He stood by the table, but didn’t take his seat. “Don’t you want to look at my work?”

She appeared surprised. “Why?”

“To see if I did it correctly.”

“Did you try to do it wrong?”

“No, but…I don’t know. I just thought you’d want to see it.”

“Desford, if you said you did your work, then you did it. And if you made a mistake, I’m sure it was an honest one. We’ll look at it together, once we’ve eaten.” She flashed a smile. “I’m not sure I can vouch for the tarts if you don’t hurry. It was difficult enough to resist the rest of the rice pudding.”

A slow grin broke out on Desford’s face and he joined Anna at the table. Soon they were passing dishes back and forth. Anna said something in a low tone and Desford broke into a rusty laugh. Anthony leaned further out the window to hear their conversation and hit the casement with his shoulder. It creaked in an annoying fashion and Anna’s silver-gray gaze lifted to the window.

Instinct made Anthony step aside. He found himself pressed flat against the curtains, the wall at his back. Feeling like a fool, he stepped away and toyed briefly with the idea of closing the window, but the memory of Anna’s bright gaze made him hesitate. She wouldn’t appreciate any interference from him, not after the way he’d snapped at her yesterday.

The memory made him wince. He’d reacted like a beast, but he hadn’t liked to hear her say that he was wrong in his dealings with Lady Putney. That harridan was damned lucky he didn’t toss her out on her ear. Anna’s belief that he should actually be polite to such a constant thorn in his side was ludicrous.

Of course, he had been wrong to allow Lady Putney to believe that there was something more between him and Anna…he should have put a stop to that nonsense right away. But somehow, it had annoyed him the way Anna had immediately denied the association. She was the most insufferable female he’d ever met.

Desford’s laughter drifted through the window again and Anthony wondered if it was safe to look outside once more. He tiptoed to the window, then stopped.

Bloody hell, what was he doing hiding in his own library curtains like a thief? Greyley House was his, damn it, and if he wanted to look out of the windows, then he could.

He was still standing to one side of the window, debating the merits of joining Anna in the garden or sending a note for her to come to him, when a voice rang out from behind him. “Do you always make it a habit to spy on your employees?”

Anthony closed his eyes and sighed. “Only when they have red hair,” he said, before turning to face the very person he thought was still sitting in the garden below him.

But Anna was much closer than the garden; she stood in his library, arms crossed under her chest, a stern frown on her face. “Greyley, what are you doing?”