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 himself 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.”