An Affair to Remember

by Karen Hawkins

  “How intriguing,” she replied flatly.

  “I daresay you don’t care what I think of your clothing. Still, I demand an explanation. Women never dress without thought.”

  “This gown is proper attire for a governess. And that, my lord, is exactly what I am.”

  “Ah. I see what this is. It’s about that kiss.”

  Conceited ass. “It’s about our relationship. What happened yesterday can never happen again. It was…inexcusable.”

  He frowned. “I thought it was pretty damned good, myself.”

  A conceited, arrogant ass. Anna smiled through her teeth. “I daresay you did. However, for purposes of our ability to work together in a professional, courteous atmosphere, we must remember our roles. I am the governess, and you, Lord Greyley, are my employer. Kisses are not permitted.”

  Anthony had passed the entire carriage ride on the way there practicing a curtly worded, but beautifully adept speech voicing that exact same opinion. So he should have welcomed Anna’s attempt to draw the lines he’d so carelessly crossed. But strangely enough, he didn’t. Instead, her attempts to put him off made him want to get closer, if for no other reason than to prove that he could.

  He rubbed a finger along his bottom lip, savoring the memory of that one, brief kiss. “We’re to share no kisses at all?”

  “None.”

  Some imp of madness urged him on. “Not even at Christmas? Under the mistletoe?”

  Her back stiffened with annoyance and she said with great finality, “Not even then. Not that it matters, for I don’t plan on being at Greyley House during Christmas. If all goes well, I will be done by November, at the latest.”

  He almost felt sorry for the children, facing such a determined governess as Miss Thraxton. She was an intriguing combination of certainty and challenge. Had he any manners at all, he would have let her be. But there was something about the way she stood, all prim and proper, as if she were a good deal better than he, that irked him to death.

  She probably was a good deal better than he, he conceded fairly. He doubted Anna Thraxton had done anything more reprehensible in her short life than utter an occasional curse, and he’d been the cause of most of those. The truth was that the mere thought of that damnable kiss had been irritating him since yesterday.

  The entire incident had caught him unawares. But there was no denying his reaction, one so strong that it lingered with him even as he went to bed last night and caused him all sorts of heated, erotic dreams, all of which featured the prim Miss Thraxton doing a number of not-so-prim activities on, and under, his naked person.

  Anthony wasn’t a man used to dealing with the impossible. He also wasn’t a man given to impulses. His whole life had been dedicated to dealing with the undisciplined actions of his Elliot relatives, and in return his life and actions were focused on precision and discipline. But somehow Anna Thraxton tantalized him. Just the way she looked at him through her thickly lashed gray eyes made him want to beat her at her own game. And right now that game was seeing if she could keep him at arm’s length.

  Still, it wouldn’t do to scare her off. He needed her at Greyley House. “You have my word as a gentleman that I will not attempt to kiss you…unless, of course, you ask me to.”

  “That will never happen.”

  Wouldn’t it? It would be interesting to see what exactly would happen. “Are you ready to leave?”

  “Yes. My portmanteau is in the hallway, as is a trunk.”

  Anthony went to the door and opened it wide. “After you, Miss Thraxton.”

  She swept forward, head held at a regal angle, her stiff skirts rustling noisily as she went. Anthony leaned forward as she walked past. She was so tall, the top of her head was at a level with his eyes. It was unusual that he had such access to a woman and he couldn’t help but inhale her scent as it wafted by. She smelled of lemon and rose, a tempting combination that made him want to linger near.

  He watched as she pulled on her pelisse and briskly ordered her servant to place her things on the carriage. Then, without so much as glancing behind her to see if Anthony was following, she marched outside. He grinned and took his time meandering after her. Perhaps this was indeed the woman to tame the hellions who had invaded his house.

  Despite her misgivings about her employer, Anna couldn’t help but appreciate the luxurious coach. Large and well-sprung, it boasted all the comforts available. No creaking, lumbering conveyance for the Earl of Greyley. This handsome vehicle would never rattle through a tollgate or cause the occupants’ legs to lose their feelings from lack of springs. And even more attractive was the lively black gelding that was tied to the back of the carriage.

  Anna felt Greyley’s approach and she wondered why she let him infuriate her so. He was being deliberately irksome and she detested the way he lagged behind, watching her with that amused, sleepy glint in his eyes that made her yearn to box his ears. But she was a Thraxton and the Thraxtons had never met an enemy they couldn’t subdue.

  “Anna.” Grandpapa’s voice came from directly behind her. “Are we departing already?”

  Anna turned. Grandpapa stood at the bottom step, elegantly clad in black traveling breeches and a frock coat of blue superfine, clutching his gold-knobbed cane in one hand. At his feet sat a portmanteau.

  Anna looked at the portmanteau. “We?”

  “I’m coming with you,” he said, beaming amiably. “After much thought, I’ve decided that a few months in the country would do me a world of good.”

  Good God, no! He had to be teasing…but one look at his face made Anna’s heart sink. “You want to come with me? But…you’ve never asked before.”

  “It’s too cold in this drafty house.”

  “Yes, but…it’s August.”

  “The nights still bring a chill.” He smiled brightly. “Perhaps I might be of assistance in the nursery. I’m very good with children, you know.”

  “You’d be bored to tears. None of your friends will be able to visit and—”

  “Oh, I can correspond with them. I daresay Greyley would even frank my post, wouldn’t you?”

  Greyley regarded the older man for a long moment. “Would you refrain from handing out French sheaths to my servants?”

  “I’ll try to resist,” Grandpapa returned, his blue eyes twinkling.

  There seemed to be an understanding between the two that set Anna’s teeth on edge. “Grandpapa, I’ve already made arrangements—”

  “Cancel ’em.” He used his cane to shove his portmanteau at the waiting footman, who obligingly picked it up and went to strap it to the back of the coach. “I’ve no wish to see cousin Elmira. Boring woman who likes nothing better than to talk about all the dead people she knows.” Grandpapa limped to the side of the carriage and the morning sun touched his pale cheeks. His very pale cheeks.

  Anna frowned. Now that she looked at him, Grandpapa appeared to be limping worse than usual, as well. Was he taking ill?

  The earl’s lazy drawl sounded at her shoulder. “Let him come, Miss Thraxton. Greyley House has more than enough room.”

  “But the governess quarters cannot be—”

  “You won’t be staying in the governess quarters, but in one of the guest suites.”

  She gazed at him with a suspicious stare, but he just shrugged. “The governess quarters suffered a slight accident involving a large amount of very sticky honey and a pillow full of feathers. Therefore, until it is back to normal, you will be in the guest suite. There is an adjoining room that will suit your grandfather well.”

  “There,” Sir Phineas said, hobbling toward the open carriage door. “All settled then. Greyley, will you be joining us in the coach?”

  “I’ll be riding,” the earl said, glancing at the footman who was even now untying the gelding from the back of the coach.

  “If you get cold, feel free to join us,” Sir Phineas said airily, as if he’d just conferred a great honor. “I’ve much to discuss with you regarding the current state of
the linen workers in your part of the country. I daresay you hear a great bit about that.”

  To give the earl credit, only the faintest hint of surprise showed on his face. “I shall look forward to it.” He bowed, then mounted his horse with an amazing amount of grace for someone so large. His gaze settled on Anna and he touched the brim of his hat. “I will see you at Greyley House.” He turned the horse down the street and urged it on.

  Anna watched until he was well out of sight, and then turned to find Grandpapa’s smiling gaze on her. “What?”

  “Nothing,” he said, his smile widening.

  But it was something, she could tell. She always knew when Grandpapa had some devilry in mind. And Anna was bound and determined to discover what it was.

  Chapter 6

  The Earl of Greyley tells the Elliots when to eat, when to sleep, and when to breathe. It’s a pity he doesn’t also tell them when to leave.

  Miss Prudhomme to Lady Bristol after being rudely ignored by Rupert Elliot while taking air in Hyde Park

  Grandpapa lifted the curtain and peered out the carriage window. “It will be nice to be in the country. The earl’s lands are supposedly some of the most carefully kept.”

  Anna’s gaze caught something white on Grandpapa’s collar. She reached over and touched a finger to the smudge. “Rice powder.”

  Grandpapa appeared mildly surprised. “Wonder how that got there?”

  “You know how that got there! You wanted me to think you were ill.” She pulled her handkerchief from her front pocket and placed it in his hand. “Wipe your face. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “No, you should be ashamed that I had to go to such lengths.” He wiped the last of rice powder from his cheeks and said sadly, “It’s as if you don’t like having me about.”

  “Nonsense. Grandpapa, I’ve enough on my plate with Greyley’s charges.”

  “Oh, you won’t have to worry about me,” he said quickly. “I plan to help you every step of the way.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she muttered. She eyed her badly behaved Grandpapa for some moments. “Will you promise me one thing?”

  “Anything, my dear. Just name it.”

  “Promise you will not attempt to embroil Lord Greyley in any of your projects.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.” He tucked her handkerchief into his front pocket, leaving a broad white smear on the dark cloth. “Besides, I already asked and he said no.”

  She suddenly remembered the earl’s comment about the French sheaths. Anna fell back against the squabs and groaned. “You didn’t.”

  “Just once. He wasn’t interested.” Grandpapa smiled as if at some inner, tranquil image. “Or at least, he didn’t think he was interested. But I think he will change his mind.”

  Anna silently conjugated the Latin word for “cease.”

  He reached over and patted her knee. “There, there. I vow I will not say another word to him. Greyley will become an ardent supporter of Thraxton interests without any persuasion from me.”

  “You are mistaken; the Earl of Greyley isn’t a charitable sort of man.”

  Grandpapa pursed his lips. “I wouldn’t say that. He is the head of the Elliot family.”

  “I’ve never heard anything good about the Elliots.”

  “Ah, but I’ve never heard anything bad about Greyley.” Grandpapa nodded wisely, as if he were a sage. “It must be difficult to remain basically good when one is surrounded by a whole family determined to be bad. And so successful at it that they consider it a birthright. It is all the more amazing when you realize how young Greyley was when he took over the family reins. Not even eighteen from what I heard.”

  It always amazed Anna how much Grandpapa knew. If only the Home Office had such connections. “I daresay the Elliots were happy to see Greyley arrive.” Her fingers brushed over the plush velvet carriage seats.

  “They were ecstatic at first. He was young, and they thought him a pigeon ripe for plucking.”

  “I cannot envision the earl being anything as tame as a pigeon.”

  “Ah, but then you know him better than the Elliots. You see, Greyley was raised by his stepfather, St. John, who kept the Elliots at bay until the earl reached his majority. Threatened some of them with bodily harm if they so much as talked to the boy.”

  “Sara has mentioned that her father was very protective.”

  “Which was a pity in a way. It must have been something of a shock to Greyley to realize just how depraved and deplorable his real family was.” Grandpapa absently pulled a rather crushed cigarillo from his pocket and rolled it between his fingers, the breeze from the open window wafting the pungent scent through the carriage. “Born an Elliot but raised a St. John. An interesting juxtaposition—knavery and honor. I wonder which he fights the most.”

  Anna couldn’t picture Greyley wrestling with such weighty thoughts. If there was one thing she knew about the earl from witnessing his actions during his sister’s impetuous marriage, it was that Anthony Elliot’s besetting sin was pride. Anna supposed it was possible that she’d missed some of his finer traits, though time would tell. She’d have ample opportunity to study him in the ensuing months. The thought lightened her mood, and it was with a sense of anticipation that she waited for the appearance of Greyley House.

  After several hours, the carriage rumbled through a wide iron gate, the road falling away to the smoother surface of a well-kept drive. “It can’t be much farther,” Anna said, leaning forward to look out the window. “We’ve made excellent time.”

  “Indeed.” Grandpapa put the cigarillo to his nose and took a deep breath. After a moment, he gave a blissful sigh and, with obvious reluctance, put the cigarillo back in his pocket.

  Anna pretended not to notice. She wondered what the children would be like. They couldn’t be as bad as Greyley made them sound. Still, whatever unpleasant surprises life had in store, Anna could handle them all. She was no stranger to adversity.

  She looked out the window just as the carriage cleared the trees and Greyley House came into view. The vista surrounding the house was idyllic. At the bottom of the hill, a stream happily babbled into a blue pond. From the pond, a smooth green lawn rose in gradual slope that was crowned with glorious oaks. All told, it was the perfect setting for a jewel of a house.

  But instead of a romantic villa or a typical English manor, high on the hillside stood a square-built house with thick, unrelenting gray walls. Stark, with narrow windows and a facade devoid of frills or ornamentation, Greyley House gloomily surveyed the surrounding countryside. Whoever had placed the house had set it so that the afternoon sun dropped behind it, making the manor appear darker and more sinister in the fading light.

  “Good God,” Anna said.

  “Makes me think of a prison.” Grandpapa tilted his head to one side. “But I like it.”

  “I don’t,” Anna said in all honesty. She frowned, rapidly formulating ways to alleviate the problem. “Perhaps the earl could widen the front steps. Or add a portico to hide that ugly door.”

  “That would liven it up,” Grandpapa agreed. He squinted thoughtfully. “Some ivy would help.”

  “And a flower bed or two. Along the lower wall there.” A cacophony of flowers along the pathway leading to the front door would add warmth and color—just the thing to brighten the austere lines of the house. Anna rubbed her hands together, imagining how a small fountain might look to one side of the entryway. Either that or some Grecian statuary.

  Grandpapa patted her knee. “It’s a good thing you’ve come, my dear. It appears you are sorely needed.”

  A wave of certainty flooded through her as she thought of the challenge that lay before her. Greyley House and its inhabitants might be difficult, but she would prevail. There was little that common sense and hard work couldn’t accomplish.

  The carriage rattled to a halt and a footman sprang forward to open the door. Anna dismounted as soon as the man let down the steps, looking around her with amazeme
nt. Now that she was closer, she decided that though the outside of the house was grim, it also possessed a rather stately grace.

  She had just walked to one side of the crushed gravel drive to get a better look at it when the earl cantered up on the black gelding. Dust covered Greyley’s boots and coat, and somewhere along the way he’d loosened his neckcloth, revealing a strong tanned throat, as if he often rode that way. He looked disheveled and devastatingly handsome.

  The earl dismounted and tossed the reins to a waiting groom as an elderly retainer hurried down the steps. “My lord!”

  The earl gave the horse one last pat, then turned to his retainer. “Jenkins. How are you? The hellions chase off any more of the staff?”

  “Only one downstairs maid, my lord. It has been a very good week.”

  “Excellent. I rode by the tenant houses on my way. The new thatching looks sturdy.”

  “Yes, my lord. Mr. Dalmapple was speaking of that only this morning.”

  Anna eyed the earl speculatively. So Greyley paid personal attention to his tenants, did he? That was interesting information. As interesting as Greyley House.

  Greyley turned and met Anna’s gaze. Her excitement bubbled over and she grinned. His brows lifted, and for the barest instant, one corner of his mouth curved as if in answer, his entire face softening. Anna’s heart thumped a welcoming beat and she took an impulsive step forward.

  But then Jenkins made a comment she couldn’t hear, and Greyley turned away. Anna managed to swallow her disappointment, though it was difficult. It was strange, but though she’d seen Greyley plenty of times when she’d stayed with his sister in Bath, he was usually dressed in town clothes. Seeing him here, at his stately manor house, dressed in dusty riding clothes and looking more masculine than any male had a right to…It was different somehow. More…intimate, in a way.

  She forced herself to turn away. She was just a mass of nerves. Traveling always made her famished, and neither she nor Grandpapa had eaten more than a few pieces of toast and jam this morning. As soon as they were settled, she’d ask for some luncheon and—