Sara’s mouth dropped open for a full moment before she managed to ask, “You sound as if you were already planning…To whom?”

“Charlotte Melton.”

“Melton. I believe I’ve heard the name, but I cannot place her.”

“That’s because she hasn’t been presented yet.”

Nick’s smothered laugh irritated Anthony almost as much as Sara’s incredulous expression. “Trust me, she’s very mature for her age,” Anthony said in a stiff voice.

Anthony had known since the day he first met Charlotte that she was exactly the type of wife he needed to reestablish the Elliot name. She was well bred, quiet, and demure—the exact opposite of the Elliots. With a little training, he was certain he could mold her into an outstanding countess and a charming companion.

“Good God, Anthony,” Sara said faintly. “Just how old is this girl?”

His jaw began to ache. “Eighteen. She was not able to take her season in London due to the death of her grandmother. I had thought to have the wedding this spring, but I cannot ask her to come here without settling my affairs.”

“No,” Sara agreed, her mouth pinched with disapproval. “You couldn’t launch your problems on a chit right out of the schoolroom. Had you chosen a woman, one capable of dealing with life’s little foibles—”

“I would hardly call five misbehaved children ‘foibles.’”

“Devils?” murmured Bridgeton. “Imps? Fiends?”

Anthony had used all those names and more, but he refused to admit it.

A knock on the door heralded the entrance of Jenkins. He opened the door wide and stood to one side. “Master Desford and Miss Selena.”

A boy walked into the room. Thin and pale, with brown hair that proclaimed his Elliot ancestry, he was tall for his eleven years. A pugnacious tilt lined his jaw.

Anthony looked from Desford to the little girl who stood at his side. Selena was the youngest of the hellions. Only four, she was deeply under the influence of her brothers and sisters. She stood, dressed in a pink gown, sucking on one of her fingers, her face framed by soft brown ringlets, her blue eyes wide and unblinking. No angel could have appeared more innocent.

Anthony frowned at Desford. “Why did you bring her?”

“She wanted to come.”

Sensing a trap, but unable to fathom what it could be, Anthony nodded shortly and gestured to Sara and Nick. “Allow me to present my sister and her husband, the Earl and Countess of Bridgeton.”

Desford bowed just enough to show his indifference. Selena stared with wide eyes, but said nothing.

Anthony stifled a sigh and turned to Sara. “This is Desford and Selena. Or, as I like to call them, The Bane and The Baby.”

Nick grinned while Sara smiled gently at the children. “How do you do?”

Desford looked past Sara to the window beyond, too unimpressed to pretend interest.

Anthony’s jaw tightened. “Enough pleasantries. Desford, I wish to speak with you about the ink on the escritoire.”

“Oh? Is that why you were yelling like a common drayman?” A flash sharpened Desford’s brown eyes.