A pounding on the steps told him that the children were now tramping down the stairs on their way to the stables. As their excited voices faded, he was assailed with the unmistakable sounds of peace and quiet.

Perhaps…perhaps she was right and there were benefits to allowing the children to ride more often. For one thing, it would keep them out of the house and away from Lady Putney’s odious presence. And perhaps, if Anthony was willing to concede this point, he could win some concessions in some other areas. He might even allow Thraxton to set her own schedule for her charges…

After a moment, he realized he was staring blankly into the air, his mind not mulling over his recalcitrant governess, but rather that damnable dimple that appeared in her cheek when she was trying not to grin.

“I’m wasting my time,” he muttered, picking up an imposing stack of correspondence. He flipped through it for some moments, though his mind kept returning to the image of Lady Putney’s face when the children chose to ride with their new governess rather than eat her candy and listen to her spew her poison.

He had to admit that Thraxton was already making a difference. Perhaps he had done the right thing in securing her services. Now all he had to do was keep her firmly under control and everything would work for the best. The children’s behavior would indeed improve and the world would know that being an Elliot did not necessarily mean one possessed the morals of an ill bred barn cat.

Of course, that was easier said than done. Anthony had spent most of his life since he’d turned seventeen managing the Elliots. He’d turned his back on the usual enjoyments favored by a young man of fashion, refusing the invitations from his school chums to prizefights and other delightfully vulgar amusements. He’d walked away from them all in order to bring the rancid ranks of Elliots to heel. And he’d succeeded, for the most part. But the cost had been high. He hadn’t had the time to pursue the usual entertainments.

Not that he’d been a monk, by any means. Over the years he’d warmed his bed with a number of liaisons, each carefully conducted with an eye toward society’s rather ridiculous rules. Anthony had been careful to end any affair where it appeared the woman in question was getting more attached than necessary, which happened far too often for his peace of mind. He’d followed the dictates of society and had escaped even a breath of scandal.

All in all, he’d been gifted with an exemplary life. Oh, he occasionally wondered what it would have been like if his youth had been spent on something more frivolous, and there were times when he looked at the charmed lives his half brothers lived and envied their carefree attitudes. But Anthony had more to prove than they. They had been born St. Johns, while he had only the borrowed mantle, one he was determined to earn. He would show the Elliots the error of their lives and prove to all the world that though he’d not been born a St. John, he’d learned the St. John lessons well.