She looked down at the new satin slippers she’d bought to go with the gown and sighed. No wonder their family was nigh destitute. Of course, she wasn’t totally at fault. A good deal of the problem lay in Grandpapa’s tendency to disburse their funds on every “guaranteed” investment that came along. Between Grandfather’s spendthrift investments and Anna’s inability to stay within budget, they had found themselves in dire straits.

Anna had been forced to make a decision—debtors’ prison or employment. The decision hadn’t been difficult, but it had hurt, especially the realization that the second she became a governess, her old way of life was lost forever.

Of course Grandpapa didn’t see it that way. He firmly believed that their bloodlines protected them from all harm, though Anna knew better. She straightened her shoulders, aware that people had begun to stare covertly. Damn Northland for drawing attention to her; she’d been careful not to put herself forward, but now…

She lifted her chin. Perhaps it was time to leave. She’d make her apologies to Lucinda and—a commotion stirred to life at the door. The crowd parted to reveal Anthony Elliot, the Earl of Greyley, looking devastatingly handsome in his formal black attire.

An older woman dressed in the most atrocious pink flounce tittered excitedly, then said to no one in particular, “Oh, look! ’Tis the Earl of Greyley. I didn’t expect to see him here.”

Neither had Anna. The earl was on her list of “people one should avoid at all costs.” He was the half brother of Anna’s best friend, Sara, but there’d been an instant antipathy between Anna and the earl—the kind that made her neck tingle as if she were standing in a violent storm, in immediate danger of being struck by lightning. They’d had more run-ins than she could count, and none had left them on speaking terms.

She watched him stop to greet their host. Tall and broad-shouldered, he looked like a giant among ants, his tawny hair the color of a lion’s mane—amber shot with streaks of gold. His eyes were the deepest chocolate brown, fringed by such thick lashes that he appeared half asleep.

But Anna knew that air of sleepy watchfulness was a thin guise. Beneath that lazy facade was a mind strong as steel and as sharp as an arrow’s tip. Her gaze flickered past Greyley’s mouth to his firm jaw, and then slid down to where his powerful thighs showed to advantage beneath the snug black fabric of his trousers. It was a good thing she disliked him so much, she thought with a faint stir of approval. She was very susceptible to men with strong thighs.

“Wealthy, titled, and handsome.” The matron in pink flounce leaned toward the younger dab of a female who stood at her side. “Straighten up, Mary! He might look this way. He’s a good catch, even with all those children.”

“Children?” Mary said, unconsciously echoing Anna’s own thoughts. “What children? Mama, I thought the earl was still a bachelor.”