“That’s because our youngest brother has been giving him trouble.”

“Chase has been kicking at the traces again, has he?”

“And more seriously this time. Marcus wouldn’t give me the details, but he was far from pleased.”

“I’m glad I don’t have such problems. You and Marcus can run your families any way you wish—I like my freedom.”

“If you came here to gloat, then be gone.”

“Actually, I wanted to know if you wished to go for a ride this morning. It’s a lovely day.”

Anthony glanced at the window. Bright sunlight crept through the curtains and brightened the whole room. A brisk ride might clear his head, too. “I would—”

Ledbetter burst into the room. “Pardon me, my lord, but your shoes!” He stopped and pressed a hand to his chest, panting heavily. “They cannot be—but they are! I cannot believe—”

“Damn it, Ledbetter! What about my shoes?”

“They have gone missing.”

Brandon frowned. “Missing?”

The valet nodded. “All of them.”

“Perhaps they have been misplaced,” Brand offered.

“No, my lord. They were all there last night. I polish His Lordship’s boots every night, and last night, when I brought them back, all of his shoes were right where they were required to be. I fear someone has stolen them.”

“That’s odd.” Brand glanced at Anthony. “Who could possibly want your shoes?”

Anthony knew of at least five little somebodies who might think it amusing to steal his shoes. “I’ll strangle every one of those little monsters.”

“Ah, the children. I’ll wager you are right. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless it was Miss Thraxton. Perhaps she harbors a secret passion for you and has taken your shoes and has built a shrine with them in some obscure part of this moldy house.”

Anthony shot him a dark glance. “Aren’t you needed in London?”

“No. And even if I were, I wouldn’t miss this little play for the world.”

Anthony made an exasperated noise. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times that I—” He caught sight of Ledbetter’s averted gaze. “Damn it, we’ll discuss this later. Ledbetter, are there any shoes left at all?”

“Yes, my lord. One pair, but—”

“Bring them out.”

“Yes, but—”

“Now.”

His mouth pinched with disapproval, the valet bowed and disappeared back into the dressing room.

“Why do you think they stole your shoes?” Brand asked, still looking annoyingly amused.

“To irritate me to death.”

“You are quite red. Be careful or they will succeed.”

“I’ll be damned if I let a bunch of ill-mannered hoydens get the best of me. When I see them, I will calmly demand they return my shoes or—” Anthony bit off his thoughts.

“Or?” Brand prompted.

Or what? What could he take from them? The rides they enjoyed with their governess? He suddenly had a picture of Anna returning to the house, her hair tumbling from her pins, that ridiculous hat with the long white feather caressing her cheek. By God, that’s exactly what he’d do. Maybe then she’d ride with him instead.