But how could that be? Sara had told Anna of her own childhood, of escapades and pranks, of swimming in the pond and stealing one of her brother’s pocket knives to carve a rabbit out of an old oak stick. How could one of Sara’s own brothers not have had the same experiences? Perhaps it was time Anna wrote Sara another letter.

In the meantime, she had to find a way to convince Greyley to let her establish the routine for the nursery. She was just grappling with this thorny problem when a soft knock heralded the entrance of the butler.

Jenkins bowed. “My lord, Miss Thraxton’s room is ready.”

Anna smiled brightly. “Wonderful! I would dearly love to rest before dinner.” She bustled to the door. “Thank you for your time, Lord Greyley. I truly enjoyed seeing your library.”

The earl lifted a brow, no humor in his gaze. “Running away, Thraxton?”

Anna managed a prim sniff. “I never run. I do, however, walk away from a conversation that promises to spark my temper.”

Anthony almost grinned at her frank admission. He couldn’t help it—she was honest, which was as delightful as it was surprising. In all his dealing with the Elliots, not a one of them had tried that particular tactic. “Then walk away, Miss Thraxton. We will discuss the schedule sooner or later. There is no escaping it.”

Her eyes silvered, humor lurking in the curve of her lush mouth. “We can discuss it after I’ve had something to eat.”

Anthony glanced at Jenkins. “I believe Miss Thraxton is tired and hungry. Please see her to her room and have Mrs. Stibbons bring her a tray.”

“I believe Mrs. Stibbons is already seeing to it.” Jenkins held the door open and bowed. “After you, miss.”

Thraxton gave Anthony a very saucy curtsy and then she left, her skirts bristling as she went. She strode rather than walked, every step vibrating with energy. It was difficult not to picture her trim legs or to ignore the way her gently curved hips swung to and fro beneath her skirts.

The door closed and the latch clicked into place. Anthony shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head. God help him, but there were unforeseen difficulties in letting Thraxton into his house. She was even more stubborn than he’d thought and too damned attractive for her own good.

Not that that was a completely negative thing. He was a man who appreciated feminine beauty. He just wished the woman wasn’t so argumentative. Anthony supposed he couldn’t complain; he’d won her willingness to serve as governess to his wards, though that had cost him plenty. Now all he had to do was clearly demark the lines between Thraxton the governess and Thraxton the busybody.

To his chagrin, he remembered the twinkle in her eyes and a feeling lifted in his chest. It took him a moment to realize it was a chuckle…She was a handful, that one. And it had been a long time since anyone had been able to make him laugh.