“Thraxton, just hear me out. That’s all I ask.” He saw her hesitate, and he added softly, “If not for me, then for Sara. I need your help.”

Her generous mouth turned down at the edges. “It is very unscrupulous of you to use my friendship with your sister.”

It was true; he was shamelessly trading on his sister’s friendship just to get an interview with London’s best governess. In the month since Sara’s visit, things had spiraled even more out of control. His life had well and truly become a hell, and here before him, her chin tilted at a mutinous angle, her luxurious red hair curling over one white shoulder, sat his salvation. “Miss Thraxton…” He grit his teeth. “Please.”

Her eyes widened. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“So I did.” A mischievous twinkle lit her gray eyes. “Would you mind repeating it? I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you use that word before.”

Anthony scowled. “You’re determined to make this difficult, aren’t you?”

“Greyley, I cannot accept your offer, so there’s no more to be said.” She tilted her head to one side, a thick curl of her hair swinging forward to rest on the curve of her breast. “Still…I may know of someone who could help. After all, it had to be quite galling for you to seek me out at all. And the fact that you said please—things must be dire indeed.”

A shout arose from the coachman behind them, and Anna nodded as if she’d just made up her mind. “Come and see me tomorrow. Number four, Roberts Street.”

“At ten,” he said quickly. Anna Thraxton might think she was controlling the moves in this game, but she was wrong. “Until tomorrow.” Anthony closed the door and stepped back. The carriage started with an abrupt jar as it hobbled over the cobblestone drive and rolled out into the street. Anthony watched until it disappeared from sight, his fingers still tingling with warmth where he’d cupped Thraxton’s amazingly delicate ankle.

He shouldn’t have touched her in such an intimate fashion, but the opportunity to rattle her was too tempting. He looked down at his hands and thought of her calf as it rested against his palm, curved and firm. The gesture had been innocent, yet erotic at the same time.

Anthony closed his hands into fists and shoved them into his pockets, his fingers catching a round object. He pulled it out and glanced at it. His mother’s talisman ring. He’d forgotten about it. Where in the hell was Chase, anyway?

The thick silver seemed warm in his hand, the strange silver runes gleaming as if just polished. A bittersweet warmth in his chest, he closed his fingers over the circlet. His mother had believed in the power of the ring, but then she’d also believed in fairy sprites that made dew circles in the grass. Shaking his head at such unaccountable whimsy, Anthony tucked the ring away. He missed his mother even now, after all these years.