“Who was Matilda?” Elizabeth asked eagerly.

“A milkmaid that Lord Greyley once knew. A lovely, red-cheeked milkmaid.”

“That sounds romantic,” Elizabeth said with a satisfied air. “I want to hear the story.”

“Matilda was not a milkmaid,” the earl growled.

Anna tapped her chin. “How did that sonnet go? I seem to remember…oh yes! ‘Eyes as bright as coal—’”

“Thraxton,” Greyley said in an ominous voice.

“Yes, my lord?” she said, trying hard not to grin and failing miserably. They were wretched sonnets and she could tell he remembered them all too well.

His gaze glinted. “You are incorrigible.”

“Only if forced.”

Lady Putney’s plump face pinched into a frown. “Greyley, who is this Matilda and why don’t you wish the children to know about her?”

“There was no Matilda. Miss Thraxton is merely offering to make up a story,” he returned shortly. He glinted at Anna. “I shouldn’t let you go, but…” His gaze drifted to Lady Putney. “I suppose I shall.”

“Excellent.”

He didn’t seem at all pleased. “You are the most annoying woman I’ve ever met.”

“It’s a gift, my lord.”

“It’s more a curse.” He looked at her for a long moment, then waved an impatient hand. “Oh, very well. Since this is your first day, you may take the children riding. But as soon as you return, I wish to discuss that damned schedule.”

“Of course.” It would be a very short discussion, indeed. There would be no schedule, not while she was the governess. She smiled at Elizabeth, who watched with an anxious expression. “How long will it take you to get ready?”

Elizabeth clasped her hands together. “No time at all!”

Lady Putney stepped forward. “But dearest, I have candy—”

“No, thank you,” Elizabeth said politely. “I want to ride with Miss Thraxton.”

Marian nodded. “Me, too!” She tugged on Anna’s sleeve. “My pony’s name is Friar Tuck. He’s a piebald and he’s very fat.”

To Anthony’s surprise, the comment seemed to open the door, for soon all of the children except Desford were clamoring to speak about their mounts.

Lady Putney watched it all with a fulminating expression. Stiff with disapproval, she finally drew herself up and left, announcing once more that she’d be in her room with the candy.

The children did not pay her the slightest heed. Anthony’s feeling of satisfaction wiped away his irritation. It had been a masterful stroke to secure Anna Thraxton’s service—although he would have to discover exactly how much she knew about the almost forgotten Matilda. Damn Sara for spreading tales.

He’d been nothing but a green one, still wet behind the ears and head over heels in love with the downstairs maid, who’d had the good sense not to return his declared affections. He’d done what any other young male of his station had done at one time or another—moped about the house until his parents were driven to distraction, lost his appetite for almost two entire days, and written an excessive amount of very bad poetry. What a fool he’d been. He hadn’t thought of the curvaceous Matilda in years.