“Sara!” he said, a frown resting on his brow. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Nick and I were passing through on our way home and thought to see how you fared.”

To Sara’s chagrin, her brother didn’t appear the least gratified to see her. “How long are you staying?”

Sara frowned. “Only for an hour. But if we’re not welcome, we can leave—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m always glad to have you visit,” Anthony said briskly. Normally, that would have been true. But now…

Six weeks ago, his life had been perfectly ordered, his goals to reestablish the Elliot name firmly in place. Anthony rubbed the back of his neck and tried to ease some of the tension that tightened his shoulders. Perhaps he should purchase an estate in America; he could send the children there. If that didn’t work, there was always India. Anthony suddenly realized Sara was talking.

“—she just stomped off. I cannot believe a governess would behave—”

“Wait.” A sinking feeling weighted his stomach. “Not Miss Turner?”

“Weren’t you listening?” At his blank gaze, Sara made a disgusted sound and came to stand in front of him, tilting her head back to stare directly in his eyes. “We ran into your governess as she was leaving.”

“Bloody hell!” He’d paid a fortune for her and for almost three days, he’d experienced some semblance of peace.

Unaware of his turmoil, or perhaps in spite of it, Sara continued, “Miss Turner is gone. It appeared as if her hair and her fat dog had experienced some sort of accident involving feathers and catnip.”

Damn it to hell! He turned to the door and yanked it open. “Desford!”

Sara’s eyes lit with curiosity. “Who is Desford?”

“The eldest of my troublesome wards,” Anthony said grimly. “He thinks to force me into letting him and the rest of the children live with their grandmother, but he is mistaken. I’ll be damned if I let an eleven-year-old dictate to me inside my own home.”

Rushed footsteps sounded in the hallway and Jenkins appeared. “My lord?”

“Find Master Desford and bring him here,” Anthony ordered.

“Yes, my lord.”

Anthony watched the butler climb the stairs before slamming the door closed. He caught sight of his brother-in-law’s amused gaze. “Don’t say a word.”

“Leave Nick alone.” Sara crossed toward the settee. “Perhaps if you showed a bit more patience, the children would not—” She looked down at her foot. A piece of paper had somehow glued itself to the bottom of her shoe. Frowning, she lifted her foot and yanked the paper free, resting her hand on a small escritoire as she did so.

Anthony started to call out a warning, but it was too late. Her slender hand already rested on the edge.

Releasing the desk, she turned back toward the settee, absently smoothing her gown as she went. “Those poor children are probably frightened to death—”

“Sara,” Nick interrupted, his gaze fastened on her skirt. “Perhaps the children have been more difficult than you realize.”