“That’s true,” Marian said, looking at the earl’s feet. “We just moved them.”

Anna rubbed a hand over her mouth to cover a grin. The earl looked so ridiculous wearing the small tasseled shoes.

“Where are my shoes?” Greyley asked again.

The children looked at Selena. Anna stooped down so that she could see into the child’s eyes. “Selena, did you take the earl’s shoes?”

Selena beamed pleasantly. “Richard helped me.”

Anna glanced at the silent boy, who stared stoically ahead, his face pale and set. He appeared so rigid with fear and emotion that Anna could not find it in her heart to be angry. She sighed and turned back to Selena. “Where are the earl’s shoes?”

Selena pointed vaguely away from the house. “There.”

Seething, Anthony followed the direction of her pudgy arm, across the lush expanse of lawn to the spreading oaks that trailed down to the—His gaze halted, his temper flaring. Damn it. “The pond.”

Elizabeth dropped the book. “Selena! You were just supposed to put them under something, where they couldn’t be seen.”

“We did put them under something,” Selena said, frowning at what she obviously considered a silly comment. “We put them under the water.”

Anna leaned toward the small girl. “Selena, you didn’t throw all of His Lordship’s shoes in the pond?”

Selena sucked on her finger, her brow wrinkled in thought. “Not all of them.”

Anthony relaxed a little. That was something, at least, he thought.

“Where are the shoes you didn’t toss in the water?” Anna asked.

The little girl pointed to Anthony’s feet. “Marian said they were too ugly to borrow, so Richard and I left them in the closet.”

Bloody hell. Anthony rubbed his neck. It was almost more than he could bear. Three months ago his biggest care had been the state of the south field. Now he was living in daily fear of waking up trussed and tied like a Christmas goose, his clothing stolen, his favorite horse sold to the gypsies.

“Selena,” Anna said, “why did you throw the earl’s shoes in the pond?”

“To see if his face would get red.” She looked at Anthony. “It did.”

Anthony thought of his new Hoby boots resting in the muck of the pond. Damn it, this was untenable! He opened his mouth to voice his anger, but found a soft hand laid against his lips, halting every thought in his head. Anna had moved to stand beside him. She was tantalizingly near, every feature emphasized by the brilliance of the morning sun.

Her skin was so soft, the faint scent of ink and paper lingering on her fingers. And he could feel where her breast pressed against his arm.

“Remember your bargain with Desford,” she said softly. “No cursing.”

Remember? How was he supposed to remember anything with those spectacular breasts pressed against him? He barely managed to nod, and she gave him a reassuring smile, then turned back to the children.

“How many shoes are we looking for?” she asked the children.