An Affair to Remember (21 page)

“Nonsense,” Anthony said shortly.

Anna managed a brittle smile. “Lady Putney, how nice to see you. Have you come from the nursery?”

“Yes, which you would know if you had been where you belonged,” the old woman said coldly.

Anthony frowned at Lady Putney. “That’s enough of that. I’m glad you’ve come.”

She raised her thin brows, suspicion on her face. “Why?”

“A girl named Lily has been serving as your lady’s maid.”

The change of topic unnerved Lady Putney, for she blinked. “Lily? She is a clumsy child, but with a little instruction, I daresay she’ll do.”

“Her clumsiness is about to become someone else’s concern,” Greyley said without any show of emotion. “She has shown herself to be adept at working with the children so I am assigning Lily to Miss Thraxton. You will find another maid.”

Anna winced. Why did Greyley have to be so preemptory in his speaking? He barked orders as if he were the general of a very uncooperative army.

Lady Putney’s jaw tightened. “I just got that stupid girl where she could do my hair with some talent!”

“What a pity,” Greyley said. “Lily is going to the nursery and that is that.”

Anna rubbed her forehead.
Sweet heavens, but the man is insufferable
. Greyley stormed his way through life, stepping on toes and tromping on other people’s pride without the slightest regard. She said smoothly, “Lady Putney, Lily will come to the nursery only if you don’t mind.”

Greyley waved his hand. “Lady Putney will not be discomfited. I will send to London for a suitable replacement. Someone more practiced in being a lady’s maid.”

Anna could see the elder woman grappling with the decision. Since it was obvious that Anna wished for Lily’s assistance, Lady Putney did not wish to relinquish her claim. But if she did not, she would lose Greyley’s generous offer of a London-trained maid.

“Perhaps I should simply find another servant,” Anna interjected, keeping a narrow watch on Lady Putney. “I’m sure there are a dozen or more who would do.”

Anthony turned to Anna. She met his glance with a meaningful stare.

After a moment, he smiled, then said, “I’m sure you are right, Miss Thraxton. There are probably two dozen persons capable of dealing with the children in the nursery. And I’m sure that Lily is a more than proficient lady’s maid for Lady Putney. Besides, I’m not sure what it would cost me to procure the services of a London trained maid, but I’m certain it would be outrageous and—”

“Wait,” Lady Putney said, her mouth pinched. “Surely you would not count pennies when talking about my comfort. I will tell Dalmapple to see to the hiring of a maid from London as soon as possible.” She turned a bitter glare at Anna. “As for Lily, Miss Thraxton is welcome to her. She has clumsy hands and has pulled my hair I know not how many times during the past sennight. I am forever boxing her ears for her lack of attention.”

Anna decided it would be very satisfying to box Lady Putney’s ears, but only if she could use a boat oar to do so. She managed a credible smile. “Lady Putney, you are too kind to allow the children to have your maid.”

That seemed to mollify the woman, for her face softened slightly. “Yes, well, anything for the children. They are my only joy.” She sent a bitter glare at Greyley. “That is the reason I came looking for you. The children have not been to Chawley House in some time. I would like to take them for a visit.”

“Chawley House?” Anna asked.

“Lady Putney’s home in Somerset,” Anthony said grimly. He glanced at Lady Putney from beneath his brows. “We have spoken of this before, and we agreed that the children would stay here for at least a year.”

“I only wish to take them for a week or so. They would benefit from it, especially poor Desford. He is wilting away in this moldy pile.”

“Greyley House is not a ‘moldy pile.’”

Lady Putney shuddered. “This house is a mausoleum.”

“Then leave,” Greyley said, reaching out to pull the bell rope. “I’ll order a carriage.”

Lady Putney seemed to realize she’d gone too far, for she tittered nervously. “I cannot leave while the children are here.”

“Yes, you can.” But he removed his hand from the bell pull. “And it is time you realized that.”

The tension in the room was so taut that Anna cleared her throat. “Lady Putney, perhaps you would like to go to the nursery with me now, to visit the children.” It seemed imperative to get the interfering woman out of the room before Greyley burst into flames.

Lady Putney’s face tightened. “Miss Thraxton, it is not your place to tell me what to do.”

“She didn’t tell you to do anything,” Greyley replied. “She asked you. And much more nicely than I would have.”

Lady Putney looked from Anna to the earl and back, dawning disgust on her face. “Well! I see how things are.”

“I doubt it,” Greyley said. “But that is nothing new.”

“I don’t have to listen to this,” Lady Putney replied. She turned to Anna. “Miss Thraxton, I hope you enjoy the services of
my
maid. I’m sure you’ve earned it.” Sniffing rudely, she turned and left, slamming the door behind her.

Anna whirled to face Greyley. “Must you be so offensive?”

“You don’t know the half of what that woman has done.”

“It doesn’t matter. Setting up her back will do no good at all.”

“Listen, Thraxton, I don’t need anyone telling me how to act.”

“I beg to differ. Your manners are harsh and unfair. Worse, you allowed Lady Putney to think that we were—” Her anger
threatened to boil over. “Lord Greyley, our involvement is at an end.” She turned toward the door.

He stepped forward as if to stop her, but Anna was too quick. She made sure she slammed the door behind her, the sound echoing in the hallway.

The nodcock! The arrogant, ill-mannered ass
. She fumed all the way back to the nursery, throwing the door open with such force it bounced against the wall.

The children all looked up, as did Mrs. Stibbons, surprise on their faces. Anna cursed her own ill temper. “Sorry. Must have been a draft.”

Mrs. Stibbons set Selena off her lap and stood. “I was just tellin’ the children a story.”

Selena nodded, her curls bouncing along. “It was about a giant.”

“And a magic arrow,” added Marian, who was pink with excitement.

Anna’s mouth softened, though she couldn’t quite manage a smile. “You must be quite a tale spinner, Mrs. Stibbons.”

“I’ve heard it before,” Desford said sulkily.

“There now,” Mrs. Stibbons said, smiling merrily. “That’s why I brought some of Cook’s finest apple tarts, for those who’d be bored to tears by my poor rendition of the Tale of Chatswith.” She leaned toward Anna and said loudly, “Master Desford was very polite and did not once offer to tell the surprise ending.”

“Excellent,” Anna murmured, noticing that Desford was keeping his gaze fixed on an apple tart. “I’ve already noticed that he is a man of his word.”

His gaze jerked up to her, and he frowned, and then looked away.

Mrs. Stibbons noted it all. Once she had settled the chil
dren back to their tasks, she said quietly, “Don’t let Master Desford set you off, miss. He’s a good boy, but full of the Elliot pride. If Lord Greyley would just imagine himself at that age, they’d get along like Flick and Flin.”

“I fear that Lord Greyley lacks the delicacy of thought such a concept would take. He has all the charm of a violent explosion.”

Mrs. Stibbons chuckled. “There you have it, miss. I’m glad to see you know him so well already.”

“He isn’t very difficult to decipher.”

“Oh, he’s the salt of the earth, he is. As good as they get, but—” She blew out her breath in a gusty sigh. “There are times I could wring His Lordship’s neck. He’s a good master, but he doesn’t understand the need for a soft word now and again.”

“He’s gotten his way far too much for his own good.”

“Lord, yes. What he needs is a good wife. A pity Miss Melton’s grandmother died and she had to go into mourning. I think they’d have already wed if it wasn’t for that.”

Anna’s heart jerked to a halt and she slowly turned toward the housekeeper. “Miss Melton?”

“His Lordship’s betrothed.”

A roar pitched forth, echoing in Anna’s ears. She thought of Greyley’s mouth on hers, of the warmth of his arms about her and she took a long, slow breath. “Miss Melton?” she said again, as if in repeating the words, they might disappear like a wisp of troublesome smoke.

Mrs. Stibbons seemed blithely unaware that the air had turned to dark gray and was too thick to breathe. “Barely eighteen if she’s a day, and as pretty as they come, not that I think that had anything to do with it. His Lordship knows his responsibilities and he has to provide an heir else the entire estate will revert to the Elliots, and there’s not a one who’s worth a thimbleful of His Lordship’s spit.”

“Then Greyley’s engagement isn’t a love match?” Anna said, unsure why such a trivial thing made her lungs work again.

Mrs. Stibbons laughed merrily. “Lord love you, child! The gentry don’t do things that way. Besides, I don’t think His Lordship loves anyone.”

“Except his sister.”

“True. And his brothers—you can tell he’s fond of them. His marriage to Miss Melton was arranged between her father and His Lordship. The Melton land marches along Greyley’s and I daresay His Lordship thought to increase his holdings.” Mrs. Stibbons took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped a smudge off Selena’s cheek. The little girl didn’t even look up from where she was trying to make an “A” on a chalkboard. “A pity you’ll never meet Miss Melton, for I daresay she’d benefit from the experience.”

Anna leveled a look of disbelief at the housekeeper. “Why do you say that?”

Mrs. Stibbons tucked the handkerchief back in her pocket. “Miss Charlotte Melton is as sweet as they come, but she’s a mite short on spirit, if you know what I mean.”

Greyley
would
choose a bride with the character of a limp rag, Anna thought, seething at the thought that the bounder had been trying to make love to her while he’d been engaged to another woman. Not that Anna had thought for one second that Greyley’s intentions were anywhere near honorable. He couldn’t spell the word, much less serve as a definition.

Still, tears gathered at the thought of how intimate they’d already become. It was maddening, but she cared about him. Cared more than she wanted to admit.

To take her mind off her unruly emotions, Anna turned to the children and said in a brittle voice, “Perhaps we should make shadow puppets today.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Anna kept the children busily engaged, making puppets to go with their lessons on Queen Elizabeth and the glorious battle with the Spanish Armada. While assisting Desford in flipping tiny paper cannon balls at the large ship cutouts, Anna realized that perhaps it was all for the best. Her feelings for Greyley were growing far too quickly for her own comfort—just witness what the news of his betrothal had caused. A dull ache still reigned in the region of her heart.

If it weren’t for the fact she needed her pay to take care of Grandpapa, she’d be tempted to pack up and leave. Anna fingered a paper cannon and wondered what Sara would think of her brother’s betrothal to an eighteen-year-old miss who was still wet behind the ears.

Of course, that was just Mrs. Stibbons’s opinion. It was entirely possible that Miss Charlotte Melton was a very competent and knowledgable young woman. Perhaps she was even mercenary, or cruel. Anna’s arms tightened about Selena, who had come to stand at her knee. Anthony was just like any other man, susceptible to flattery and a pair of thickly lashed eyes.

Well, Anna would meet this paragon and see how the wind blew. And if Miss Charlotte Melton was anything less than the purest driven snow, Anna would immediately send word to Sara. It was the least she could do.

That decided, she picked up a pair of scissors and furiously chopped out a new cannon for the children’s amusement.

T
he next morning brought an end to the rain and a general increase in Anthony’s surly spirits. Brand left immediately after breakfast, saying he had urgent business in Devonshire to attend to. Another amorous adventure, Anthony decided sourly. He supposed he could sympathize; there was something intriguing about an elusive woman. Especially one who managed to avoid him even while employed under the same roof.

Since their meeting yesterday, Anthony had seen no more of Anna than the trail of her skirt as she whisked around the corner, always just out of sight. Every time she eluded him, he became more determined to seek her out. He’d even attempted to visit her in the nursery, but she’d recognized his tread on the stairs and had escaped out the narrow servants’
passage, leaving her teacup still gently steaming on a table, and a red-faced Lily stammering unintelligibly.

This morning had been no better—he’d ridden after the children who’d left for their morning ride, thinking to catch her there, only to discover two harassed grooms and a footman in attendance rather than Miss Thraxton. Robbed of his quarry, Anthony had stormed home and closeted himself with Dalmapple for the rest of the morning, taking care of matters of the estate and immersing himself so completely that he only occasionally thought of Anna. Once every two minutes or so.

He was just finishing a particularly thistly problem concerning the purchase of a rundown estate in Lincolnshire as a potential future home for Desford once he reached his majority, when a noise drew Anthony to the window.

He pushed back the edge of the curtain and looked into the garden below. On a low bench by the path sat Anna, dressed in a gown of soft blue that made her look as cool and refreshing as a spring breeze. She seemed engaged on some needlepoint, her hands steadily drawing a needle and thread through a bit of cloth.

On the bench across from her sat Desford, a book lying open on the ground at his feet. The boy was obviously on the defensive, his narrow shoulders hunched.

Careful not to make a noise, Anthony opened the window just a bit.

“I don’t have to be here,” Desford said.

Anna calmly took another stitch. “Yes, you do. If you cannot complete your lessons in the morning like the rest of the children, then you will give up your free time and do them now.”

Desford mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a curse. Anna lifted her brows. “Pardon me?”

The boy turned bright red and burst out, “The last governess we had never made us finish anything. She was much nicer than you.”

“Then you shouldn’t have chased the poor woman away. I daresay she would be here still if you hadn’t put glue and feathers on her pillow.”

“She deserved worse,” Desford said darkly.

“I agree, especially if she allowed you to leave your lessons unfinished.” Anna slid the needle into the cloth once more. “But now I’m your governess and you must finish your work.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you’ll sit there until you’ve finished. You’ve already missed your morning ride, and you are about to miss your lunch.”

As if on cue, the door from the morning room opened farther down the garden, and two footmen carried out a small table. Mrs. Stibbons followed with a maid and as soon as the table was in place, they draped a white cloth over it, fussing at the wind as they did so.

Anthony raised his brows. So the children were eating outside, were they? And in full view of Desford. Anthony had to give Anna credit—she was a formidable opponent.

Desford watched the preparations with a stubborn glare. Anthony could imagine what he was thinking—there was an almost festive air to the scene as the servants whisked about setting the table, the china clinked like chimes while the silver sparkled in the sun. Above, the swaying trees sprinkled sunlight over the whole.

Anthony shook his head at the grim look on the boy’s face. It was amazing, the amount of stubborn pride contained in that small body. In fact, there was a good deal about Desford’s expression that reminded Anthony of him
self at that age. In a way, they were the same—both left alone at an early age, though Desford had no stepfather to guide him.

The thought held Anthony for a full moment and he frowned down at the boy’s bent head. He remembered his own struggle to feel accepted, even with a stepfather who had taken pains to make him feel included. Perhaps he’d been too harsh with Desford. It hurt to admit it, but perhaps Anna was right. Maybe he did owe the children more gentleness.

He grimaced. In another week, that blasted woman would have him playing the harp and wearing skirts.

Anna’s chuckle drifted up to the window. “Don’t look so glum, Desford. You’d better pick up your book. It’s almost noon and luncheon will be ready soon.” She turned her head. “Ah, here come the others now.”

The excited murmur of children’s voices grew near and Elizabeth burst onto the path, followed by Selena and Marian. Richard trailed in the rear, a faint smile on his now-tanned face. Every day the boy seemed taller, somehow.

“There you are.” Anna set her sewing aside and smiled. “How was your ride?”

“I falled off and hurted myself,” Selena said, rubbing her seat, her face puckered. “But I didn’t cry.”

Marian snorted. “Then who was it that made such a racket that Miss Tateham pulled over in her curricle and offered to get a doctor?”

“That’s because I screamed,” Selena said. “But I didn’t cry.” She sent a pleased look at Anna. “I screamed very, very loud. Lots of people came to see my hurted bottom. Would you like to see it?”

“I’m sure it has already been thoroughly examined by now. Are you feeling better?”

Selena nodded regretfully. “It only hurts if I sit.”

Mrs. Stibbons bustled up and clucked her tongue. “Poor thing! I’ll fetch a nice soft cushion for you to sit upon. You’ll be just like a princess.”

“Princesses have hurted bottoms, too?” Selena asked, impressed.

“All the time, on account of their being so delicate.” Mrs. Stibbons gathered the children. “Come and eat, loves.”

Elizabeth started to scamper off, then paused. “Are you coming, Miss Thraxton?”

“Not right now. Desford is still working on his morning lessons.”

“Des, you haven’t finished yet?” Marian asked, incredulous.

Desford straightened his thin shoulders. “No, and I told Miss Thraxton I’d be damned if I would.”

Elizabeth gasped. “You said ‘damned’ to Miss Thraxton? And she didn’t wash your mouth out?”

Desford smirked. “No.”

“That’s because I didn’t hear you say it,” Anna said calmly, pinning the child with a no-nonsense look that made Anthony grin. “Furthermore, you gave your word not to curse in front of your sisters. Have you forgotten?”

Desford flushed. “No.”

“Don’t forget again,” Anna said in a milder tone, as if recognizing the boy’s honesty. “Children, go ahead and eat. Desford will be along when he finishes.”

With Mrs. Stibbons leading the way, the children moved on down the path, chattering loudly and leaving Desford to glare after them.

The housekeeper settled them at the table, made sure everyone was served, then returned down the path to Anna. “What about you, miss? I’m sure you’re hungry.”

“Desford is, too. Perhaps you could bring us a tray in a few moments? We’ll just eat here.”

“Yes, miss,” Mrs. Stibbons said cheerfully. “I think you’re going to be very happy with lunch today. We have shepherd’s pie, one of Master Desford’s favorites.” She offered a warm smile to the boy, then bustled off.

Silence reigned once more, broken only by the low talking and the occasional outburst of laughter from the table on the terrace. Desford kicked at his fallen book, his mouth turned in a sullen frown. Anna sewed quietly, occasionally lifting her face to the gentle summer breeze.

Anthony watched her, aware of a deep ache of dissatisfaction. She was a conundrum, fire one moment, then sitting contentedly in the sun the next, completely at peace with herself and her surroundings. He wondered what she would do if he joined her in the garden, sat with her on the bench, discussed the day’s events with her…A strange peace stole over him.

He wanted more than a short
affaire de coeur
with her. He wanted her all to himself—days, nights, afternoons, mornings…perhaps if he were patient, she would agree to take a house nearby. That would serve them all the better.

The door from the morning room opened once again and Mrs. Stibbons reappeared, followed by a swarm of servants that descended on the alcove where Anna sat with Desford. Within a short time, a small table had been placed on the flagstones, shaded by a huge oak tree. Two covers had been laid and large plates of food sat under shiny metal domes.

Anna thanked Mrs. Stibbons and waited for the last servant to leave before she rose and took a chair at the table, leaving her sewing on the bench. She opened her napkin and sighed happily. “I don’t know about you, but I’m famished.”

Desford brightened and started to rise. “I—”

“No, Desford. After you’ve finished your lessons.”

He blinked, astounded, and sank back onto the bench. “You would withhold my lunch?”

“And your dinner. And your breakfast tomorrow morning. We both have jobs to do, Desford. Yours is your lessons, mine is to see to it that you do them.”

“I won’t do them.”

“Then you will go hungry.” She picked up a piece of bread and spread marmalade across it, then took a generous bite. “Hm. I do so love orange marmalade.”

Desford stared resentfully as his governess took a bite of shepherd’s pie, the savory scent reaching even Anthony in the window far above. Anna commented on each bite, whether it was about the tenderness of the meat, or the excellent sauce Cook had poured over the potatoes.

Anthony almost chuckled aloud when Desford wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

It was amazing the way Anna approached her charges. She never spoke to them as if they were children, but rather as if they were little adults, capable of understanding the most obscure reasoning. Anthony was suddenly a little jealous of Desford. Certainly Anna had never gone to such lengths of trouble for
him
. Not yet, at least.

Anna pulled the cover off a dish. “Rice pudding. Isn’t that your favorite?”

Desford looked at the rice pudding with a longing expression. “Does it have sultanas?”

“Lots,” Anna said, scooping up a huge bite and putting it in her mouth. She chewed slowly, such a blissful expression on her face that Anthony chuckled. “Mmmmm.” She swallowed. “I must tell Cook that she’s outdone herself.”

The gentle breeze lifted a tendril of Anna’s hair and wafted the scent of cinnamon through Anthony’s window.
He leaned against the window casement and watched as Desford slowly, slowly reached for his book and paper.

Anna ignored the child, merely refilling her dish when she finished the rice pudding. “You’d best hurry,” she said, looking at the bowl thoughtfully. “There’s not much left.”

Desford swallowed, then looked down at his paper. His brow creased. Slowly, by degrees, he began to work. Anthony noticed that Anna didn’t eat anything else, but sat quietly, her face lifted to the sun, a slight smile on her face.

Moments passed and finally Desford shut his book. “There. I finished.”

“Excellent! Now come and eat. Here is some pie. And look, I saved two tarts for you.”

He stood by the table, but didn’t take his seat. “Don’t you want to look at my work?”

She appeared surprised. “Why?”

“To see if I did it correctly.”

“Did you try to do it wrong?”

“No, but…I don’t know. I just thought you’d want to see it.”

“Desford, if you said you did your work, then you did it. And if you made a mistake, I’m sure it was an honest one. We’ll look at it together, once we’ve eaten.” She flashed a smile. “I’m not sure I can vouch for the tarts if you don’t hurry. It was difficult enough to resist the rest of the rice pudding.”

A slow grin broke out on Desford’s face and he joined Anna at the table. Soon they were passing dishes back and forth. Anna said something in a low tone and Desford broke into a rusty laugh. Anthony leaned further out the window to hear their conversation and hit the casement with his shoulder. It creaked in an annoying fashion and Anna’s silver-gray gaze lifted to the window.

Instinct made Anthony step aside. He found himself pressed flat against the curtains, the wall at his back. Feeling like a fool, he stepped away and toyed briefly with the idea of closing the window, but the memory of Anna’s bright gaze made him hesitate. She wouldn’t appreciate any interference from him, not after the way he’d snapped at her yesterday.

The memory made him wince. He’d reacted like a beast, but he hadn’t liked to hear her say that he was wrong in his dealings with Lady Putney. That harridan was damned lucky he didn’t toss her out on her ear. Anna’s belief that he should actually be polite to such a constant thorn in his side was ludicrous.

Of course, he had been wrong to allow Lady Putney to believe that there was something more between him and Anna…he should have put a stop to that nonsense right away. But somehow, it had annoyed him the way Anna had immediately denied the association. She was the most insufferable female he’d ever met.

Desford’s laughter drifted through the window again and Anthony wondered if it was safe to look outside once more. He tiptoed to the window, then stopped.

Bloody hell, what was he doing hiding in his own library curtains like a thief? Greyley House was his, damn it, and if he wanted to look out of the windows, then he could.

He was still standing to one side of the window, debating the merits of joining Anna in the garden or sending a note for her to come to him, when a voice rang out from behind him. “Do you always make it a habit to spy on your employees?”

Anthony closed his eyes and sighed. “Only when they have red hair,” he said, before turning to face the very person he thought was still sitting in the garden below him.

But Anna was much closer than the garden; she stood in his library, arms crossed under her chest, a stern frown on her face. “Greyley, what are you doing?”