Dandridge House, London August 1815
Her silk dress rustling delicately, Anna Thraxton pulled
off her left glove and tossed the entire contents of her
glass of orgeat directly into Viscount Northland's leering
face.
To her immense satisfaction, the pudgy lord reeled back,
tripped over his own feet, and landed against a tall
potted plant - the very one he'd cornered her behind.
Leafy plant and damp viscount went sprawling onto the edge
of the dance floor, dirt sliding across the polished floor
as the music in the ballroom came to an abrupt halt.
Anna set her empty glass back on the table and replaced
her glove. "Oh, dear!" she said loudly. "Poor Lord
Northland has tangled his feet and fallen!"
A loud snicker met this statement for everyone knew
Northland was a bumbling fool. A few even knew he was also
an insistent letch who believed the word "no" meant "make
me yours, my lusty lord."
Within moments, his lordship's anxious mother had rushed
to her son's side, a servant had righted the upset plant
and brushed away the loose dirt, and the music had
resumed. Once again, dancers swirled across the floor, and
no one was the wiser that Anna Thraxton had efficiently
dealt with one of London's most irritating toadstools.
"Bloody fool," Anna muttered behind her false smile,
picking up her skirts and stepping over the dazed lord as
his fretful mother patted his wet face with her
handkerchief. That was the problem with being an
unprotected female - and a poor one, at that. She was a
walking target for every dandy with the desire to embark
on a senseless flirtation and she was getting deuced tired
of it.
She shouldn't have come, and she knew it. But she'd had
been unable to turn away from what had promised to be a
truly magical event as the Dandridge's soiree. Lucinda
Dandridge was a particular friend of hers and Anna had
allowed herself to be swayed by protestations of
friendship into forgetting one, unavoidable fact - Anna
Thraxton was no longer a sworn member of the ton.
Her throat tightened, though she managed to keep her smile
rigidly in place. She had once belonged in gatherings such
as this; her name and position secured, her bloodlines as
pure as any one else's. But all that had changed last year
when Anna had been forced to accept employment as a
governess.
She impulsively smoothed her silk gown, her heartache
easing somewhat at the feel of the rich silk beneath her
fingertips. It was a pity she possessed the family
weakness. Despite enjoying the most pragmatic of
characters, she was sadly addicted to fashion and heaven
knew, she did not have the money to support her addiction.
In fact, the blue gown was far more dear than she could
afford. French by design and cut of fabulous watered silk,
it looked wonderful on her tall frame and she knew it.
Still, that did not excuse her for spending money that
should have gone for a new chair for the morning room. A
chair that did not have a ripped cover or a sagging seat
like all of the others.
But somehow, as Lucinda Dandridge's pleas for her friend's
presence at the soiree increased, the need for a new gown
became imminently pressing. Anna had finally succumbed,
reasoning that she could buy a new chair with the income
from her next position - a hazy bit of logic that she was
sure she would find faulty once she examined it in the
glaring light of day and away from the mesmerizing effects
of blue watered silk.
She looked down at the new satin slippers she'd bought to
go with the gown and sighed. No wonder their family was
nigh destitute. Of course, she wasn't totally at fault. A
good deal of the problem lay in Grandpapa's tendency to
disburse their funds on every "guaranteed" investment that
came along. Between Grandfather's spendthrift investments,
and Anna's inability to stay within budget, they had found
themselves in dire straights.
Anna had been forced with a decision - debtor's prison or
employment. The decision hadn't been difficult to make,
but it had hurt, especially the realization that the
second she became a governess, her old way of life was
lost forever.
Of course Grandpapa didn't see it that way. He firmly
believed that their bloodlines protected them from gossip,
though Anna knew better. She straightened her shoulders,
aware that people had begun to stare covertly. Damn
Northland for drawing attention to her; she'd been careful
not to put herself forward, but now . . .
She lifted her chin. Perhaps it was time to leave. She
make her apologies to Lucinda and - a commotion stirred to
life at the door. The crowd parted to reveal Anthony
Elliot, the Earl of Greyley, looking devastatingly
handsome in his formal black attire.
An older woman dressed in the most atrocious pink flounce
tittered excitedly, then said to the woman at her
side, "Oh, look! 'Tis the Earl of Greyley. I didn't expect
to see him here."
Neither had Anna. The earl was on her list of "people one
should avoid at all costs." The half brother of Anna's
best friend, Sara, there'd been an instant antipathy
between Anna and the earl - the kind that made her neck
tingle as if she were standing in a violent storm, in
immediate danger of being struck by lightning. They'd had
more run-ins than she could count, and none of them had
left them on speaking terms.
She watched him stop to greet their host. Tall and broad
shouldered, he looked like a giant among ants, his tawny
hair the color of a lion's mane - amber shot with streaks
of gold. His eyes were the deepest chocolate brown,
fringed by such thick lashes that he appeared half asleep.
But Anna knew that air of sleepy watchfulness was a thin
guise. Beneath that lazy façade was a mind sharp as steel
and as pointed as an arrow's tip. Her gaze flickered past
Greyley's firm mouth to his strong jaw, and then slid down
to where his powerful thighs showed to advantage beneath
the snug black fabric of his trousers. It was a good thing
she disliked him so much, she thought with a faint stir of
approval. She was very susceptible to men with strong
thighs.
"Wealthy, titled, and handsome." The matron in pink
flounce leaned toward a younger dab of a female who stood
at her side. "Straighten up, Lucinda! He might look this
way. He's a good catch, even with all those children."
"Children?" Lucinda said, unconsciously echoing Anna's own
thoughts. "What children? Mama, I thought the earl was
still a bachelor."
"Lud, child, where have you been? Greyley inherited an
entire brood of children. And now that he's awash with
responsibility, speculation is rife that he will wish to
marry. I've heard it said that he's worth twenty thousand
a year, too."
Anna barely refrained from snorting aloud. Greyley might
be worth twenty thousand a year, but he was also the most
arrogant, insufferable, and the most obstinate man to walk
the earth.
Lucinda gasped. "Look, Mama! He's coming this way."
Anna followed the girl's gaze and sure enough, Greyley was
bearing down on them, but his dark eyes were not fastened
on the woman in pink flounce, but on Anna. A trill of
uncertainty touched her and her shoulders lifted of their
own accord.
Why on earth would Anthony Elliot wish to see her? Perhaps
he wanted to speak about Sara. Or maybe-
Dear God, the children. Anna whirled on her heel and
slipped through the crowd, weaving through a crush of
people by inserting an elbow here, a polite smile there.
She circumvented the earl altogether and reached the foyer
as if pursued by the devil himself. Despite the fact that
Greyley was a commanding presence, Anna knew it be some
time before he extricated himself from that crowd of
milling mamas and their dangling daughters.
She reached the safety of the foyer in what must have been
record time. She glanced over her shoulder and saw no sign
of the earl. She called for her carriage, waiting
impatiently until it rumbled up.
Anna was just lifting her foot to climb inside when a warm
hand closed over her elbow. A hot jolt of sensation
trembled up her arm and made her jerk away. Off balance,
she reeled backward, her shoe falling from the foot she
held aloft and landing with a clack on the cobblestone.
Still wobbling, she was caught in a firm embrace and
unceremoniously righted. "Running away?" said a deep,
masculine voice. "I would never have thought it of you."
The warm, smoky timbre of Greyley's voice made Anna
stiffen and she was immediately released. She placed an
unsteady hand on the side of the coach and turned to face
her accuser. It was very difficult to be dignified when
one had to hold one's stocking-clad foot above the muddy
cobblestones, but she thought she managed quite well.
Or, she thought she had, until she found herself staring
into Anthony Elliot's darkly lashed eyes. Pools of melted
chocolate, they made her heart race, her skin heat.
Fascinated, she found she could not look away. "I am not
running anywhere."
He gave the carriage a pointed stare.
"I was just ah, going home. But slowly. I really wasn't
running."
Amusement softened the hard line of his mouth. He waved
the waiting footman away before turning the full force of
his heated gaze back on Anna. "Leaving without your shoe,
Miss Thraxton?"
Anna followed his gaze to where her shoe lay on its side,
looking forlorn and alone on the curb. "I suppose I will
need that."
He picked it up, then turned to her, his eyes almost black
in the faint light. "Get into the carriage. If you attempt
to put your shoe on here, you'll drag your hem in the
muck."
The street was dirty. And they were blocking the entry,
not that anyone else was leaving the ball this early.
Plus, it was her new gown and it would be a long time
before she could afford another. Anna allowed Greyley to
help her into the low slung coach, his long fingers
resting lightly on her arm. Agonizingly aware of his
presence, she found herself savoring his warm, masculine
scent. She settled on the seat and deliberately leaned
away. "Thank you, Greyley. If you'll just hand me my shoe,
I'll-"
A warm hand encircled her ankle. Anna was too shocked to
do more than stare. Compared to the size of his huge hand,
her stocking clad foot actually looked . . . small. Even
dainty. It was a heady experience for a woman used to
hiding her large feet beneath the edge of her skirts.
Greyley slipped the satin slipper over her toes and pushed
her heel into place, a faint smile on his lips. It really
was a pretty foot, Anthony noted with something akin to
surprise. Long and delicately made, it said volumes about
the fact that this was not an ordinary governess, but a
lady of quality. And that was what Anna Thraxton was - a
lady of quality reduced by her circumstances to take on
employment.
But that apparently hadn't prevented her from mingling
with her peers. He'd been surprised to find her at the
ball, not merely because she was now a governess, but
because he had assumed she wouldn't enjoy such a frivolous
activity. It was something of a shock to see her after so
long, looking coolly elegant in pale blue silk that made
her eyes seem an even deeper blue that usual, her vivid
hair attracting his gaze as surely as a lit flame.
Beneath Anthony's fingers, the warmth of her skin seeped
through her silk stockings. Entranced, he slowly slid his
thumb across the slope of her foot, relishing the contact.
A slow, low heat began to build, brushing over him and
leaving a trail of delicate fire.
"I believe my shoe is on." Anna pulled her foot free,
arranging her skirts so that they hid her feet. "Lord
Greyley, thank you very much for your assistance, but-"
"I must speak with you," he said, struggling to regain his
senses. Good God, but the children had indeed driven him
to distraction. He was dizzy with relief at finally
finding a capable governess. "It's urgent." He rammed his
hands into his pockets, ignoring the call from the driver
of another carriage that had pulled up behind them. "We
can't discuss this here. I will call on you tomorrow and
we will discuss this matter then."
Her creamy skin touched with pink. "Lord Greyley, I'm
afraid I cannot-"
"I wish to hire you and I will pay you three times what
you normally charge."
To his chagrin, he thought he caught a hint of something
like hurt in her eyes as she said, "I'm afraid I've
already accepted another position with Lord Allencott. I'm
leaving this week."
"Thraxton, just hear me out. That's all I ask." He saw her
hesitated, 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. But things had quickly come to a head and
Anthony knew that he was willing to stoop to even lower
levels if necessary.
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 stared at her. "You're determined to make this
difficult, aren't you?"
"Greyley, I cannot accept your offer. 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, Greyley. 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. Smiling at such unaccountable
whimsy, Anthony tucked the ring away. He missed his mother
even now, after all these years.
He'd find Chase another night. Tonight was for
celebrating. By this time tomorrow, Anthony would have
London's best governess in his possession and woe betide
Desmond and the hordes. If Anna Thraxton was even half as
good as rumor reported, Anthony was going to win the war.
And winning had become imperative. There was no such thing
as bad blood - only bad behavior. And Anna Thraxton was
going to help Anthony prove it, for once and for all.
Whistling to himself, Anthony turned and made his way back
into the Dandridge's house. Things were finally going his
way.