An ear-splitting shriek rent the air. The huge oak doors of the house flew open and a plump woman came running out, her skirts flapping madly. Her mobcap and the heavy set of keys that jangled at her waist proclaimed her to be the housekeeper as she jounced down the steps and came to a halt in front of Greyley. “Thank God you’ve returned!” she puffed, pressing a hand to her impressive bosom. “We’ve a plague!”
Greyley’s face darkened. “Are the children ill?”
“Lord love you, not that kind of plague,” the housekeeper said. “I’m talkin’ about a biblical plague.”
“Biblical, eh?” Grandpapa murmured from where he was standing beside Anna. “It appears as if we’ve come just in time to see the entire household eaten by locusts.”
The housekeeper waved a hand in front of her heated face. “Frogs,” she intoned. “Large, warty ones.”
Anna almost laughed at the astonishment on the earl’s face.
“How many are there?” he bit out.
“Dozens! And all in your bedchamber. They startled poor Lily nigh to death, they did, when she went into your room to dust.”
“The children,” Greyley said grimly.
The housekeeper clasped her hands together. “My lord, I’m sure they didn’t mean to—”
“Where’s Ledbetter?”
“That fribblin’ valet went screamin’ like a banshee, he did. Says he cannot abide such slimy creatures, jumping here and there and nestin’ in your private linens—”
A loud yell sounded from inside the house, followed by a solid thud and a crash. The housekeeper gave a faint shriek. “I do hope that wasn’t your new vase! The one you sent from London with instructions to keep it from the children.”
“Damn it! That was a Roman urn.” Greyley turned and strode up the steps. “Mrs. Stibbons, send a footman to my room with a bucket.”
The housekeeper struggled to keep pace with him. “Yes, my lord. I’ll keep an eye out for the children, too. Ledbetter saw them peeking ’round the door and he chased them through the house. Almost caught the wee one, he did. Haven’t heard a peep out of them since.”
Anna gathered her skirts and dashed up the stairs. Here was her chance to establish herself with her new charges. “Lord Greyley! We should speak before you talk to the children about this latest occurrence. In my experience, the best way to handle a situation such as this—”
He came to a sudden halt on the top step. Anna almost careened into his back, tottering for a brief moment on the step below him. When she regained her balance, she found him staring down at her, a determined expression on his face. “Miss Thraxton,” he said in that low, threatening drawl, “as much as I appreciate your offer of assistance, my relationship with my wards is my concern and not yours. Your sole responsibility is the nursery and what goes on inside those four walls.”
“I thought you wished me to bring the children to a more orderly manner of behavior overall and not just inside the nursery.”
“If the children were competently dealt with in the nursery, their behavior would improve in other areas.”
“Nonsense.”
He stiffened, his voice turning deadly quiet. “I am not going to debate this with you. I have far more important things to see to.” He turned on his heel and took the remaining steps two at a time.
Anna started after him. “Lord Greyley, wait! If you will stop being so obsti—”
Something caught her arm just as she was lifting her skirts to sprint up the remaining stairs. Anna turned to find Grandpapa at her side.
He let go of her arm with an apologetic smile and then leaned forward to whisper, “I’m not one to interfere, but you should remember that a man like Greyley is all pride. He will not respond well to anyone making suggestions about his behavior in front of his servants.”
Anna looked over Grandpapa’s shoulder and saw how the butler and housekeeper were both leaning forward at unnatural angles in an attempt to hear what Grandpapa was saying.
Her face heated. She straightened and said loudly, “Yes, I’m a bit tired as well.”
Mrs. Stibbons bustled forward. “Poor thing! Come along, miss. If I know His Lordship, you’re not only tired, but starving as well. Didn’t think to order a luncheon on the road for you, did he?” The housekeeper sailed past them and on into the foyer, chattering over her shoulder as she led the way.
Surprisingly, the inside of Greyley House was as pleasant as the exterior was forbidding. The entryway lacked a certain warmth and light, but the walls were covered with lovely paneling, and the marble floors were stunning.
The only jarring note were the ornament choices, some of which Anna wouldn’t have hesitated to call daunting. Ornaments such as the two ancient sets of armor that seemed to scowl fiercely from each side of the huge, somber mahogany staircase. She placed a hand on one of the monstrosities and sent a telling glance at Mrs. Stibbons. “Greyley?”
“Lord, yes. He dotes on those things, he does, though I’ve told him time and again that the front foyer is no place for such.” The housekeeper turned to the butler. “His Lordship wished us to show Sir Phineas and his granddaughter to their rooms.”
Jenkins bowed. “Miss Thraxton will wish to see the nursery, as well.”
Mrs. Stibbons plumped her hands onto her hips. “Why would Miss Thraxton wish to see the nursery?”
“Because she is, I believe, the new governess.”
Mrs. Stibbons turned to stare, her wide gaze taking in Anna’s stiff bombazine gown for the first time. “Lord help you, miss. Are you certain you don’t wish to lie down just awhile?”
A look of pain crossed Jenkins’s face at the housekeeper’s forthright manner, but Anna just smiled. As a governess, she’d come to value servants who included her—they were often able to provide insights that the owners of the house could not. “Thank you, but I’m in no need of a rest. In fact, I believe I’d like to wait here so that I can speak with His Lordship.”
The butler bowed. “Yes, miss. The blue sitting room is this way.” He turned and trod to one of the many doors that populated the huge entryway and opened it. “I will have some tea brought.”
“And some of Cook’s scones,” Mrs. Stibbons said. She looked shrewdly at Grandpapa. “You, my lord, look a mite knackered, if you don’t mind my sayin’ so. Perhaps you’d like to rest afore dinner? I’ll have a tray brought to your room.”
“That would be lovely.” He shot a glance Anna’s way. “Go easy on poor Greyley. It must be unnerving to return home to find yourself beset with a biblical plague.” He smiled and then limped away, following Mrs. Stibbons who talked unceasingly all the way up the imposing staircase.
Anna, meanwhile, followed Jenkins into the sitting room and smiled at him when he withdrew, quietly closing the door behind him. The chamber was large and well lit by a series of narrow windows. Heavy mahogany wainscoting edged the room and echoed the rich red tones of an Aubusson rug, while a large marble fireplace stood at one end of the room. Still, as attractive as the room was, it had a certain unfinished feel to it.
Perhaps it was the furnishings. Placed here and there about the room was an assortment of chairs and benches of varying ages, most of them appearing very, very old, though none of them truly matched.
Anna trailed her fingers along the edge of a small table inlaid with ivory and made a face at herself in the reflection. “Admit it; you’re too excited for your own good.” Her reflection beamed back at her and she gave a soft laugh.
It was always this way when she took a new position. The opportunity to prove herself was exhilarating. And Anna found children far more pleasant than most adults she knew. Children had faults she could understand: they were painfully honest, given to blurting out whatever wayward thought they had in their heads regardless of where they were or who they were with; they possessed vivid imaginations and a yearning for adventure, which made it very difficult for them to concentrate on the more mundane considerations of their schoolwork; and they had an innate
frustration whenever things didn’t immediately go their way. All told, Anna understood children very well indeed.
Furthermore, since she was usually asked to attend to the less settled children, Anna had become adept at discovering the sources of their unease. It wasn’t all that difficult since she spent a great deal more time with her charges than most governesses. If there was one thing her experience had taught her, it was that most problems came from the family itself, and not just the recalcitrant child.
She wondered what Greyley’s charges were like and why they had been acting so inappropriately. Trying to ease her tumultuous thoughts, she walked to a high-backed chair that sat before the fireplace and ran a hand over one of the arms. The seat was covered in ancient purple velvet, the wooden back and arms decorated with delicate ivy leaf carvings. She traced one leaf with the tip of her finger and wondered what she should say to Greyley. If she were to help the children, she would have to win his support. She sighed and wished she could speak to Sara. Of all the St. Johns, Sara was the closest to Anthony. Perhaps she would have some insight.
Things were already looking up. Or they were, if only Greyley would cooperate. Anna was determined to succeed in bringing the children to order. She’d do it if she had to employ witchery of some sort. Grinning a little at her absurdity, she trailed her fingers over the worn red velvet seat of the chair nearest to her, marveling at its smoothness. Almost as smooth as Greyley’s voice when he was pleased about something. The untoward thought sent a shiver down her spine.
“Miss Thraxton,” the low voice she had been imagining drawled from behind her. “Jenkins said you wished to speak to me.”
Anna steeled her nerves and pasted a pleasant smile on her lips as she turned to face her employer, the irascible, aggravating Earl of Greyley.
Chapter 7
They say the Earl of Greyley never invests without first making a list of all possible outcomes, for better or worse. No wonder the man’s never married.
Lady Bristol to Viscount Evanstock, while dancing a country dance at Almack’s
Greyley stood leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his massive chest, his heavy-lidded eyes watching her intently. “Do you like the chair? I bought it at a private auction just last month.”
The chair? Anna realized her hand was still on the velvet seat. “It’s lovely.”
“It was King Henry the Eighth’s favorite, one he inherited from his own father. Try it. It’s very comfortable.”
She pulled her hand away and tucked it behind her, amazed at the thought that her fingers had just touched the same place a king’s bottom had once rested. Imagine that. And Greyley wanted her to sit there.
Anna wasn’t a small woman and she would be damned if the first thing she did while in Greyley’s house was break his favorite chair. “No, thank you. I am quite fine standing—”
“Sit.” Greyley shoved himself from the door facing and walked toward her, every movement lethal in some way. “It will hold you. It was built in a time when function was first, and style last.”
The chair did look rather sturdy. Sturdier, in fact, than much of the furniture that graced the salons and drawing rooms in London. Still…she met his gaze and then admitted, “I don’t wish to break it.”
“How much to do you weigh?”
“It doesn’t matter how much I weigh. Greyley, we should discuss the children. It has dawned on me that perhaps you don’t understand—”
“I understand all too well.” His dark gaze swept over her. “I’d guess you were about eight stone?”
Anna stiffened. “We should discuss something else. Something more pleasant.” Like having a tooth extracted. Or perhaps the fact that horses always smelled the worst when pulling a romantic-looking carriage.
He lifted a brow. “Nine stone then, just to be on the safe side. Not that it matters. I weigh far more than you and the chair holds me fine.” He walked past her to sit in the chair. Once there, he crossed his arms and then looked up at her with a superior expression. “See? It didn’t even creak.”
Anna’s heart gave a strange lurch. He looked so appealing, sitting so close—almost at eye level, a twinkle lurking deep in his brown eyes. She was amazed to discover that he had the same long lashes that belonged to his sister, Sara. Thick and dark, they hooded his gaze, sweeping low and tangling at the corners.
Good God, I must be more tired than I realized. She didn’t care how long Greyley’s lashes were. Or how incredibly well shaped his mouth was. What she needed was a warm bath and a good meal, and she’d forget what particular shade of brown his eyes could deepen to. She’d pay no attention to the way his hair, the color of ripe honey, contrasted so vividly with his tanned skin. She’d be completely oblivious to the shape of his powerful thighs where they stretched against—
He stood and gestured toward the chair. “You try it.”
At least he was no longer at eye level. Of course now his strong neck was right where she could examine it, even touch it if she so desired. She imagined what he would do if she reached out and traced her fingers down his jaw, to the strong cords of his throat. Her stomach quaked at her disgraceful thoughts and she sank into the chair just to put some space between them.
To her surprise, the seat was astonishingly comfortable. The back supported her well, the legs didn’t so much as tremble, and the red cushion was even plumper than she realized. “It’s delightful.”
He sent her a ghost of a smile, then turned toward the window and opened the drapery a bit wider. The sunlight caught his hair and made it appear even more golden. “I’ve been attempting to transform Greyley House into a proper home since the day I moved in, almost seventeen years ago.”
“It’s very striking.” She looked around the room, admiring the crown moldings. “The outside is a bit austere but in here…it’s lovely.”
He looked at her as if measuring her for more than her weight. “Yes, it is. Not every person can see that.” He leaned his arm against the green marble mantelpiece and shoved his other hand deep in his pocket, his gaze never leaving her. “When I was a child, I used to come here every Christmas. It was the only time I saw my Elliot relatives.”
“I daresay the house looked vastly different then.”
“It looked just like the Elliots—ramshackle and falling apart. I’ve fixed all the structural damage, of course. Now it’s a matter of aesthetics. There is little I can do to remedy the outside, not without losing some of the heritage. But in here…” He looked around at the intricate molding that graced the walls and the complex wood trim that decorated the window frames. “One day it will look the way it should.”
He gazed at the room, his expression serious, his hair golden against the wainscoting. There was something almost endearing about him, as he stood there, contemplating the changes he’d wrought in his house. She sensed the quiet confidence of ownership in his gaze, and something more. Pride, perhaps.
Suddenly aware that she was staring at him like an awestruck housemaid, she stood and cleared her throat. “I hope you’ve captured all the frogs in your bedchamber. Have you dealt with the children yet?”
He shrugged, his expression closing. “Mrs. Stibbons’s plague turned out to be only eleven frogs in number, and most of them very small and very glad to return to the pond.”
“How fortunate.” Anna smoothed her dress. “Lord Greyley, we should take this opportunity to establish a few things. If you wish to see a long-term change in the children’s behavior, then we must work together. Perhaps we should—”
He held up a hand. “I expected this.”
“Expected what?”
“Thraxton, let us understand one another. I do not need a governess to tell me how to deal with my own wards. Any more than you need me to tell you how to teach Latin. You do your job and I will do mine. The problem with the children is that they have had too little discipline in the schoolroom.”
A flash of pure irritation stabbed Anna. She managed a very frosty smil
e. “Lord Greyley, it is painfully obviously that the children are out of control. If they were not, you would never have begged me to take this position.”
The earl gave a quick frown. “I did not beg. I asked.”
“Need I remind you that you traded me away from Lord Allencott, a man you openly call a bore, in exchange for a week of hunting? I would hardly call that the efforts of a sane, logical man. You were desperate. Admit it.”
“I admit nothing except that you are here and you will confine your efforts to the children and leave me be.”
Anna swallowed a sharp retort. Anthony Elliot was the most obstinate, self-opinionated jackass of her acquaintance. And sadly, having been a governess, she’d had the misfortune to meet far more jackasses than the average woman. “Perhaps it is a good thing we’re getting all this out in the open now. Exactly what do you see as my responsibilities, Lord Greyley? Beyond Latin, that is.”
He gave an easy shrug. “You are to instruct the children to the best of your ability.”
“And?”
“You will also give them a basic understanding of comportment.”
“But only in the nursery.”
“Whatever you teach them in the nursery will carry over. Or it will if it’s done properly.”
Anna opened her mouth to respond, but Greyley continued. “Furthermore, you will see to it that they are busily employed, follow their schedule, and—”
“Schedule?”
“Yes. I developed it after the third governess left. It is the only thing that keeps the children in check.”
Anna managed a frigid smile. “I see. And where on this schedule did it read ‘put frogs in master chamber’?”
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Do you always use sarcasm when talking to your employers?”
“Only when they will not listen to reason. Greyley, I’m known as the best governess in London because I know how to deal with children, and not because I smile and nod every time my employer says a word.”
An Affair to Remember Page 8