“But she’ll be listening, won’t she? And that, my friend, is half the battle.”

“Hm,” Anthony said. It was an intriguing proposition, confronting Thraxton and winning his way. Very intriguing, now that he’d thought about it.

“If you want my advice,” Sir Phineas continued in an expansive tone, “I’ve always found women more approachable outdoors. When riding, for instance. I don’t know if it’s the sunlight, or the benign effects of exercise, but women seem to be more receptive when you approach them in a natural element.”

That was the silliest thing Anthony had ever heard. Still…he remembered Anna’s frosty demeanor on his few trips to the nursery in the last few days and decided that Sir Phineas was right; the sunlight and the ease of the situation might serve him very well indeed. If he managed to convince the infuriatingly reticent Miss Thraxton to go riding—just once—he might be able to discover how she was faring in addition to getting that damned schedule out of her. “Miss Thraxton seems to enjoy the mare.”

“Lud, yes. She’d ride for days on end if she could arrange it.”

Anthony hesitated. “If I invited Miss Thraxton to join me for a ride, she might refuse.”

“She might,” Sir Phineas said mildly. “Though I shouldn’t think she’d pass up the opportunity to give her opinion on…your vestibule, for example.” He leaned forward. “She thinks it needs a mural. Mentions it every time she walks through.” The old man’s gaze landed on a wooden box that lay on the surface of the desk, and he brightened. “I say, are those—”

Anthony flipped open the lid and held out the cigarillos. “Have one. My brother Brand gave them to me as a belated birthday present, and I fear they are going to waste.”

“You don’t smoke?”

“No.”

Sir Phineas’s hand disappeared into the box. “Thank you. You are quite generous.” A moment later he headed for the door with a wave over his shoulder. “Until later, Greyley.”

Anthony looked down at the box of cigarillos. Almost half of them were gone. That trickster. He grinned reluctantly and then closed the box and set it on the desk. But Sir Phineas was right about one thing: He did need to keep a closer eye on both Anna and the children.

He found himself back at the window, the garden now empty. He stayed where he was, watching the retreating sun spill across the flowers to warm the bench where she’d sat, until Dalmapple returned with more matters to attend to.

Chapter 15

Some women—the good ones—are like a breath of fresh air, amusing and different and invigorating. The trouble is that it is damnably difficult to capture air and hold it for any length of time.

Lord Jessup to Mrs. Kemble, while playing faro at a gaming hell off James Street

“There you are.” Lady Putney’s shrill voice cut through the large, sunny nursery.

Anna stiffened, glad her back was to the doorway so that the children didn’t see her involuntary grimace. Every morning for the last five days Lady Putney had come to visit, a swath of silk, perfume, and poison, upsetting everyone and destroying whatever calm Anna had managed to instill.