Anthony raked a hand through his hair. Damn it, he wasn’t suggesting anything improper, just a ride. What the hell was wrong with that? “Miss Thraxton, I—”

“Lord Greyley, while you are welcome here at any time, you must promise not to interrupt the children’s instruction. It is only fair.”

Anthony found that he disliked being corrected even more than he disliked being dismissed. “Very well,” he said stiffly. “I will leave you to your work.”

With a final nod, he left the impertinent wench where she belonged—tending the hellions in the nursery. Consoling himself with the thought that such duty had to be onerous and boring and massively unpleasant, he strode to the library where he methodically overindulged in a bottle of port.

What had he been thinking, anyway? Thraxton was the governess. In all his years, not since the legendary Matilda, had Greyley even once embarked on a flirtation with a member of his staff. He felt that to do so would be to overstep his boundaries as lord of the manor. Boundaries he took very seriously.

But with Thraxton…it was difficult to remember that she was not his social equal. She walked, talked, acted, breathed, and defied him like a born member of the gentry. Which was what she was.

A true gentleman would never invite one of his employees into taking long, lonely rides across his lands. Even though he had been acting on the advice of her grandfather.

Anthony silently toasted Sir Phineas for his forward-thinking ways. Now there was a man who knew how to deal with adversity. Having lived with Anna Thraxton, Sir Phineas was probably as close to being a saint as any man alive. Anthony toasted the old man yet again. By God, Anthony would heed the old man’s advice and find a way to make Anna go for a ride. It would take wit and cunning, but Anthony was certain it could be done. He mulled over the possibilities as he worked his way through the rest of the port.

Later on, Mr. Dalmapple returned to the library only to take one look at the earl and then prudently closed the door and left. Shaking his head sadly, he went home early for the first time in almost twelve years.

Anthony awoke the next morning with a raging headache and a foul taste in his mouth. God, but he was too old for this. Too old for five children and far, far too old to deal with one cheeky governess.

The door to his room was unceremoniously opened. Anthony cautiously lifted one eyelid to see his brother Brand standing at the foot of his bed. Anthony groaned. “When the hell did you get here?”

“This morning. Aren’t you going to welcome me?”

Anthony opened his other eye and then gingerly swung his feet out of bed. “Do you ever knock?”

Brand dropped into a chair by the fire. “You’d be surprised at the things you can discover by barging into someone’s bedchamber unannounced.”