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 children 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.”