Tall, auburn-haired, and elegant, with a nose as bold as her spirit, she was a true Thraxton. Every blessed inch of her.

“There you are,” she said, her smile warming the whole room. “I was wondering where you’d disappeared to.”

“I’m sitting here, dying of thirst.”

“More likely you were smoking one of your nasty cigarillos.”

He almost returned her smile, but caught himself in time. Thank God his granddaughter wasn’t a prude. He wouldn’t live with anyone who spouted mealymouthed morality. If he had any complaints, it was that Anna had inherited his own outspoken tenacity along with her grandmother’s overly generous heart. As a result, once his granddaughter took it into her head to help someone, neither heaven nor high water would turn her from her mark.

Sir Phineas wished she’d find someone more worthy than he for the focus of her astounding efforts. It would help if it were someone well established. Perhaps even wealthy.

He folded his mouth in what he hoped was a hurt expression. “How can you accuse me of smoking? Didn’t I promise I would quit last Christmas?”

“So you did, although you were quite careful not to tell me exactly when you were going to quit. I’ve caught you doing it a total of seventeen times since.”

“Unfeeling, disrespectful girl.”

“Rude, bamboozling grandpapa,” she said, taking the seat opposite his with a grin.

“Don’t try to cozen me,” he said, though he was more than a little pleased that she was in such good spirits. “I might look old, but I’m as sharp as a quill.”

“So you keep telling me.” She eyed him from head to toe. “I vow, but you look fresh this morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Like a rock. Didn’t even hear you return. Tell me, how was the soirée last night? You didn’t stop by to see me when you returned, as you usually do.”

Her gaze shuttered immediately. “It was lovely.”

Was it, indeed? Sir Phineas leaned back in his chair. “Any interesting gossip to be heard at the refreshment table?”

She shrugged, but volunteered no more information.

Sir Phineas waited patiently. When his granddaughter did nothing more than stare down at the tips of her slippers, he said, “Come, child. I want the latest gossip, descriptions of which women wore the most diaphanous gowns, and which men made asses of themselves. It’s the least you can do since I was unable to attend myself.”

Anna stood and went to wind the clock that graced the mantel, her face carefully averted. “There was one thing…”

“Yes?”

“Lord Northland. He tripped and spilled my orgeat.”

Sir Phineas looked at Anna’s hand, which was bunched about the clock key so tightly that her knuckles shone white. Damn it all, he should have been with his granddaughter and not tucked into bed like an invalid. “I hope you drew his cork.”

The air of tension eased a bit, and she turned to smile at him over her shoulder, a look of great satisfaction softening her face. “Nothing so dire as that. Just a little orgeat up his nose. I think I made my point rather nicely.”