seriously this time. Marcus wouldn’t give me the details, but he was far from pleased.”

“I’m glad I don’t have such problems. You and Marcus can run your families any way you wish—I like my freedom.”

“If you came here to gloat, then be gone.”

“Actually, I wanted to know if you wished to go for a ride this morning. It’s a lovely day.”

Anthony glanced at the window. Bright sunlight crept through the curtains and brightened the whole room. A brisk ride might clear his head, too. “I would—”

Ledbetter burst into the room. “Pardon me, my lord, but your shoes!” He stopped and pressed a hand to his chest, panting heavily. “They cannot be—but they are! I cannot believe—”

“Damn it, Ledbetter! What about my shoes?”

“They have gone missing.”

Brandon frowned. “Missing?”

The valet nodded. “All of them.”

“Perhaps they have been misplaced,” Brand offered.

“No, my lord. They were all there last night. I polish His Lordship’s boots every night, and last night, when I brought them back, all of his shoes were right where they were required to be. I fear someone has stolen them.”

“That’s odd.” Brand glanced at Anthony. “Who could possibly want your shoes?”

Anthony knew of at least five little somebodies who might think it amusing to steal his shoes. “I’ll strangle every one of those little monsters.”

“Ah, the children. I’ll wager you are right. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless it was Miss Thraxton. Perhaps she harbors a secret passion for you and has taken your shoes and has built a shrine with them in some obscure part of this moldy house.”

Anthony shot him a dark glance. “Aren’t you needed in London?”

“No. And even if I were, I wouldn’t miss this little play for the world.”

Anthony made an exasperated noise. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times that I—” He caught sight of Ledbetter’s averted gaze. “Damn it, we’ll discuss this later. Ledbetter, are there any shoes left at all?”

“Yes, my lord. One pair, but—”

“Bring them out.”

“Yes, but—”

“Now.”

His mouth pinched with disapproval, the valet bowed and disappeared back into the dressing room.

“Why do you think they stole your shoes?” Brand asked, still looking annoyingly amused.

“To irritate me to death.”

“You are quite red. Be careful or they will succeed.”

“I’ll be damned if I let a bunch of ill-mannered hoydens get the best of me. When I see them, I will calmly demand they return my shoes or—” Anthony bit off his thoughts.

“Or?” Brand prompted.

Or what? What could he take from them? The rides they enjoyed with their governess? He suddenly had a picture of Anna returning to the house, her hair tumbling from her pins, that ridiculous hat with the long white feather caressing her cheek. By God, that’s exactly what he’d do. Maybe then she’d ride with him instead.

Ledbetter returned carrying a pair of red velvet slippers, ostentatiously embroidered with purple and gilt thread. The tips were slightly pointed and large gold tassels adorned the sides.

Brand choked. “Bloody hell!”

“They’re from our beloved Aunt Delphi,” Anthony said, eyeing the shoes with distaste. “She assured me they were all the rage in France.”

“And to think I complained when she bought me that pair of spangled stockings,” Brand said. “Pray tell me you aren’t going to wear those monstrosities.”

“I don’t have a choice. I’m going to find Miss Thraxton and show her how remiss she’s been at her position.” Anthony yanked the slippers from Ledbetter’s hand and threw them onto the floor, then rammed his feet into them. His heels hung a good inch over the backs. “Damn it!”

Brand winced. “I can’t watch this. I’m on my way to the stables to see to Satan. Come and join me if you find your riding boots.” Casting a last, laughing glance at his brother’s feet, Brand left.

As soon as the door closed, Ledbetter sniffed. “If you don’t mind my saying so, this isn’t a matter for levity. Footwear is an important part of one’s attire.” He glanced at Anthony’s feet and shuddered. “I will be waiting to hear what has occurred to your shoes. I only hope they have not been left in a moldy, damp place.”

Anthony didn’t answer, but turned and tromped out, gold tassels swinging with each step.