Charlotte bent her head. “Yes,” she whispered.

Damn it! This wasn’t what he wanted. Anthony took an impatient turn on the terrace, coming to a halt directly in front of her. “I will expect my wife to be obedient, too.”

He tried to imagine saying such a thing to Anna and couldn’t even begin to picture it. She’d have burned his ears with her opinion on that topic.

Charlotte didn’t seem to like it, either. She suddenly stood, arms crossed in front of her, an expression of irritation on her heart-shaped face. “Wollstonecraft was right when she said that society considers women as nothing more than chattels of society. I, for one, do not wish to be a chattel. We will marry, my lord, and I will try to be a good wife, but don’t expect me to—”

“Wollstonecraft?” He couldn’t imagine Lady Melton condoning such a work in her daughter’s hands.

“Miss Thraxton lent me her works.” Charlotte shot him a dark glance from beneath her lashes and tossed her head. “I found her to be very enlightening. Anna has been bringing me books and essays and—”

“That little—” Anna’s morning rides suddenly took on a new meaning. “So the busy Miss Thraxton has been visiting you often, has she?”

“Yes, she has. And I enjoy talking to her very much.”

“I wager you do.”

“She’s been most generous. I wanted to be ready for our marriage. If it weren’t for her I don’t know if I’d have had the strength to—” Charlotte stopped and looked away.

A slow anger simmered through Anthony’s veins, then exploded to a roaring boil. If Anna hadn’t stuffed Charlotte’s head full of nonsense, Anthony was sure he would now be a free man. But thanks to Anna and her tendencies to attend to everyone’s business but her own—He made an abrupt bow to Charlotte. “I’m sorry to leave you, but there’s something I must do.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned on his heel and strode out of the garden, calling for his mount as he went.

Chapter 25

Never underestimate the importance of what a woman says in bed. It’s one of the few places they will tell you exactly what they are thinking.

Lord Nicholas Montrose, the Earl of Bridgeton, to his brother-in-law, Chase St. John, while riding the park at Hibberton Hall

“I have a splinter,” Selena said, holding her finger in front of Anna’s face, so close that Anna couldn’t see anything but a blurry blob.

Anna held the child’s hand away and then grimaced. “You’re going to have to wash those grimy fingers if you want me to see anything.”

Selena stuck her finger in her mouth, pulled it out, and wiped it on her dress. “There. All clean now.”

“That wasn’t what I had in mind,” Anna said dryly. She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped Selena’s hands. “Now let me see.”

She turned the child’s finger this way and that. Finally, frowning, she shook her head. “I don’t see a splinter.”