Richard’s only answer was a choked laugh. Desford threw a pillow at him and then climbed beneath his sheets, where he spent a restless night planning new strategies.

Chapter 13

Lud, you don’t have to tell me about the foibles of mankind. I daresay I’ve slept with every one of them.

Mrs. Fairfax to her niece Viscountess Rundall, while watching the fireworks at Vauxhall Gardens

Mr. Dalmapple stifled a sigh. For the past half hour, he’d attempted to engage the earl in a meaningful conversation on the possibility of building some new tenants’ cottages. Normally the earl would have joined in with enthusiasm; he was a man who took his responsibilities to heart. But this time, he was so distracted that all he did was give faint, monosyllabic answers and stare out the window.

Dalmapple supposed he understood; the earl’s wards were enough to drive any man to distraction. Or drink, for that matter. Dalmapple gave a tiny shudder, glad he was both unmarried and childless. He doubted Lord Greyley was aware of the antics that had been going on between the earl’s wards and the new governess, though the entire staff was abuzz. Abuzz and delighted—they had all been made to suffer for the children’s high spirits, and it was somewhat satisfying seeing them get a little of their own.

He wondered if he should say something to the earl, but then decided against it. Let Miss Thraxton continue her war without bothering the poor earl. She seemed more than capable of handling Greyley’s hellions.

A knock on the door preceded the footman. He crossed to the desk and held out a silver salver. “A note, my lord. From Miss Thraxton in the nursery.”

The earl swooped up the note, and Dalmapple watched his expression. The poor man was obviously tied in knots over the whole affair.

“Damn.” Greyley tossed the note onto his desk. He cast a dark glance at the footman. “Did you tell her that I wished to speak with her today?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And what did she say?”

The footman colored slightly. “I don’t believe I heard—”

“What did she say?” the earl repeated.

“She said she had better things to do than make up a schedule and that if you wanted one so badly—” The footman swallowed.

The earl was clearly stunned. After a brief moment he said, “I see. That will be all.”

The footman bowed, then left, his footsteps muffled by the heavy rug. Dalmapple waited until the door had closed before he delicately cleared his throat. “Is there anything I can do, my lord?”

The earl shook his head. “No. I will handle this matter myself.” He stood and smoothed his coat in an uncharacteristic manner.

Dalmapple frowned, noticing for the first time that the earl was wearing an intricately tied cravat. It was quite unlike Lord Greyley to bother with such, especially when here in the country. “Do you wish me to complete the estimates for the new cottages?”