Revenge In Regency Society: Brushed by Scandal / Courting Miss Vallois
Revenge In Regency Society: Brushed by Scandal / Courting Miss Vallois
Gail Whitiker
Brushed by Scandal After one unfortunate incident in the past, Lady Annabelle Durst knows how easily reputations can be lost. So when accusations of wrongdoings are levelled against members of her family, she automatically resent the man who brought them; believing him to be completely in the wrong. But Sir Barrington Parker doesn’t make mistakes… Courting Miss ValloisMiss Sophie Vallois’s looks and grace make her an instant hit with London Society. No one would know that the French beauty is a mere farmer’s daughter, with no interest in marriage whatsoever. Except Robert Silverton, who has other reasons for staying away from Sophie. Until he finds that than keeping her at arm’s length, Robert soon wants the delectable Miss Vallois well and truly in his arms!
SEDUCTION in Regency Society August 2014
DECEPTION in Regency Society September 2014
PROPOSALS in Regency Society October 2014
PRIDE in Regency Society November 2014
MISCHIEF in Regency Society December 2014
INNOCENCE in Regency Society January 2015
ENCHANTED in Regency Society February 2015
HEIRESS in Regency Society March 2015
PREJUDICE in Regency Society April 2015
FORBIDDEN in Regency Society May 2015
TEMPTATION in Regency Society June 2015
REVENGE in Regency Society July 2015
GAIL WHITIKER was born on the west coast of Wales and moved to Canada at an early age. Though she grew up reading everything from John Wyndham to Victoria Holt, frequent trips back to Wales inspired a fascination with castles and history, so it wasn’t surprising that her first published book would be set in Regency England. Now an award-winning author of both historical and contemporary novels, Gail lives on Vancouver Island, where she continues to indulge her fascination with the past, as well as enjoying travel, music and spectacular scenery. Visit Gail at www.gailwhitiker.com (http://www.gailwhitiker.com).
Revenge inRegency Society
Brushed by Scandal
Courting Miss Vallois
Gail Whitiker
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#ua95e6e58-5245-5adf-9eb4-401e8da2a1c2)
About the Author (#u8f2b2e6a-fdfc-5162-a993-0da21492b9e1)
Title Page (#uccd3e824-a041-57e3-b66a-100e031909cb)
Brushed by Scandal
Dedication (#u46bd2c55-a57f-59fb-b1f1-ea477d3d98c9)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Courting Miss Vallois
Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Brushed by Scandal (#ucab641c8-7305-5f15-8249-575d1e1e8658)
To Mum and Dad, who continue to be an ongoing source of love and support in so many areas of my life. Thank you for always being there.
And to my good friend Lynne Rattray, who inspires me with her joie de vivre and her unflagging sense of humour.
Chapter One (#ucab641c8-7305-5f15-8249-575d1e1e8658)
It was a perfect night for sin. The mid-May evening was deliciously warm, the air sweet with the fragrance of rosewater and violets, and the attention of one hundred and forty-nine of the guests moving slowly through the overheated rooms of Lord and Lady Montby’s palatial London house was focused on anything but the young lady slipping furtively through the French doors and onto the dimly lit balcony beyond.
Fortunately, as the attention of the one hundred and fiftieth guest had been fixed on that silly young woman for some time, the chances of her making a clean escape were never very good. Over the course of the evening, Lady Annabelle Durst had watched the exchange of smiles and glances passing between Miss Mercy Banks and a certain red-coated officer, and, given that the gentleman had recently left the room by the same doors through which Miss Banks now passed, Anna had no doubt that a clandestine rendezvous was planned. A rendezvous that could only end in disaster for one or both of them.
‘Mrs Wicks, would you please excuse me,’ Anna said quietly. ‘I’ve just seen someone I really must speak with.’
‘Why, of course, Lady Annabelle, and I do apologise for having taken up so much of your time, but I really didn’t know who else to turn to. Cynthia simply refuses to listen and I was at my wits’ end, wondering what to do next.’
‘I understand perfectly,’ Anna said, endeavouring to keep one eye on the French doors. ‘Cynthia has always been the most stubborn of your daughters and if you force her to spend a month in Scotland with her grandmother while her sisters are allowed to go to Bath, she will rebel. However, I believe the compromise I’ve suggested should help to alleviate the tension and make everyone feel better.’
‘I don’t mind saying it’s made me feel a great deal better,’ Mrs Wicks murmured. ‘You’re an uncommonly wise young woman for your age, Lady Annabelle. Your father must be very proud.’
Aware that her father would have been a great deal more proud had he been sending word of her upcoming engagement to The Times, Anna simply inclined her head and moved on. There was no point in telling Mrs Wicks that her unwed state was an ongoing source of consternation to her father or that he had offered to settle not only a handsome dowry, but one of his smaller, unentailed estates on her the moment she announced her engagement. Why bother when there was absolutely no one in her life for whom she felt even the slightest attraction?
As for being deemed a very wise young woman, Anna supposed it could have been worse. She might have been called studious or obliging—agreeable, even—none of which truly described her character. Yes, it was true, she had been dispensing an inordinate amount of advice to wilful young ladies and their frustrated mothers of late, but what was she to do when they kept coming to her for answers? Their problems were relatively easy to understand and comparatively simple to fix, even if the parties involved thought otherwise.
As to the hapless Miss Banks, that was clearly a situation Anna was going to have to deal with personally if she hoped to ward off imminent disaster.
The balcony, illuminated by multiple strands of brightly coloured lanterns strung from one end to the other, ran almost the entire length of the house, but one glance in either direction was enough to show Anna that her quarry had already vanished into the gardens. Foolish girl. Did she really believe that the gardens were empty? That no one else had sought privacy in the shadowy follies and Grecian temples sprinkled throughout the trees?
Obviously not or she wouldn’t have allowed herself to be led astray—and Anna had no doubt the girl had been led. Mercy Banks was as green as a leprechaun’s jacket. Barely seventeen, she was in London for her first Season, so it was only to be expected that, upon meeting a young man who looked at her as though she were Aphrodite reincarnated, she would mistake attraction for something deeper.
Anna had been seventeen once, too. She remembered all too well the excitement of looking up to find a handsome gentleman watching her; the exhilaration of his hand casually brushing hers when they drew close enough to converse, followed by the warmth of his breath as he leaned in close to whisper a compliment.
Oh, yes, she knew well the lure of those forbidden bowers. But because she had been prevented from making a mistake by someone who had noticed her infatuation and taken the time to intervene, Anna now recognised the importance in doing the same for others. Unfortunately, as she walked down the stone steps and into the garden proper, she realised she was not the only one intent on locating the wayward Miss Banks. Marching with grim resolve along the gravel path ahead of her was the young lady’s mother, determined to find her errant daughter before some dreadful misfortune could befall her.
Obviously, more desperate measures were now called for.
‘Mrs Banks,’ Anna called in a pleasant but carrying voice. ‘What a pleasure to see you again.’
Mrs Banks, a small, rotund lady wearing a dark green gown and a headband adorned with flowers and fruits of an exotic hue, paused to glance over her shoulder; upon seeing Anna, she stopped, her expression of concern changing to one of pleasure. ‘Why, Lady Annabelle, how nice to see you again. It must be nearly a month since we last had an opportunity to chat. Lady Falconer’s musicale, wasn’t it?’
Anna inclined her head. ‘I do believe it was.’
‘I thought so. Dreadful soprano. I vow my ears rang most painfully for the rest of the night,’ Mrs Banks said with a frown. ‘But what are you doing out here all on your own?’
‘The house was so warm, I thought to enjoy a quiet stroll through the gardens,’ Anna said, keeping her voice light and her words casual. ‘But where is Mr Banks this evening? I take it he did come with you.’
‘Oh, yes, albeit reluctantly. He’s not much into these society affairs, but I told him we must make an effort if we hope to settle Mercy in an advantageous marriage.’ Mrs Banks sighed. ‘For his sake, I hope she finds a husband sooner rather than later. He’s that anxious to get back home.’
‘I’m sure it will be sooner,’ Anna said, heart jumping as she caught sight of a red coat just beyond Mrs Banks’s right shoulder. ‘But I wonder, Mrs Banks, if you’ve seen the new fountain Lady Montby recently had installed over by the reflecting pool? It really is quite spectacular.’
‘I’m sure it is, but at the moment, I am more concerned with finding Mercy.’
‘Really?’ Anna affected a look of confusion. ‘I am quite sure I saw her inside the house.’
‘You did? Where?’
‘Heading in the direction of the music room.’
Mrs Banks rolled her eyes, but Anna noticed a definite softening in the lines of tension around her mouth. ‘I might have known. Someone told Mercy that Lady Montby had recently acquired a new pianoforte and naturally she was anxious to see it. The child is quite musically gifted,’ her mother confided proudly. ‘And while I take care not to compliment her too much, I am hopeful it will help in the quest to find her the right kind of husband.’
‘I’m sure she will do you both proud,’ Anna said, slipping her arm through the older woman’s and turning her around. ‘But as long as we’re heading back inside, why don’t we take a peek at the fountain? It will only take a moment, and then you can carry on and look for your daughter.’
Obviously deciding it was a good idea, Mrs Banks made no demur as Anna led her in the direction of the fountain, which was indeed a spectacular affair, and which, more importantly, was located at the opposite end of the garden from where Anna suspected Mercy and her officer were hiding. Once there, she introduced Mrs Banks to Mrs Wicks, who immediately launched into a diatribe about the difficulties of presenting ungrateful daughters to society, whereupon Mrs Banks said how thankful she was that she only had one daughter to marry off, rather than three.
Anna left the two women happily commiserating with one another and quickly retraced her steps. She was almost at the far end of the path when Miss Banks stepped out, her cheeks flushed, her blue eyes wide with apprehension. ‘Lady Annabelle!’
‘Miss Banks. Enjoying a few minutes alone in the garden?’ she asked pointedly.
‘Yes! That is … no. That is … oh dear.’ The girl looked up and the expression on Anna’s face turned her cheeks an even brighter shade of red. ‘Please tell me Mama didn’t know where I was.’
‘She did not, but only because I suggested you were still inside the house,’ Anna said. ‘If she had caught you and your young man out here together, the consequences would have been dire!’
The girl’s pretty face fell. ‘I know. And I promise I won’t do it again. It’s just that …’
When she broke off blushing, Anna prayed the silly girl hadn’t done anything irredeemably stupid. ‘It’s just that what?’
Mercy sighed. ‘He said it would be all right. He told me … he loved me.’
Of course he had, Anna thought drily. Was a declaration of love not the most common justification for inappropriate behaviour on a young man’s part? ‘Then I take leave to tell you that he had a very poor way of showing it. Has he secured your father’s permission to speak to you?’
Miss Banks looked even more miserable. ‘We have not even been formally introduced. We first saw one another in Hyde Park a week ago, then again at a masquerade two nights past.’
‘At which time he suggested a rendezvous for this evening,’ Anna surmised.
The girl nodded.
‘Then you must not see him again until a formal introduction has been made. Whatever his feelings, asking you to meet him alone in a secluded garden demonstrates the worst kind of judgement,’ Anna said firmly. ‘He must seek a proper introduction and when the time comes to speak of his intentions, he must approach your father and ask permission to call upon you. Please believe me when I say that what he did tonight was not an indication of love, Miss Banks, no matter how much you would like to believe otherwise.’
The young girl bit her lip. ‘No, I don’t suppose it was. But I did so want to see him again … even if only for a few minutes.’
‘A few minutes are more than enough to ruin a lifetime,’ Anna said more gently. ‘You must guard your reputation as fiercely as you would your most precious possession, because right now, it is your most precious possession. Once lost it can never be regained and no one will suffer more for its absence than you. So, no matter what any gentleman says to you, or how sweetly he says it, do not let yourself be tempted into such an indiscretion again.’
‘Yes, Lady Annabelle.’
Anna could see from the expression on Mercy’s face that she had learned her lesson and that the episode would not be repeated. Nor did Anna expect that it would. It wasn’t that Mercy was bad. She was simply young and impetuous, as were so many girls her age.
As Anna herself had once been.
‘And now, we shall return to the house and you will find your mother and endeavour to set her mind at rest,’ she said, leading Mercy back along the gravel path. ‘As for your young man, you are not to look for him again, and, if he seeks you out, you are to tell him you will not speak to him until the two of you have been properly introduced … which I shall endeavour to do later this evening.’
Miss Banks gasped. ‘You would do that for me?’
‘I would, but only if you give me your promise that you will never see …’ Anna paused. ‘What is the officer’s name?’
‘Lieutenant Giles Blokker.’
‘Fine. That you will not see Lieutenant Blokker again without suitable chaperonage. I may not be around to save you the next time.’
‘You have my promise, Lady Annabelle. And thank you! Thank you so very much!’
Upon returning to the ballroom, Miss Banks did exactly as she had been told. When Lieutenant Blokker tried to approach her, she treated him to a look that would have done her crusty old grandmother proud and then went in search of her mother. The young man looked understandably crushed, but Anna hoped it had taught him a lesson. If he truly cared for Miss Banks, he would do whatever was necessary in order to further the connection in the manner of which society approved. If not, he wasn’t worth having in the first place.
‘Do you attempt to save them all from themselves?’ asked an amused masculine voice close to her ear. ‘Or only the ones who don’t know any better?’
Anna turned her head and found herself looking into the face of a stranger. A very handsome stranger, but a stranger none the less. ‘Were you speaking to me, sir?’
‘I was. And pray forgive my boldness, but I happened to be in the garden when you came upon the young lady, and such was my timing that I was privy to most of your conversation with her just now. She is indeed fortunate to have you as her champion.’
His voice was velvet over steel. Resonant, powerful, the kind of voice that held audiences spellbound and sent impressionable young women swooning. Anna could imagine him reciting Shakespeare on the stage at Drury Lane, or reading love sonnets by Bryon or Wordsworth, those low, sensual tones sparking desire in any young woman’s breast.
But was their meeting now entirely coincidental? While she thought him too old for Miss Banks and too casual in his addresses to her, the fact he had been in the garden at the same time as they had, and that he just happened to be standing next to her now, left her wondering.
‘I only attempt to save the ones I deem worthy of saving,’
she replied carefully. ‘The rest I leave to their own devices.’
‘Just as well,’ the gentleman said. ‘Most people sin for the fun of it and wouldn’t welcome your intervention, no matter how well intentioned. Unlike Miss Banks, whose romantic heart would likely have got the better of her had you not stepped in to save the day.’
Anna caught an undertone of amusement in his voice and, despite her natural inclination to be wary, found herself smiling back at him. He was certainly an attractive man. His face was long rather than square, his jaw angular, his cheekbones high and well formed. Intelligence gleamed in the depths of those clear grey eyes and his lips, curved upwards in a smile, were firm and disturbingly sensual. His clothes were expensive, his linen impeccable, and while his hair shone black in the light of a thousand candles, the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes put him closer to thirty than twenty.
No, he definitely wasn’t after Miss Mercy Banks, Anna decided. He could have eaten the silly little chit for dinner and still gone away hungry. But neither was this a casual conversation, of that she was sure. ‘I am undecided as to whether I should be flattered by your comments or offended by them,’ she said. ‘I had no idea my actions were being so closely observed.’
‘A gentleman should never make his attentions too obvious, Lady Annabelle. I pride myself on my ability to observe without being observed—a quality necessary to those who involve themselves in the convoluted lives of others. Wouldn’t you agree?’
Anna’s eyes widened. So, he knew who she was and what she was about. That alone should have put her on her guard, yet all it did was make her more curious. She liked a man who didn’t play games; Lord knew, London society was all too full of them. ‘I fear you have the advantage of me, sir.
You obviously know a great deal more about me than I do about you.’
‘Only because you are more visible in society,’ he murmured. ‘And as much as I regret the inequity of the situation, we both know it would be ill-mannered of me to introduce myself, so I shall wait for the thing to be done properly as you have so kindly offered to do for Miss Banks.’
His words abruptly called to mind the promise Anna had made earlier and her brows knit in consternation. ‘An offer made impetuously at best, I fear. Apart from the officer’s name, I know nothing about the man and have no idea if he is even worthy of an introduction.’
‘Then allow me to set your mind at rest. I happen to know that Lieutenant Giles Blokker is an amiable young man who, despite having behaved with the decorum of a rambunctious puppy, is an excellent catch. His father is Major Sir Gordon Blokker, who distinguished himself with Wellington on the Peninsula, and his mother is the former Lady Margaret Sissely. The boy was educated at Eton, went on to read English and history at Oxford, and, as his father’s only son, he is heir to a considerable estate. More importantly, I believe he is the kind of man of whom both Miss Banks’s mother and father would approve.’
Surprised by the extent of the man’s knowledge and by his willingness to share it, Anna inclined her head. ‘I am grateful for your recommendation, sir. How fortunate that you are so well acquainted with the officer.’
‘In fact, we’ve never met. But one hears a great many things during the course of one’s social day, and if I feel it is information that may be of use to someone else, I am happy to pass it along. I trust that, in this instance, it serves you well. Good evening, Lady Annabelle.’
With that, he bowed and walked away, leaving Anna with a host of unanswered questions tumbling around in her brain.
Who was he, and why did his sudden appearance at her side not seem as coincidental as he might like her to believe? By telling her all he had about Lieutenant Blokker, he’d put her in the enviable position of being able to make the promised introduction, aware that not only might she be introducing Miss Banks to her future husband, but that he was a gentleman worthy of the role. Had he known more about the predicament in which she’d landed herself than he had chosen to let on?
Not surprisingly, Anna found herself watching the handsome stranger as he moved around the room. She noticed that he did not linger with any one person or group for any length of time, but that his gaze touched on every person there, his expression unreadable as he took note of who they spoke to and with whom they danced. Even when he stopped to speak to an upright older gentleman who was clearly intent on engaging him in a serious conversation, his eyes continued in their restless study. Was he was a private investigator of some kind? He looked too aristocratic for such an occupation, but then, perhaps a man who didn’t look the part was exactly the sort of man who should be doing that kind of work.
He’d certainly made an impression on her. For once she’d actually enjoyed having a conversation with a gentleman newly met at a society function. Normally, she was quick to wish them over, knowing all too well what they were really all about.
Is this someone with whom I have anything in common? Do I feel a connection strong enough to spend the rest of my life with him? And, of course, what do we each stand to gain by aligning our families in marriage?
They were all questions Anna had asked herself in the past. And with that one unfortunate exception where the marriage would have been a disaster, the answers were always the same.
No, not likely, and nothing.
But this gentleman intrigued her. She found herself watching for him in the crowd, curious to see how he acted with other people, anxious to catch just one more glimpse of him. Wanting to know if he might be looking back at her.
And when he did and Anna felt her gaze trapped in the soft silver glow of his eyes, she knew it was too late to look away. She had carelessly exposed herself, allowing her interest in, and her curiosity about, a stranger to be revealed. Was it any wonder that when he tipped his head and slowly began to smile, she felt the heat rise in her cheeks and the breath catch in her throat?
Goodness, who would have thought that with just one look, he could make her feel as awkward as a schoolgirl, as young and as gauche as Miss Mercy Banks. Surely as a mature woman of twenty-four, she knew better than to encourage the attentions of a man she’d only just met …
Anna dipped her head and boldly returned his smile. No, clearly she did not. But as she opened her fan and reluctantly turned away, the knowledge that a handsome man whose name she didn’t know still had the power to make her blush was more than enough to keep the smile on her face for the rest of the evening.
‘Parker, have you heard anything I’ve said?’ Colonel Tanner demanded in a harsh whisper.
‘Every word, Colonel.’ Sir Barrington Parker’s expression didn’t change, though he was careful to pull his gaze from the face of the exquisite young woman who had just smiled at him across the room. No small feat for a man who appreciated beauty as much as he did. ‘You wish me to investigate the disappearance of your mistress—’
‘I never said she was my mistress!’ the older man blustered.
‘There was no need. Avoiding my eyes while you described her told me all I needed to know,’ Barrington said smoothly. ‘She is approximately twenty years old, slim, with dark brown hair and rather startling green eyes. The last time you saw her she was wearing a pale blue gown with a white shawl and a bonnet with either blue or black ribbons.’
The older man grunted. ‘Apologies. Just don’t like blathering on to a man who doesn’t appear to be listening.’
‘I wouldn’t accomplish much if I didn’t listen, Colonel,’ Barrington said, though in truth he hadn’t been paying as much attention as he should. Through the mirror on the wall behind Tanner, he had been watching Lady Annabelle Durst attempt to play matchmaker. She had waited until Lieutenant Giles Blokker was in the midst of a small group of people with whom she was obviously acquainted and had sought the necessary introduction. Then, as the other couples had drifted away, she had engaged Lieutenant Blokker in conversation, no doubt with the intent of bringing Miss Banks’s name into the discussion.
At that point, Barrington had seen a look of cautious optimism appear on Blokker’s face, followed moments later by one of genuine happiness. When Lady Annabelle turned and started in the direction of Miss Banks and her mother, the young pup had fallen into step behind her, clearly delighted that he was on his way to being formally introduced to the young lady who had captured his heart.
‘Where did you last see Miss Paisley, Colonel?’ Barrington asked, reluctantly dragging his attention back to the matter at hand.
‘Hogarth Road. I keep a house there. Nothing elaborate, you understand,’ the Colonel said gruffly. ‘Just a place for friends to use when they come up to London.’
Barrington nodded. He knew exactly what the house was used for and it certainly wasn’t the convenience of friends. ‘I shall make enquiries. Where can I reach you?’
‘Best send a note round the club. Wouldn’t do to have anything come to the house.’
Barrington inclined his head. Though most wives knew about their husbands’ affairs, none wanted proof of them showing up at their front doors. ‘As you wish.’
‘Look here, Parker, it’s not what you think,’ the Colonel said, clearing his throat. ‘Eliza’s not like the rest of them. She worked as a lady’s maid in a respectable establishment until the eldest son took a fancy to her. When she was turned off without references, one thing led to another until she ended up in a brothel. That’s where I met her,’ he said, again not meeting Barrington’s eyes. ‘She told me her story and naturally I felt sorry for her, so I asked her if she’d like to come and work for me. I knew Constance was looking for a new maid and I thought it might be a way of getting Eliza back into respectable employment.’
Barrington’s smile was purposely bland. ‘And did your wife agree to take Miss Paisley on?’
‘She did, but it wasn’t long before she realised there was something going on and I had to let Eliza go,’ the Colonel said regretfully. ‘Felt so damned guilty, I offered to put her up at the house on Hogarth Road until she was able to find something else.’
With the small stipulation, Barrington surmised, that she become his mistress while she was there. A gentleman’s altruism only extended so far. ‘It would seem Miss Paisley has much to be grateful to you for, Colonel.’
‘I thought so, which was why I was so surprised when she left without telling me,’ the Colonel said. ‘Bit concerned, if you know what I mean.’
Barrington did know and he wasn’t surprised. Tanner was a decent chap, somewhere in his mid-fifties, with four married children and eight grandchildren. His wife had been in poor health for the last five years and, though he was devoted to her in every other way, her ill health had prevented them from enjoying a normal marital relationship. So he had turned, as so many men did, to the ranks of the demi-monde and there he had encountered Miss Elizabeth Paisley, the young woman for whom he had developed an unfortunate affection. Now she was missing and the Colonel was worried about her.
Probably with good reason, Barrington thought as he shook the man’s hand and walked away. It was a simple fact that women of Miss Paisley’s ilk were concerned with one thing and one thing only. Survival. It wasn’t easy making a living on the streets of London. A woman never knew if the man who pulled her into a darkened alley and threw up her skirts was going to be a paying customer or the last man she ever saw alive. Being a prostitute was not without its risks. But being the mistress of a wealthy man took away those risks and gave a woman security. It put a roof over her head and kept food on her table. So why would someone like Miss Paisley walk away from all that if she’d had any other choice?
It was a question Barrington couldn’t answer. And as he prepared to leave Lady Montby’s reception—after deciding it was best that he not stop to engage the delightful Lady Annabelle in conversation again—he realised it was one that would trouble him until he did. To that end, he made a mental note to ask his secretary to make some initial enquiries into Elizabeth Paisley’s whereabouts. Sam Jenkins had been with Barrington long enough to know what kind of questions to ask and who to ask them of. Then, depending on what he turned up, Barrington would either call upon one of his extensive network to continue the investigation or delve into the matter himself.
He wasn’t sure why, but as he climbed into his carriage for the short ride home, he had a feeling there was more to the disappearance of Miss Elizabeth Paisley than met the eye.
Chapter Two (#ucab641c8-7305-5f15-8249-575d1e1e8658)
Anna pulled her dapple-grey mare to a halt by the base of a large oak and waited for Lady Lydia Winston to catch up with her. The two had made a point of riding together on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, and these rousing canters had become one of the highlights of Anna’s week. Lady Lydia, daughter of the Marquess of Bailley, was by far one of the most amusing and interesting people Anna had ever met.
‘Goodness!’ Lydia said as she drew her spirited Arabian bay level with Anna’s mare. ‘I was sure I had you at the big tree, but you sprinted past me as though I was standing still!’
‘I suspect Danby put oats in Ophelia’s bucket this morning.’ Anna reached down to give the mare’s glossy neck an affectionate pat. ‘She’s not usually that quick off the mark.’
‘Nevertheless, I had enough of a lead that it shouldn’t have made a difference. Tarik isn’t used to being left behind.’ Lydia’s ready smile flashed. ‘I won’t be so easily fooled the next time.’
Anna laughed, pleased that her little mare had done so well. She nudged her to a leisurely walk, content to enjoy the glorious morning sunshine and the relative emptiness of the park. During the fashionable hour, the avenue they were now travelling would be crowded with elegant carriages and their equally elegant passengers, but at this time of day it was the perfect place to enjoy a brisk canter.
‘By the by, have you heard the news?’ Lydia enquired.
‘That depends. All I heard at Lady Montby’s reception last week was that Cynthia Wicks had threatened to run away if her mother forced her to spend a month with her grandmother in Scotland.’
‘Good Lord, so would I,’ Lydia declared. ‘Lady Shallerton is a cold fish with whom I wouldn’t wish to spend an hour, let alone a month. But it wasn’t Miss Wick’s escapades I was referring to. It was the Baroness Julia von Brohm’s.’
‘Baroness von Brohm,’ Anna repeated slowly. ‘Should I know her?’
‘La, Anna, where have you been? It is all about town that the Viennese baroness has come to London to find a new husband.’
‘Why? What happened to her old one?’
‘He died. Almost two years ago now, leaving her a very lonely but extremely wealthy young widow. Apparently, he showered her with the most glorious jewellery and she was heartbroken when he died. Not because he gave her jewellery,’ Lydia was quick to say, ‘but because they were genuinely in love. But she is finished with her mourning now and has come to London to start a new life. I understand she’s taken a very fine house in Mayfair and is in the process of redecorating it from top to bottom.’
‘I’m surprised she would have chosen to leave Vienna at such a time,’ Anna remarked. ‘One would think she would prefer to stay with her family and friends.’
‘Friends I’m sure she has, but again, rumour has it that her only brother moved to America when she was quite young and hasn’t been heard from since. And both of her parents are dead.’
‘How tragic. What about her late husband’s family?’ Anna asked.
‘Apparently, they were never close. Difficulties with the mother-in-law, from what I hear.’
‘So Vienna is full of unhappy memories and the arms of her family hold no welcome. No wonder she decided to come to London,’ Anna said. ‘Has she any close friends here?’
‘I don’t believe so. Society is wildly curious about her, of course, but it hasn’t exactly thrown open its doors in welcome.’
‘Then we must be the first to do so,’ Anna said without hesitation. ‘I suspect once people see the daughters of the Marquess of Bailley and the Earl of Cambermere welcoming her, the rest of the doors will open soon enough. All it takes,’ she added with a knowing smile, ‘is that first little push.’
Barrington’s sword flashed once, cutting a smooth silver arc through the air and echoing down the length of the long gallery. Metal slid along metal as the two men moved through the orchestrated dance of extend, lunge, parry and retreat, and while concentration was etched on the faces of both men, only Barrington’s brow was dry. He feinted to the left, drawing his brother-in-law’s blade wide and ultimately opening him up to defeat.
‘Damn it!’ Tom Danvers snapped as the point of Barrington’s sword flicked his chest for the fifth time. ‘You’ve beaten me again!’
‘And I will continue to do so if you do not apply yourself more keenly to the sport,’ Barrington said, drawing back. ‘You won’t stand a chance if you keep both feet firmly planted on the ground, Tom. You need to keep moving. Dance on the balls of your feet.’
‘Oh, yes, that’s easy for you to say,’ the other man complained good-naturedly. ‘I’ve three stone and five years on you and it’s not so easy being nimble when you’ve more weight below your waist than above it!’
Barrington laughed. ‘Then tell that pompous French chef of yours to start preparing less fattening meals.’
‘What? And have him quit because I had the audacity to tell him what to cook! Jenny would have my head. Monsieur Etienne is the finest French chef in London!’ Tom exclaimed.
‘Be that as it may, he is not doing you any favours by serving all those heavy sauces and rich desserts,’ Barrington pointed out. ‘If you wish to be quicker on your feet, the weight will have to come off. In fact, I have a solution.’
‘I’m not sure I wish to hear it,’ Tom muttered.
‘Of course you do. I shall take Monsieur Etienne off your hands for a few weeks and you can have Mrs Buckers. I guarantee your clothes will fit better after only three days.’
‘Perhaps, but I won’t care because Jenny will have left me.’
Barrington clapped his brother-in-law on the back. ‘A man must sacrifice for his sport. Ah, there you are, Sam. Has my two o’clock appointment arrived?’
‘Not yet, Sir Barrington,’ the secretary said, ‘but another gentleman has and is asking to see you. I put him in your study.’
Barrington nodded. A visitor in his study meant one of his network had come in with information. Friends he welcomed in the gold salon. Any one else was made to wait in the hall until he had ascertained the nature of their business. He did not purport to be a private investigator, but, because of his past successes, there were those who sought him out regardless.
‘Thank you, Sam. Tell the gentleman I shall be there directly.’ He turned to smile at his brother-in-law. ‘Sorry to cut it short, Tom …’
‘No need to apologise. You’re a busy man, and, in truth, I’ve taken all the humiliation I can for one day,’ Tom said good-naturedly. ‘Before I go, however, Jenny wanted me to find out if you were available for dinner one night this week. She misses you dreadfully and even young George was heard to say it has been a great deal too long since his Uncle Barr came to play with him.’
Barrington’s pleasure was unfeigned. ‘Tell my sister I shall make a point of coming one evening this week, and then inform my nephew that I shall be sure to arrive early enough to play two games of hide and seek with him.’
‘He will not sleep for the knowledge,’ Tom said, starting for the door. ‘By the by, I should warn you that you won’t be the only guest.’
Barrington groaned. ‘Don’t tell me Jenny’s matchmaking again?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Who is it this time?’ He sighed.
‘Lady Alice Stokes.’
Barrington dug into his memory. ‘Lady Alice—?’
‘Stokes. Eldest daughter of the Earl of Grummond,’ Tom supplied helpfully. ‘Beautiful, cultured and an heiress in her own right. Jenny thinks she would be perfect for you.’
‘That’s what she said about the last three ladies she introduced me to and they were all unmitigated disasters.’
‘True, but at least you wouldn’t have to worry about Lady Alice marrying you for your money. Or for your title,’ Tom pointed out.
True enough, Barrington conceded. An earl’s daughter could do much better than a baronet, and if she had her own money, his wouldn’t be as much of an attraction. ‘Very well, you may tell my sister I shall come on Friday. That should give her ample time to put everything in place.’
‘You’re a brick, Barrington,’ Tom said in relief. ‘I was afraid you’d bow out if I told you the truth, but I didn’t like the idea of you being caught off guard.’
‘Rest assured, I shall be the perfect guest,’ Barrington said. ‘And you need not fear retribution from my sister. I shall act suitably surprised when the beautiful Lady Alice and I are introduced.’
‘You are a gentleman in every sense of the word.’
‘Just don’t let me hear any mention of the words engagement or marriage or I shall be forced to renege on my promise,’ he warned.
Tom grinned. ‘I shall do my utmost to make sure you do not.’
They parted on the best of terms; Tom to return to his happy home, Barrington to return to his study to find out what new information had come to light. While there might be more comfort in the former, he was not of a mind to complicate his life by taking a wife. Investigating the underhanded dealings of others was hardly conducive to forming intimate relations with gently reared young ladies. It was neither the occupation of a gentleman nor what he’d planned on doing when he’d returned to London after his father’s death.
However, when an unfortunate set of circumstances involving two of his father’s friends and a large sum of money had forced him into the role, Barrington had discovered a unique talent for uncovering the hidden bits of information others could not. His carefully cultivated network of acquaintances, many of whom held positions of power and even more who held positions of knowledge, made it easy for him to find out what he needed to know and, over time, he had established himself as a man who was able to find solutions for people’s problems.
Naturally, as word of his reputation had spread, so had his list of enemies, many of them the very men he had helped to expose. Beneath society’s elegant and sophisticated façade lurked a far more dangerous element—one comprised of men to whom honour and truth meant nothing. Men who were motivated by greed and who routinely committed crimes against their fellow man.
Hence Barrington’s wish to remain single. While he could be reasonably assured of his own safety, he knew that if his enemies tried to get to him through the woman he loved, he would have no choice but to comply with their demands. The unscrupulous did not trouble themselves with morals when it came to getting what they wanted.
That’s why he had taken to avoiding situations that might place him in such an awkward situation. He existed on the fringes of society, close enough to be aware of what was going on, but far enough away that he wasn’t seen as potential husband material. So far it had worked out well, much to the annoyance of his happily married sister. He was able to assist the people who came to him with problems, while avoiding the complications that came with marriage.
Now, as he headed to his study, Barrington wondered which of the sins was about to be revealed and who would be thrown out of Eden as a result. Paradise was sometimes a very difficult place in which to live.
‘Ah, Richard,’ he said, opening the door to see his good friend, Lord Richard Crew, standing at the far end of the room, his attention focused on a particularly fine painting by Stubbs that covered a large part of the end wall. ‘Still hoping I’ll sell it to you?’
‘Hope has nothing to do with it,’ Crew murmured. ‘Eventually, I’ll name a price you won’t be able to refuse.’
‘Don’t be too sure. I’ve rejected every offer you’ve put forward so far.’
‘Fine. I’ll make you another before I leave today.’
Barrington smiled as he moved towards his desk. Lord Richard Crew was an ardent lover of horse flesh and owned more paintings by Stubbs, Tillemans and Seymour than any other gentleman in London. Quietly picking them up as they came available for sale, he had amassed an impressive collection—with the exception of Whistlejacket, a magnificent painting of a prancing Arabian thoroughbred commissioned by the Marquess of Rockingham and acknowledged by many to be one of Stubbs’s finest. That was the piece of work currently hanging in Barrington’s study, and the fact that he owned the one painting his friend wanted more than any other was a constant source of amusement to him and an ongoing source of irritation to Crew.
‘Did it ever occur to you,’ Barrington asked now, ‘that money doesn’t enter into it?’
‘Not for a moment,’ Crew said, finally turning away from the canvas. ‘Every man has his price and it’s only a matter of time until I find yours. But rest assured, I will find it. And I know exactly where I’m going to put Whistlejacket once I finally wrest it from your iron grip.’
Barrington smiled. ‘And where might that be?’
‘In my study, opposite my desk. That way I’ll see it when I’m working.’
‘I would have thought you’d want it in your bedroom.’ Barrington moved to the credenza and poured brandy into two glasses. ‘That way, you’d see it most of the time.’
‘True, but I would only be paying it half as much attention.’ Crew’s smile widened into a grin. ‘After all, there are so many other pleasurable things to occupy oneself with in the bedroom, wouldn’t you agree?’
The question was rhetorical. Lord Richard Crew’s reputation as a lady’s man was honestly come by because, in point of fact, Crew adored women. He had ever since a buxom dairy maid had introduced him to the pleasures of Venus in the loft of his father’s barn, followed in quick succession by three of the housemaids, two of the village shop girls, and a married woman Crew had steadfastly refused to name.
As he’d grown into a man, his appreciation for the fairer sex had not waned, but out of respect for his parents, he’d left off tupping the household servants and moved on to ballet dancers and actresses. He had steadfastly avoided marriage and refused to trifle with virgins or débutantes, saying it was a matter of pride that he had never deflowered an innocent or given false hope to a well-born lady. And once it became known that he preferred his women uncomplicated and experienced, the list of married ladies willing to accommodate his voracious appetite grew.
Hence Barrington’s surprise when, during the investigation of the Marchioness of Yew’s infidelity, he’d learned that his good friend was finally in honest pursuit of the lady’s very respectable and exceedingly lovely nineteen-year-old daughter, Rebecca.
‘Sexual conquests aside, dare I hope you’ve come with news about the identity of Lady Yew’s alleged lover?’ Barrington enquired.
‘Nothing alleged about it.’ Crew strolled towards the desk and picked up a glass in his long, slender fingers. ‘I happened to be in the lady’s house on the occasion of the young man’s last visit and saw them acting very lover-like towards one another.’
‘How convenient. Were you there in hopes of seeing the lovely Lady Rebecca or to question the mother?’
‘Most definitely the former.’ Crew raised the glass to his nose and sniffed appreciatively. ‘Unlike our young Romeo, I have no interest in romancing ladies over the age of thirty. The bloom has long since gone from that rose.’
‘But with maturity comes experience,’ Barrington said, reaching for his own glass. ‘A gently reared miss of nineteen will know nothing of that.’
‘Fortunately, I am more than willing to teach her all she needs to know.’ Crew swallowed a mouthful of brandy, pausing a moment to savour its flavour before sinking into a chair and resting his booted feet on the edge of the desk. ‘However, returning to the matter at hand, the gentleman in question is not our typical Lothario. I’ve never heard his name mentioned in association with lady or ladybird; in truth, I’d never heard of him until his arrival in London just over a month ago. So the fact he has chosen to dally with a marquess’s wife is somewhat unusual.’
‘Are you sure they are lovers?’
Crew shrugged. ‘Lady Rebecca confided her belief that they are. She told me she’s seen the gentleman enter her mother’s private quarters on more than one occasion, and, as I was leaving, I saw them myself going upstairs together hand in hand.’
‘Damning evidence indeed,’ Barrington said. ‘And reckless behaviour for a man newly arrived in London. Does he suffer from a case of misplaced affection or unbridled lust?’
‘Knowing the marchioness, I suspect the latter,’ Crew said in a dry voice. ‘It’s well known she favours younger men because her husband is a crusty old stick twenty-five years older than she is.’
‘Still, she has charmed a legion of men both younger and older than herself, and, up to this point, her husband has always been willing to turn a blind eye,’ Barrington said. ‘For whatever reason, he is not inclined to do so this time.’
Crew shrugged. ‘Perhaps he fears a genuine attachment. It’s all very well for a woman to take a lover to her bed, but it is extremely bad taste to fall in love with him. People have been known to do abysmally stupid things in the name of love.’
‘Too true. So, who is the poor boy Lord Yew is going to flay?’
‘His full name is Peregrine Tipton Rand.’
‘Good Lord. Peregrine Tipton?’
‘A trifle whimsical, I admit, but he’s a country lad visiting London for the first time. Apparently, his father owns a farm in Devon. Rand’s the oldest of four brothers and sisters but he hasn’t shown much interest in taking over from his father. Seems he’s more interested in books than in bovines, so when the mother died, the father shipped him up here to stay with his godfather in the hopes of the boy acquiring some town polish. Unfortunately, all he acquired was an affection for Lady Yew.’
Barrington frowned. ‘How did a country boy come to be introduced to a marchioness?’
‘Through the auspices of Lord Hayle, Viscount Hayle.’
‘Hayle?’ Barrington’s eyebrows rose in surprise. The beautiful Lady Annabelle’s brother? ‘I wouldn’t have thought the Earl of Cambermere’s heir the type to associate with a country gentleman of no consequence.’
‘I dare say you’re right, but as it happens, he has no choice.
Rand is staying with the family. Cambermere is the man reputed to be his godfather.’
‘Reputed?’
‘There are those who say the lad bears a stronger resemblance to the earl than might be expected.’
‘Ah, I see.’ Barrington rapped his fingers on the desk. ‘Wrong side of the blanket.’
‘Possible, though no one’s come right out and said it.’
‘Of course not. Cambermere’s a powerful man. If he did father an illegitimate child years ago and now chooses to have the boy come live with him, no one’s going to tell him he can’t. Especially given that his own wife died last year.’
‘But there are other children living in the house,’ Crew pointed out. ‘Legitimate children who won’t take kindly to their father foisting one of his by-blows on them.’
Especially the son and heir, Barrington reflected grimly. Viscount Hayle was not the kind of man to suffer such a slight to his family name. If he came to suspect the true nature of Rand’s paternity, he could make things very difficult for all concerned. So difficult, in fact, that Rand might hightail it back to the country, and that was something Barrington had to avoid. He needed to find out as much as possible about the young man before news of his liaison with Lady Yew went public—because there was no doubt in Barrington’s mind that it would. The marchioness wasn’t known for being discreet. Her list of lovers was a popular topic of conversation at parties, and the fact that this time, her husband had chosen to make an example of the young man would definitely make for scintillating conversation over wine and cards.
‘You’ve gone quiet,’ Crew said. ‘Mulling over how best to break the news to dear Peregrine’s unsuspecting family?’
‘As a matter of fact, I was.’ Barrington got to his feet and walked slowly towards the long window. ‘I met Lady Annabelle Durst at Lady Montby’s reception the other week.’
‘Ah, the beautiful Anna,’ Crew murmured appreciatively. ‘Truly one of society’s diamonds. I cannot imagine why she’s still single.’
Barrington snorted. ‘Likely because she’s too busy trying to prevent silly young women from ruining themselves.’
‘An admirable undertaking, though knowing how many silly young women there are in London, I don’t imagine it leaves much time for looking after her own future.’
‘Virtually none,’ Barrington said, his thoughts returning to the lady whose existence he had first learned about during an investigation he’d undertaken the previous year. It had not involved Lady Annabelle directly, but had focused instead on the uncle of one of the girls she had been trying to help. As a result of that investigation, however, Barrington had become familiar with her name and with her propensity for helping naïve young girls navigate their way through the choppy waters of first love.
Always from a distance, of course. Given his own self-imposed boundaries, Barrington knew better than to risk getting too close to her, but he was strongly aware of her appeal and smart enough to know that she could be dangerous for that reason alone. He’d met a lot of women in his life, but there was something about Lady Annabelle Durst that set her apart from all the rest. Something rare. Something precious. Something indefinable …
‘Well, if you’re going to sit there all afternoon and stare into space, I’m leaving.’ Crew drained his glass and set it on the desk. ‘I am expected for tea with Lady Yew and her daughter; if you have nothing more to tell me, I may as well be on my way.’
‘Fine. But while you’re sipping tea and whispering endearments
in Lady Rebecca’s ear, see if you can find out anything else about her mother’s relationship with Rand,’ Barrington said. ‘The more I know about the situation, the better off I’ll be when it comes time to confront him with it.’
Crew unhurriedly rose. ‘I’ll ask, but, given the extent of the marquess’s displeasure, I doubt you’ll hear Rebecca or her mother mention the name Peregrine Rand with favour again.’
Anna was reading Shakespeare when the door to the drawing room opened. Leaving Hamlet on the page, she looked up to see their butler standing in the doorway. ‘Yes, Milford?’
‘Excuse me, my lady, but a gentleman has called and is asking to see Mr Rand.’
Anna glanced at the clock on the mantel. Half past eight. Somewhat late for a social call. ‘Did you tell him Mr Rand was from home?’
‘I did, but he said it was a matter of some urgency and wondered if you knew what time he might be home.’
‘Lord knows, I certainly don’t.’ With a sigh, Anna set her book aside. ‘Did the gentleman leave his card?’
Milford bowed and silently proffered the tray. Anna took the card and read the name. Sir Barrington Parker. How strange. She knew the man by reputation rather than by sight. A wealthy baronet with an impressive home, he was, by all accounts, a cultured, educated and exceedingly charming man who was also reputed to be one of London’s finest swordsmen. The story went that he’d spent several years in Paris training under a legendary French master; when his father’s death had compelled him to return to England, Sir Barrington had been besieged by the pinks of society asking him to teach them his skills. With very few exceptions, he had refused every request.
Why, then, would he be here now, asking after a man with whom he was unlikely to have even the slightest acquaintance? ‘Ask him to come in, Milford. Then inform my father that we have a visitor.’
The butler bowed. ‘Very good, my lady.’
The wait was not long. Moments later, the door opened again and Milford announced, ‘Sir Barrington Parker.’
Anna rose as the butler withdrew, but the moment the baronet arrived she stopped dead, totally unprepared for the sight of the man standing in her doorway. ‘You!’
‘Good evening, Lady Annabelle.’ Sir Barrington Parker strolled into the room, as impeccably turned out as he had been the night of Lady Montby’s reception. His dark jacket fit superbly across a pair of broad shoulders, his buff-coloured breeches outlined strong, muscular thighs and his cravat was simply yet elegantly tied. ‘I told you an occasion would present itself whereby our introduction could be made in a more acceptable manner.’
‘You did indeed,’ Anna said, struggling to recover from her surprise. She’d thought about him several times since meeting him at Lady Montby’s, and, while she’d found him a powerful presence there, he was, in the small confines of the drawing room, even more compelling. ‘I simply did not think it would be in my own home or that the illustrious Sir Barrington Parker would turn out to be the gentleman with whom I exchanged opinions the other night.’
‘Illustrious?’ His beautiful mouth lifted in a disturbingly sensual smile. ‘I fear you are confusing me with someone else.’
‘On the contrary, rumour has it that you are an excellent fencer and an unparalleled shot. And that you’ve uncovered more than your fair share of secrets about those who move in the upper reaches of society.’
His smile was indulgent, much like that of a teacher addressing an errant pupil. ‘You and I both know how foolish it is to put stock in rumours, Lady Annabelle. One never knows how or why they start and most often they are proven to be wrong.’
‘Do you deny that it was you who exposed Lord Bosker as an embezzler?’ Anna said. ‘Or that you just happened upon that letter naming his fine, upstanding cousin, Mr Teetham, as his accomplice?’
‘I tend to think the timing was, for the most part, coincidental,’ Sir Barrington said, careful to avoid a direct answer. ‘Their crimes would have come to light soon enough. They grew careless, too confident in their own ability to deceive.’
‘But you were the one who drew attention to what they were doing,’ Anna persisted. ‘Had you not, they would most likely have continued in their games and who knows what other crimes they would have perpetrated. But forgive my manners, Sir Barrington. Pray be seated.’
‘Thank you. And while your confidence in my ability is flattering, I should tell you it is entirely misplaced.’ He glanced at the chairs arranged in front of the fireplace and settled into the wingback chair opposite the one upon which her book lay open. ‘There were other people involved in their arrest and to a far greater extent than myself. But, as we are talking about other people’s affairs, how did matters proceed between Miss Banks and Lieutenant Blokker after you and I parted company the other night?’
Surprised he would even remember the conversation, Anna managed a smile. ‘Remarkably well, all things considered. Lieutenant Blokker turned out to be a delightful young man and I realized, after speaking with him, that while the manner of his approach to Miss Banks left much to be desired, his intentions were strictly honourable.’
‘Ah yes, the ill-fated rendezvous in the garden,’ Sir Barrington mused. ‘Not the best thought out of plans, but thanks to you no harm came of it.’
‘And thanks to you, the two are now formally introduced and eager to begin a courtship,’ Anna said. ‘But I don’t suppose Miss Banks’s romantic escapades have anything to do with your reason for being here this evening.’
‘Regrettably, they do not. I was actually hoping to speak to your house guest, Mr Rand, but I understand he is from home.’
‘Yes, he is.’ Anna gazed at him, surprised to feel her heart beating a little faster than usual. Obviously she wasn’t used to being alone with such a disturbingly handsome man. ‘I wasn’t aware the two of you were acquainted.’
His dark brows arched ever so slightly. ‘Are you acquainted with all of Mr Rand’s friends and associates, Lady Annabelle?’
‘As a matter of fact, I am. Peregrine has only recently come to stay with us, and, given how anxious my father was that he become known in society, I took the liberty of including him in all of my social activities,’ Anna said. ‘That being the case, I think I can safely say that I do know with whom he is and is not acquainted. I have never heard him speak of you.’
Briefly, the gentleman smiled, but while it softened the lines of his face, it did nothing to lessen the intensity of the expression in his eyes. ‘I am not acquainted with Mr Rand, Lady Annabelle, nor is he with me,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve come here at the behest of another, on a matter of extreme urgency to both.’
‘An urgent matter?’
‘Yes. One I would prefer to discuss in private with the gentleman. Or, failing that, with your father, if he is at home.’
‘He is, Sir Barrington,’ Lord Cambermere said, walking into the room. ‘But if Edward has done something that warrants discussion—’
‘It is not Edward Sir Barrington wishes to speak to you about, Papa,’ Anna said calmly. ‘It is Peregrine. And there is no point in my giving you privacy since we both know Peregrine will tell me everything the three of you say the moment Sir Barrington leaves.’
‘He may not wish to tell you this,’ Sir Barrington said, slowly getting to his feet. ‘And I would prefer to speak to you about it in private, my Lord.’
Cambermere frowned. He was a tall, solidly built man with warm brown eyes, a ruddy complexion and dark hair that was just beginning to show signs of grey at the temples. His clothes were more suited to a country gentleman than a man about town, but now that his year of mourning was over, Anna was hopeful he might once again take up an interest in socialising, and, by necessity, his appearance.
‘Yes, I’m sure you would,’ the earl said. ‘But I have no doubt Anna speaks the truth about the boy’s repeating everything we say. He’s my godson, you see, and the two have become as thick as thieves in the short time they’ve been together. I’m surprised he’s gone out without her tonight. Still, he’s a quiet enough lad. I can’t imagine him doing anything that would be inappropriate for Anna to hear about.’
Anna could tell from the look on the baronet’s face that he was less than pleased with her father’s decision. Equally aware that trying to force the earl into a private interview was not the conduct of a gentleman, Sir Barrington merely shrugged those broad shoulders and said, ‘Very well, though you may wish to change your mind once I begin to relate the details of the situation. You see, not long ago, a titled gentleman came to see me with regards to a personal matter concerning his wife.’
‘His wife?’ The earl looked decidedly confused. ‘What has this to do with Peregrine?’
‘The gentleman suspected his wife of having an affair,’ Sir Barrington continued. ‘Naturally, he asked me to make enquiries as discreetly as possible and to keep the results similarly confidential. He knew I’d had some success in this area and I agreed to look into the matter for him and see what I could learn. Now, having discovered the identity of the gentleman, I felt it behoved me to hear his side of the story. That’s why I’m here. I regret to inform you, Lord Cambermere,’ Sir Barrington said quietly, ‘that the gentleman guilty of having an affair with the wife of a highly placed nobleman is none other than your godson, Mr Peregrine Rand.’
Chapter Three (#ucab641c8-7305-5f15-8249-575d1e1e8658)
‘Peregrine!’ Anna said on a gas. ‘You think Peregrine is having an affair with a married woman? But that’s impossible!’
‘The facts would indicate otherwise,’ Sir Barrington said. ‘But perhaps you would care to explain why you believe it to be so unlikely?’
‘Because he isn’t the type to get involved in something like that. In fact, I don’t think he’s ever even been involved with a woman. He is … a student of history,’ Anna said, needing to make him understand why his accusation was so totally misplaced. ‘Old bones and ancient ruins hold far more appeal for Peregrine than would the charms of the most practised seductress.’
At that, Sir Barrington’s mouth lifted in a smile. ‘I doubt Lord Yew would appreciate his wife being referred to as a practised seductress, but—’
‘Lord Yew!’ Cambermere interrupted. ‘Dear God, don’t tell me you’re talking about the marchioness?’
‘I am.’
‘Damn!’ The earl muttered something under his breath, then abruptly turned to his daughter. ‘I think under the circumstances it would be best if Sir Barrington and I were to continue this conversation in private, Anna. There’s nothing here you need to be involved with.’
‘But why not? I already know the worst,’ Anna said. ‘And I stand by my claim that Peregrine is innocent of the charge.’
‘Unfortunately, I have evidence to the contrary,’ Sir Barrington put in. ‘And I do not intend to reveal that in front of you, no matter what your father says.’
‘Of course not,’ Cambermere mumbled. ‘Not fit for a lady’s ears, I’m sure. But I will have the details of it before the lad comes home.’
‘But, Papa—’
‘No, my dear. Sir Barrington and I will discuss this alone,’ her father said firmly. ‘When Peregrine gets home, have Milford send him straight to my study. And you are not to speak with him beforehand.’
Anna said nothing as the two men left the room because, in truth, she didn’t know what to say. Peregrine involved in a scandalous affair with a married marchioness? Impossible! Even if he were to lift his head out of his books long enough to look at a woman, it certainly wouldn’t be to one married to another man. He had a stronger moral code than that, of that she was sure.
And yet Sir Barrington Parker claimed to have proof of the affair. What kind of proof could he have, and how had Peregrine come to be accused of this wretched undertaking in the first place? Had Lord Yew a grudge against him? Perhaps as the result of a card game or a wager? Had they had words over some political issue, or a difference of opinion over the current government’s handling of some matter of concern to both of them?
There had to be something. Anna refused to believe that Peregrine would ever stoop to something as shoddy as an affair. He might have been raised in the country, but everything about his behaviour thus far convinced her that his parents had instilled good moral values in him.
Why should that change simply because he was visiting London for the first time?
‘And you are quite sure of your facts?’ Cambermere said unhappily.
‘Quite.’ Barrington walked unhurriedly around the earl’s study. It was a comfortable room—masculine yet not oppressively so, with large leather chairs, several glass-fronted bookcases and a large mahogany desk, the surface of which was covered with papers and estate ledgers. Tall windows bracketed a portrait of the fifth Earl of Cambermere, the present earl’s father, and on the wall opposite hung one of a lady Barrington suspected of being the late Lady Cambermere.
Obviously, the earl liked looking at his wife’s portrait. Perhaps she’d spent time with him here, keeping him company while he worked on the complexities of estate business. Certainly there was evidence of a woman’s touch in the room: the brass candlesticks on the side table; the throw cushions that picked up the dark blue of the curtains; the warmth of the Axminster carpet. All the small, homely things that turned a house into a home. All the things his own house was so noticeably lacking.
‘I never lay charges without being sure, my Lord,’ Barrington said. ‘It wastes time and inflicts unnecessary pain on the innocent. Mr Rand’s activities were confirmed by a family member who saw the two enter Lady Yew’s chamber and by a friend of mine who happened to be in the house at the same time as Rand. He was quite specific about the details of Mr Rand’s visit, right up until the time he and the lady went upstairs arm in arm.’ Barrington turned to face the older man. ‘And regardless of whether or not what took place upstairs was of an intimate nature, you know as well as I do that his being alone with the marchioness is more than enough to convict him.’
‘Damn!’ the earl swore again. ‘I never expected behaviour like this from Peregrine. Edward’s always been one for the ladies. God knows how many have lost their hearts to him. But he’s a good-looking lad and as charming as they come.’
‘Has he shown no interest in marrying?’
‘No, and at almost twenty-six, he’s of an age where that’s exactly what he should be turning his mind to,’ the earl said testily. ‘I’ve told him as much, but he doesn’t pay heed to me. Says he’ll marry when he’s good and ready and not a moment before.’
‘So he likes to play the field,’ Barrington said.
‘Always has. But Rand isn’t inclined that way. In the time he’s been here, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk about a woman, let alone embroil himself in a sordid affair with one. My daughter was right in that regard.’
Barrington didn’t bother to offer a reply. Family dynamics were neither of importance nor of interest to him. Emotion had to be kept separate from fact or everything risked drowning in sentimentality. Some might consider him cold for harbouring such a belief, but as far as he was concerned, it was the only way to do business. ‘My Lord, I trust you appreciate the gravity of the situation,’ he said bluntly. ‘Lord Yew is understandably angry that his wife entered into an intimate relationship with another man; while it is correct to say that the lady is equally to blame, it is the gentleman the marquess intends to punish.’
‘Of course,’ Cambermere agreed. ‘Men are always at fault in these situations. Well, what do you propose we do about it?’
Barrington was about to answer when the door to the room burst open and Lady Annabelle swept in, all blazing eyes and righteous indignation. ‘Forgive me, Papa, but I simply cannot stand by and allow Sir Barrington’s accusation to go unchallenged. Peregrine would never do something like this. It runs contrary to everything he stands for—which leads me to believe that it must be Sir Barrington’s information that is in error.’
Barrington stared at the woman standing just inside the door, aware that she truly was magnificent. The candlelight deepened her hair to a rich, burnished gold and, in the dim light, her eyes shone a clear, deep blue. She was like a golden lioness protecting her cub. He almost hated having to be the one to prove her wrong. ‘I have someone ready to swear that Mr Rand spent time alone with the marchioness in her private rooms, Lady Annabelle,’ he said quietly. ‘I need not tell you how damaging such a disclosure would be.’
He saw her eyes widen and knew that she did indeed appreciate the gravity of what he’d just said. But it was equally clear that she still didn’t believe him. ‘How do you know your witness was telling the truth, Sir Barrington? You have only his word that what he claims to have happened really did. I know Peregrine and I can assure you that he is not the type of man—’
‘Anna, please,’ her father interrupted. ‘If Sir Barrington says he has proof of Peregrine’s guilt, we must believe him.’
‘But why? If he only took the time to speak with Peregrine, he would know that what he is suggesting is quite impossible.’
Cambermere sighed. ‘You must forgive my daughter, Sir Barrington. She has grown uncommonly fond of my godson in the short time he’s been here and is clearly reluctant to hear ill spoken of him.’
‘I understand,’ Barrington said, wondering if the closeness between the lady and Mr Rand had anything to do with the fact that they might well be brother and sister. ‘Is Mr Rand spending the rest of the Season with you?’
The earl nodded. ‘That was the plan. His father and I are … old friends. We were … at school together,’ he said, glancing at a file on his desk. ‘Haven’t seen him in years, of course, but I was at his wedding and agreed to stand as godfather to his firstborn.’ He turned towards the window, his face half in shadow. ‘A few months ago, I received a letter from him, telling me that his wife had died and asking if I’d be willing to take Peregrine for a few months. Show him the sights of London, that sort of thing.’
‘And you agreed.’
‘I thought it the right thing to do.’ The earl swallowed hard, his voice when he spoke gruff. ‘He is my godson, after all.’
Barrington nodded, not sure whether it was grief or regret that shadowed the earl’s voice. ‘Are you aware of the company your godson keeps, Lord Cambermere?’
‘Can’t say that I am. His interests run vastly different to mine. He doesn’t ride, he prefers not to hunt and I don’t believe he’s all that partial to moving in society. As my daughter said, he would rather spend his evenings with a book.’
Or in the marchioness’s bed. ‘Do you know where he is this evening?’ Barrington enquired.
He saw the look that passed between Cambermere and his daughter, but wasn’t surprised when the earl said, ‘No. As I said, I don’t make a study of the boy’s comings and goings.’
‘Yet you said Lady Annabelle usually goes with him to social engagements.’
‘Yes.’
‘Then why is she not with him tonight?’ Barrington asked.
Barrington glanced at Lady Annabelle as he waited for a response. What little he knew of her encouraged him to believe that she would give him an honest answer. But when he saw her colour rise and her golden brows knit together, he suspected she already had. ‘I see.’
‘No, you don’t see!’ Lady Annabelle said quickly. ‘Peregrine didn’t ask me to accompany him because he was going to visit someone with whom he was already acquainted. It wasn’t necessary that I go along.’
‘Were you not surprised that you did not also receive an invitation to the reception?’
‘Not at all. There are often events to which I am invited that other members of my family are not,’ she explained. ‘We may move in the same circles, Sir Barrington, but we do not have all the same friends.’
Barrington knew there was nothing to be gained in challenging the remark. Lady Annabelle was trying to defend Mr Rand—and failing badly in the attempt. ‘Lord Cambermere,’ he said finally, ‘my client has made it clear that he intends to make an example of the man involved with his wife. However, for the sake of you and your family, I would prefer to see this matter settled quietly and with as little scandal as possible. If I could get Lord Yew to agree to it, would Mr Rand be willing to break off his association with Lady Yew and swear that he would never see her again? Perhaps be willing to write a letter to that effect?’
Cambermere nodded. ‘I don’t see why he would not—’
‘But why should he write such a letter, Papa!’ Lady Annabelle demanded. ‘If he has done nothing wrong, surely there is no—!’
‘Enough, Anna! If you cannot keep silent, I will ask you to leave,’ her father said, displaying signs of impatience for the first time that evening. ‘I don’t know if you appreciate how serious a matter this is. In years gone by, Peregrine would have been called out for such an offence. In fact, I’m sure the thought crossed Yew’s mind. He is not a man to be trifled with.’
‘But you are condemning him without trial,’ she persisted. ‘Pronouncing him guilty without even giving him a chance to prove his innocence. All on the strength of this man’s say so!’ she added, her voice suddenly growing cold.
Barrington’s eyes narrowed. So, the fair Lady Annabelle would defend her visitor to the last, blindly ignoring the evidence that he had put forward. Pity. While her loyalty did her credit, all it meant was that the outcome of the situation would be that much more painful for her in the end.
‘If I may suggest,’ he said slowly, ‘I am well aware of how shocking this must sound and agree that Mr Rand must have his hearing and be given a chance to explain. But I do have an appointment with Lord Yew tomorrow afternoon and he will be looking for answers. So I would ask that you speak to Mr Rand as soon as possible and get back to me at the earliest opportunity.’
‘I shall speak to him the moment he returns home this evening,’ the earl said, ‘and send word to you first thing in the morning.’
‘Thank you. You have my card.’ Barrington glanced at Annabelle, but wasn’t surprised that she refused to meet his eyes. ‘I regret, Lady Annabelle, that our introduction should have taken this form. It is not how I wished we might have started out.’
‘Nor I, Sir Barrington.’ She did look at him then and Barrington saw how deeply she was torn. ‘If you knew Peregrine as I do, you would understand why I say that he is incapable of such a deceit.’
‘Sadly, it is not possible for me to be intimately acquainted with everyone I am asked to investigate. Nor would it do me any good to encourage that kind of relationship. I must judge what I see without emotion clouding my vision. I trust the word of those who provide me with information and trust my own skills when it comes to assessing the value of what they’ve told me. I have no reason to doubt the source of this particular piece of information.’
‘Yet who is to say that your source is any more honest than Peregrine?’ she parried. ‘He is as much a stranger to you as your source is to us. Does he even know Mr Rand?’
‘By sight, and that is all that matters,’ Barrington said. ‘I deal in facts, Lady Annabelle. Not emotion. One dilutes the other to such an extent that the truth is often unrecognisable.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not sure I like your truths, Sir Barrington. You presume a great deal without being personally involved.’
‘It is because I am not personally involved that I am able to reach the conclusions I do.’
‘Then I sincerely hope that when we come to you with proof of Peregrine’s innocence, you will offer him as sincere an apology as he deserves,’ she said.
Barrington inclined his head. ‘I will be happy to offer an apology if such is warranted. But if he is guilty, I expect the same courtesy from you. I’m good at what I do, Lady Annabelle—and I haven’t been wrong yet.’
Her chin rose and he saw a flash of defiance in her eyes. ‘There is a first time for everything, Sir Barrington. And in this instance, I will enjoy being the one who points it out to you.’
Barrington stared down at her, aware that while she frustrated him to the point of distraction, she also aroused in him feelings of an entirely different nature. In fact, he was finding it harder and harder to look at her and not imagine how she would feel in his arms. How the softness of her body would fit into the hard angles of his and how sweet the taste of her lips would be.
And that was the problem. While he admired her more than any woman he’d ever met, the fact that he wanted her in his bed was an unforeseen and unwelcome complication.
‘I expect time will provide the answer to that,’ he said, offering her a bow. ‘My lord,’ he said, turning to her father, ‘I look forward to your visit on the morrow.’
‘I will be there, Sir Barrington.’ The earl’s face was set in grim lines. ‘Of that you can be sure.’
In the weighted silence that followed, Anna restlessly began to pace.
‘You don’t like Sir Barrington,’ her father said flatly.
‘It is not so much the man I dislike as his attitude,’ Anna muttered, her eyes on the faded pattern of the carpet. ‘I am as deeply convinced of his error as he is of mine, yet he is intractable.’
‘And you are not?’ her father retorted. When she said nothing, he continued, ‘What of his claim that he has never been wrong?’
‘A man may make whatever claim he likes, but we have only his word that it is the truth. And regardless of what he says, I will not believe Peregrine guilty of this.’ Anna stopped and looked at her father. ‘You know what kind of man he is, Papa. You’ve spent time with him. Talked with him at length.’
‘Yes, I have, but women can make fools of us all. And sometimes circumstances compel us to do things … to be things … we would not normally do or be,’ her father said.
Anna shook her head. ‘That may hold true for some men, but not Peregrine. He is a good and honest man. I would stake everything I own on that.’
‘Then I would advise you to be careful, my dear. Sometimes what we believe in our hearts is as far from the truth as it is possible to be. And that which we say will never happen, happens with alarming regularity.’
‘You’re speaking in generalities,’ Anna said. ‘I’m talking about Peregrine, and I know him a damned sight better than—’
‘Annabelle!’
Anna sighed. ‘A great deal better than does Sir Barrington Parker. Besides, if Lady Yew is having an affair, it is only what her husband deserves, cold, unfeeling man that he is.’
‘Nevertheless, she is his wife and it is her duty to remain faithful to him,’ the earl said.
‘Even though he has kept a score of mistresses since the day they were married?’
The earl’s face flushed. ‘You should not be speaking of such things!’
‘Why not? It isn’t as though Lord Yew makes an effort to conceal his activities. He is constantly seen at the theatre with one or other of his mistresses. I’m surprised he hasn’t invited them home to dine—’
‘Enough! I will not hear you speak of such things, Anna,’ the earl said harshly. ‘Go back to the drawing room and continue with your needlework. I shall deal with Peregrine when he comes home and then we will settle this matter once and for all!’
It was well past midnight by the time Peregrine finally came home. Lying awake in bed, Anna heard the front door open, followed by the sound of muffled conversation. No doubt Milford telling Peregrine that the earl wished to see him. She heard footsteps, the sound of another door opening and closing, and then silence.
How long would the interview take? Would her father give Peregrine a chance to explain himself? Or would he assume, as Sir Barrington had, that Peregrine was guilty and demand that he make amends at once?
It did not make for pleasant contemplation and, irrationally, Anna wished it had been anyone but Sir Barrington Parker who had brought forward the accusation. Because despite what she’d said to him tonight, she was attracted to him, more than to any man she’d ever met. She felt surprisingly at ease in his company, even though the sight of him set her pulse racing and her thoughts whirling. She enjoyed his sense of humour, admired his intellect and sensed that beneath that cool and controlled exterior beat the heart of a strong and passionate man.
But how could she be attracted to any man who wilfully intended to persecute a man whom she considered as practically a member of her family? Their formal introduction had been made as the result of his coming here to investigate Peregrine’s behaviour. An erroneous investigation, Anna assured herself. Because if she allowed herself to believe that Peregrine would indulge in such a pastime, it could only mean that she didn’t know him as well as she’d thought—and she liked to believe that being able to read people on an intuitive level was something she did well.
It was what enabled her to offer advice to confused young women who came to her, and to their equally confused mothers. By cutting through the layers of emotion, she was able to see down to the bones of the situation. And yet, was that not the very justification Sir Barrington Parker had used for his conduct tonight?
‘… I deal in facts, Lady Annabelle. Not emotion. One dilutes the other to such a degree that the truth is often unrecognisable …’
Perhaps, but in this case, emotion was all Anna had to go on. Emotion and trust. She had to believe in the integrity of her family and all they stood for. For where would she be—indeed, where would any of them be—if she could not?
Anna awoke to the first rays of sunshine slanting in through her bedroom window and realised that she had fallen asleep without ever having heard Peregrine come upstairs. Bother! Now she had no way of knowing what the result of his conversation with her father had been. Nor could she just barge into Peregrine’s room and ask him. He might be her father’s godson, but he was still a young, single male and it would be inappropriate for her to go to his room alone, even under circumstances like these.
With that in mind, Anna quickly rang for her maid and set about getting dressed. Peregrine was normally an early riser, but if she could catch him before he set off, she might have a chance of finding out what she needed to know. Unfortunately, though she hurried her maid through her preparations, it wasn’t timely enough. By the time she reached Peregrine’s room and knocked on the door, there was no answer and she could hear nothing from inside. He must have already gone down for breakfast. Perhaps he’d passed a poor night after the interview with her father.
Given how angry her father had been, Anna knew that to be a definite possibility.
In the breakfast room, however, she was disappointed to find only her brother seated at the long table. Edward looked up at her entrance, his greeting somewhat reserved. ‘Good morning, Anna.’
Anna inclined her head as she made her way to the sideboard. ‘Edward.’ Though only two years separated them in age, they had never enjoyed a close relationship. Edward tended to belittle her efforts at helping others, while she couldn’t understand his cavalier treatment of friends and servants alike. She had once seen him cut a good friend dead when word of the fellow’s marriage to a lady of lesser standing had reached him, saying that anyone who associated with rubbish was like to be tainted by the smell. And when his valet had come down with a fever, Edward had dismissed him, saying he couldn’t abide to be in the same house as a sick man. Her father had offered to reassign the poor man to the stable, but not surprisingly, the valet had chosen to leave.
Now, as Anna helped herself to a slice of ham, a piece of toast and a boiled egg, she was thankful the rest of the staff were in such excellent health. ‘Have you seen Peregrine this morning?’ she asked, sitting down across from her brother.
Edward didn’t look up from his newspaper. ‘No.’
‘What about Papa?’
‘Out.’ He turned the smoothly ironed page. ‘Said he would be back in an hour.’ He glanced at the clock. ‘That was half an hour ago.’
So, her father had already left to meet with Sir Barrington Parker. That meant she had to speak to Peregrine as soon as possible. But where was he? And if he’d gone out, when might he be back? If she could talk to him, find out what had really happened, she might be able to speak to Sir Barrington on his behalf.
Leaving her plate untouched, she got up and headed for the door.
‘What, no breakfast?’ Edward enquired. ‘Cook will be displeased.’
‘I haven’t time. I have to find Peregrine.’
‘He’s probably still in his room,’ Edward said, turning another page. ‘I understand he was drinking quite heavily at the Grundings’ soirée last night.’
Anna stilled. ‘Where did you hear that?’
‘From someone who was there.’ He finally looked up and smiled. ‘It seems our country guest is finding London very much to his liking.’
Pursing her lips, Anna left the room. Edward hadn’t meant the remark kindly. For whatever reason, he’d taken an instant dislike to Peregrine and had taken to making snide comments about his appearance, his manner of dress, even his accent. Anna had taken him to task about it several times, but it hadn’t made any difference. The sniping continued and Edward made no attempt to hide his feelings when Peregrine was around.
Fortunately, Peregrine knew how Edward felt about him, but he refused to make an issue of it, saying it likely stemmed from the difference in their upbringings. Edward had been raised in a nobleman’s house and was heir to an earldom, whereas Peregrine had been raised on a farm with parents who, though comfortable, were neither titled nor gentry.
Still, he was a guest in their home and he deserved better. Anna liked him very much. Despite his obvious lack of sophistication, he was good natured and quick to laugh and didn’t belittle her efforts the way Edward did. He admired her for caring enough about the welfare of others to get involved and he also liked many of the same things she did, so they frequently found themselves laughing together at the various social events they went to.
Edward, on the other hand, was never to be found in the same room as Peregrine. Supremely conscious of his own position in society, he sought the company of those equal to him or blessed with a higher status. If there was a snob in the Durst family, it was definitely her brother.
Reaching Peregrine’s door, Anna raised her hand and knocked. ‘Peregrine?’ When she heard no response, she waited a moment and then tentatively pushed it open.
He wasn’t there. Worse, his bed hadn’t been slept in.
Anna felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach. Where had he spent the night and where was he now? Equally important, what kind of mood was he in? Peregrine was an uncommonly sensitive man. If her father had falsely accused him of having an affair with Lady Yew, Peregrine might well have left the house angry and embarrassed that his godfather would believe such shameful lies about him. But where could he have gone?
There was only one way to find out. Heading to her bedroom, Anna fetched her bonnet and gloves. Returning to the hall, she rang for Milford and asked to be told where Sir Barrington Parker lived.
‘Lady Annabelle Durst, Sir Barrington,’ Sam said quietly.
Barrington looked up from the deed of land he had been perusing and saw the lady standing in his doorway. She looked like a breath of summer in a gown of pale yellow silk trimmed with deeper yellow ribbons, an elegant wide-brimmed bonnet perched atop her golden hair. Her lips were a soft dusky rose, but her blue eyes appeared unusually bright against the pallor of her skin. She was distraught and, recognising that, he rose at once. ‘Lady Annabelle.’
‘I hope my timing is not inconvenient, Sir Barrington.’
‘Not at all. Pray come in. Bring your maid, if you wish.’
‘No, I would rather speak to you privately.’ Lady Annabelle waved the girl into a chair outside his study. ‘I cannot bear not knowing.’
So, it was curiosity that had compelled her to come. Obviously, she hadn’t spoken to her father yet. Barrington indicated the high-back chair in front of the fireplace. ‘Won’t you sit down?’
She did not. Visibly upset, she began to pace. Barrington understood the compulsion. He had been a pacer once himself. ‘May I ring for tea?’
‘Thank you.’ This time, she did look at him. ‘That would be most welcome.’
He glanced at Sam, who nodded and quietly withdrew.
For a moment Barrington said nothing, more interested in studying her than he was in initiating a conversation. She was as beautiful as ever, but this morning she looked to be drawn as tight as a finely strung bow. He had a feeling that if he pulled too hard, she would snap. ‘What did you wish to ask me, Lady Annabelle?’ he said softly.
Her head turned towards him, her blue eyes filled with misgivings. ‘Have you seen my father this morning?’
‘I have.’
‘And? Did he speak to you about Peregrine?’
Barrington nodded, aware that he was far more in control of his emotions than she was of hers. ‘Are you sure you won’t sit down?’
‘Please … just tell me,’ she implored. ‘I wanted to ask Peregrine myself, but he wasn’t in his room this morning; by the looks of his bed, he hadn’t slept there at all.’
‘I suspect he did not,’ Barrington agreed. ‘Lord Cambermere informed me that after his conversation with Mr Rand last night, the young man left the house without any indication as to where he was going or when he might return. Apparently he was in a state of considerable distress.’
He saw her eyes briefly close. ‘Did he admit to … what you accused him of?’
Barrington wished he could have said otherwise, but he wouldn’t lie. Not even when he knew the boy had. ‘No.’
With a soft cry, Lady Annabelle sank into a chair. ‘I knew it! I knew he was innocent.’ When Barrington made no response, she raised her head, her eyes narrowing at the expression on his face. ‘You don’t believe him.’
‘It takes more than a man saying he didn’t do something for me to believe him innocent when the evidence speaks so clearly of his guilt.’
‘But why would he lie?’ she protested.
Barrington gave a non-committal shrug. ‘Why does anyone lie? To protect themselves or to protect someone else. I’m sure you’ve had dealings with young women who told you one thing, yet did another.’
‘Yes, because they had no wish for their misdemeanours to become public.’
‘Exactly. Mr Rand is likely embarrassed by what he’s done and hopes to convince others that he is not at fault.’
He saw her stiffen. ‘Peregrine has never lied to me.’
‘Perhaps there has not been enough at stake for him to do so,’ Barrington said quietly. ‘Now there is.’
The door opened again and Sam walked in, carrying a silver tea service. At a nod from his employer, he set the tray on the small table beside the desk and then quietly withdrew. Barrington crossed to the table and picked up the milk jug. ‘Milk and sugar?’
‘Just milk, thank you.’
He poured a drop into one of the cups, then filled both cups with hot tea. Accepting hers, Lady Annabelle said, ‘I still think you’re wrong, Sir Barrington. If Peregrine said he is not involved with Lady Yew, he is not. Why can you not accept that as truth?’
‘Because the rest of his behaviour leads me to believe otherwise. How do you explain the fact that he chose not to stay home last night?’
‘I suspect he was deeply embarrassed by my father believing him capable of such reprehensible conduct. Would you not wish to avoid someone who had accused you of doing something you had not?’
‘Maybe. But I also like to think I would be mature enough to admit my mistakes, if I were so foolish as to make them.’
‘And I repeat, I do not believe Peregrine has made a mistake.’
He heard the quiet certainty in her voice and was moved to smile. He, too, had once been so trusting; so willing to believe in the goodness of others. When had he lost that naïveté?
‘The attraction between a man and a woman is one of the most powerful forces on earth, Lady Annabelle,’ he said. ‘You have no idea how many crimes are committed, and how many lies are told, in the name of that attraction.’
‘Not perhaps as well as you do,’ Lady Annabelle agreed, ‘but we are talking about Peregrine’s character and of that I believe I can speak with authority. If he told my father he is not having an affair with Lady Yew, he is not.’
‘Then it would seem we have reached an impasse,’ Barrington said. ‘There is nothing more to say.’
She looked somewhat taken aback by his easy acceptance of her statement, but, equally willing to accept it at face value, she finished her tea and then set the china cup and saucer back on the table. ‘What will you tell Lord Yew?’
‘I don’t know,’ Barrington said honestly. ‘But I have between now and two o’clock to work it out.’
‘Then I shall leave you to your deliberations.’ She stood up and offered him her hand. ‘Thank you for seeing me, Sir Barrington.’
‘My pleasure.’ Barrington felt the softness of the glove in his hand, the slenderness of the fingers within. ‘I’m sorry that circumstances are such that you leave believing the worst of me. Again.’
‘Actually, I don’t. We each have our own ways of involving ourselves in other people’s lives, Sir Barrington,’ Lady Annabelle said. ‘I tend to think the best and assume people innocent until proven guilty, whereas you believe the exact opposite.’
‘Not at all. I simply strive to uncover the truth,’ Barrington said. ‘That is why people come to me. And experience has taught me that if the truth is not immediately discernible, it will come out in the end.’
‘Then at least you and I are able to part knowing that the truth of this matter has already been established,’ she replied. ‘Goodbye, Sir Barrington.’
Barrington inclined his head, but said nothing as she left the room. He stood by his desk until he heard the sound of the front door close before letting his head fall back and breathing a long, deep sigh.
So, the lovely Anna thought the matter closed. Wrong. Peregrine Rand was guilty. The fact he had chosen not to confess his sin meant absolutely nothing. In his heart, he knew what he’d done and, if Peregrine was as noble as Lady Annabelle made him out to be, guilt would eat away at him until he had no choice but to make a clean breast of it. Either way, the young man was doomed to failure.
As it seemed was he, Barrington reflected, when it came to securing the good opinion of the lovely Lady Annabelle Durst. If it turned out that his accusations were correct and Rand was guilty of having an affair with Lady Yew, she would resent him for having proven her wrong. On the other hand, if Rand was telling the truth, she would resent him for having doubted his integrity in the first place. In short, they had reached a stalemate. And contrary to what either of them might wish to believe, in a situation like this, there was simply no way one or the other of them was going to win.
Chapter Four (#ulink_26a082d9-09b5-5564-a6e9-7f13a5e7381d)
Anna finally caught up with Peregrine later that afternoon. She had been resting in her room, nursing the megrim she’d had for the better part of the day, when she heard the heavy thump of footsteps in the hall and realised he was finally home. Pushing the lavender eye pads aside, she quickly got up and went to the door. ‘Peregrine!’
He clearly wasn’t in the mood for conversation. Dressed in boots, hacking jacket and breeches, he didn’t stop when she hailed him and was almost at the bottom of the stairs before she finally caught up with him. ‘Peregrine, wait! I need to talk to you.’
‘I haven’t time.’ His voice was unusually brusque. ‘I’m going riding with friends and I’m already late.’
‘Then you’ll just have to be a few minutes later,’ Anna said, putting her hand on his arm and turning him around. ‘Where were you last night? I was worried about you.’
‘You had no reason to be. I simply went out.’
‘But not until after you spoke to Papa. Why did you leave again? And why didn’t you come home?’
He flicked the hard leather crop against the top of his boot. ‘I lost track of time. When I realised how late it was, I decided it was best I just stay out.’
‘Why? Because of something Papa said?’
Peregrine was a good-looking young man with a shock of thick, black hair, deep brown eyes and a wide, generous mouth. A mouth that suddenly narrowed in anger. ‘I don’t care to talk about it.’
‘But you don’t have a choice, Peregrine. There’s a rumour going around town that you are having an affair with Lady Yew,’ Anna said, needing him to understand the gravity of the situation. ‘I know it isn’t true, but you can’t simply pretend the rumour doesn’t exist.’
‘As a matter of fact, I can. I told your father as much when he questioned me about it last night and I certainly don’t intend to stand here and justify my behaviour to you!’
Stung by the vehemence of his reply, Anna said, ‘I’m not asking for justification. I just told you I don’t believe what people are saying. But a meeting is being held this afternoon between Lord Yew and the man he asked to investigate his wife’s infidelity and your name is going to come up—’
‘Damn it, Anna, did I not just say that I don’t want to talk about it?’
‘But you must! Your reputation as a gentleman is at stake, don’t you understand?’
‘What I understand is that a man’s private business is not his own,’ he snapped. ‘Do you know why I jumped at the chance to come to London? Because I was tired of having to listen to my father’s sanctimonious preaching. Of being told what I could and could not do. I thought that by coming here, I would finally be able to lead my own life. Yet now I find that every move I make is watched and criticised by people I don’t know, and that even you and your father have no qualms about intruding into something that is none of your business.’
‘None of our business?’ Anna repeated in astonishment. ‘How can you say that? You are my father’s godson. We care about you.’
He had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘I’m not saying you don’t.’
‘Then why are you being so defensive? I know you didn’t have an affair with Lady Yew,’ Anna said. ‘For one thing, she’s already married. For another, she must be at least fifteen years older than you.’
‘Since when did either of those things matter to the fine, upstanding members of society?’ Peregrine shot back. ‘Half of London seems to be involved with people other than their wives or husbands. Why should Susan and I be any different?’
‘Susan?’ Anna interrupted, shocked. ‘You call her Susan?’
‘Yes.’ He raised his chin in defiance. ‘What else would one call a good friend?’
‘Given that she happens to be someone else’s wife, I would have thought Lady Yew the more appropriate form of address,’ Anna said, concern lending an edge to her voice.
‘You’re being stuffy, Anna. I didn’t do anything wrong,’ Peregrine said. ‘She gave me leave to speak to her in such a manner.’
‘Really? And what else did she give you leave to do?’
The tips of Peregrine’s ears flamed red. ‘Nothing.’ But when he refused to meet her eyes and began fidgeting with his crop, Anna knew he was lying to her—and she felt the foundations of her world tremble.
So, it was all a lie. Peregrine was involved with Lady Yew. Worse, he was in love with her. He’d given himself away when he’d spoken her name. His mouth had quivered and his eyes had softened, the way a person’s always did when they referred to the man or the woman they cared about deeply.
And she, stupidly, had believed him. She had defended him to both her father and to Sir Barrington Parker, a man she had charged with making a false accusation, when all the while it was Peregrine who had been telling lies.
Needing to regain a measure of calm, Anna turned her back on him, clenching her fists at her side. ‘Since you obviously did not see fit to inform my father of the truth last night, I will have it now,’ she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. ‘Are you having an affair with the Marchioness of Yew?’
‘Anna, please!’
‘Don’t Anna me! I want the truth, Peregrine. People’s reputations are at stake here. Mine included.’
‘Nonsense! This doesn’t concern you!’
She whirled to face him. ‘Of course it concerns me! I spoke up on your behalf,’ she cried. ‘I defended you to someone who was ready to think the worst of you. And I refused to believe them when they told me what you were supposedly guilty of.’
Footsteps on the stairs alerted Anna to the fact that they were standing in a place where anyone might hear them, prompting her to grab Peregrine’s arm and pull him into the drawing room. ‘Furthermore,’ she said, closing the door behind them, ‘I assured Father and this … other gentleman that you couldn’t possibly have been guilty of having an affair with Lady Yew because you didn’t even know her.’
‘But I did know her,’ Peregrine admitted.
‘How? I didn’t introduce the two of you.’
‘No. Edward did.’
‘Edward?’ Anna repeated, confused. ‘But … when were the two of you ever at a society function together?’
‘It wasn’t at a society function we met.’ Peregrine ran his fingers through his hair, hopelessly dishevelling it. ‘Edward had been on at me, saying that if I had any hopes of becoming a gentleman, I needed to educate myself in gentlemanly ways.
That meant knowing how to shoot, how to ride and how to fence. Since I’m already a good rider and I can handle a gun, that only left fencing, a sport to which I’ve had absolutely no exposure. Edward offered to take me to Angelo’s and I met the Marquess of Yew there.’
‘That doesn’t explain how you met his wife,’ Anna pointed out.
‘She was waiting for him outside in their carriage,’ Peregrine said. ‘Edward pointed her out to me when we arrived. When I commented on how beautiful she was, he kindly offered to introduce us.’
Kindly? Anna doubted her brother had ever had a kind thought in his head when it came to Peregrine. ‘All right, so you were introduced. If you knew Lady Yew was married, why did you pursue her?’
‘Because on the way home after the match, Edward told me about their marriage. He said it was a loveless union and that Lady Yew was desperately unhappy because Yew paraded his mistresses right under her nose and didn’t give a damn as to what she thought.’
‘Be that as it may, she is his wife and you were wrong to interfere.’
‘But she doesn’t love him!’ Peregrine said, his voice rising. ‘She told me that what she feels for me is the most wonderful, the most exciting feeling she’s ever experienced, and that when we finally are able to be together—’
‘Together?’ Anna interrupted incredulously. ‘Are you telling me that Lady Yew said she was going to leave her husband?’
‘Not in so many words, but—’
‘Don’t play games with me, Peregrine. Did she or did she not say that she was going to leave her husband?’
‘Not exactly, but—’
‘So she made you no promises that she would run away with you,’ she said flatly.
‘Well, no, but—’
‘There are no buts, Peregrine. Lady Yew has been playing with you.’
‘She wouldn’t do that!’ he said hotly. ‘You don’t understand how it is between us! She loves me!’
‘Love? I doubt the woman knows the meaning of the word,’ Anna said dismissively. ‘In fact, I can give you the names of at least ten other young men with whom she claims to be in love. Men with whom she has flirted and danced and driven nearly insane with jealousy. It’s what she does.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ Peregrine said, stubbornly clinging to his beliefs. ‘She said nothing to me about other men. And even if there were, it doesn’t signify. What she felt for them could be nothing compared to what she feels for me. She said she’s never met anyone like me before.’
Anna sat down, aware that Peregrine was no more educated in the ways of love than poor Mercy Banks. ‘I’m sorry, Peregrine, but Lady Yew is not going to run away with you. Her husband is one of the richest men in England. He owns properties in four counties and his personal worth is staggering. As his wife, Lady Yew is one of the most influential women in society. If you think she would risk throwing that all away to run off with the penniless godson of the Earl of Cambermere, I would advise you to think again.’
‘But Edward said—’
‘I don’t care what Edward said,’ Anna said, though she damn well did care and she intended to talk to her brother at the first opportunity. ‘Tradition is the foundation upon which society is built. Noble families marry into noble families, thereby ensuring that the tradition carries on. Casting discretion to the wind and haring off because you believe yourself in love with someone else’s husband or wife is destructive to the fabric of society—and nobody knows that better than those who occupy its uppermost rungs. I’m sorry, Peregrine, but the kindest thing you can do for yourself is to get over this as quickly as possible and then move on with your life.’
Anna knew it was a sobering speech, but she also knew it was one Peregrine needed to hear. He had to understand that his hopes were futile, that whatever dreams he harboured were as insubstantial as fairy dust.
‘But I love her,’ he whispered, misery inflecting every word. ‘How am I supposed to get over that? I’ve never felt this way about a woman before.’
‘You get over it by waking up each day and telling yourself that she is married to a man who will never divorce her … even if she wished him to.’
Anna said the words as gently as she could, but she still saw Peregrine wince and felt her heart go out to him. It was never easy hearing that the person you loved didn’t love you in return. In fact, finding out that you were little more than a source of amusement, whether it be for an hour or a day, or even a year, was the most devastating thing imaginable. It destroyed your confidence and tore at the very foundation of who you were.
Having been through it, Anna knew exactly how injurious it was to one’s sense of well-being.
For a few minutes, Peregrine just sat there, his brow furrowed, his eyes bleak with despair as he struggled to come to terms with everything she had told him. It was hard waking up from a dream, but he had been indulging in an impossible fantasy; for his own good, Anna knew he had to come back to reality.
He finally stood up and slowly began to walk around the room. ‘Part of my reason for staying out last night,’ he said slowly, ‘was because I was embarrassed. I never expected your father to find out what was going on. I thought it was just between Sus—between Lady Yew and myself.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you did,’ Anna said. ‘But while London might seem like a big city, never forget that there are eyes and ears everywhere. When you play with fire, you will eventually get burned.’
‘I know, but you never really believe that. It’s as though you’re living in a bubble. You can see out, but no one can see in. But, of course, everyone can.’ Peregrine dropped his head and breathed a long, deep sigh. ‘Your father thought it would be a good idea if I were to … write a letter to Lord Yew, apologising for my behaviour. He said that if I promised not to see Lady Yew again, it might … smooth things over with him.’ He raised his head. ‘Do you think he’s right?’
Aware that it was Sir Barrington Parker who had suggested writing the letter, Anna simply inclined her head. ‘I think the letter a good idea, yes. With luck, it will set the marquess’s mind to rest and persuade him to let the matter go. Because if he takes it into his head to persecute you, Peregrine, there will be no future for you in London.’
Peregrine nodded, and for a full five minutes he was silent, reviewing his options. Then, as if realising he had none, he said finally, ‘Very well. I shall write the letter. But I’ll give it to you, rather than to your father. I don’t think he ever wants to see me again.’
‘Don’t be a goose, of course he wants to see you.’
‘You weren’t there,’ Peregrine said ruefully. ‘You didn’t see the look on his face. Why do you think I lied to him, Anna? God knows I didn’t want to. But when I saw how disappointed he was at even having to ask me if I was involved with Lady Yew, I knew I couldn’t tell him the truth. So I lied. That’s why I couldn’t stay here last night,’ Peregrine admitted. ‘I was too ashamed to sleep under the same roof as him. He’s been so good to me. I couldn’t bear to repay him like this.’
‘Oh, Peregrine,’ Anna whispered. ‘If Father was disappointed, it was only because he cares about you and wants you to do well in London. He knows how harsh society can be towards those who flaunt its rules.’
‘Then society is a hypocrite!’ Peregrine cried. ‘I’m not the only man involved with a married woman. There are countless other such affairs going on and everyone knows it!’
‘Yes, and they are tolerated as long as they are conducted discreetly and with neither party voicing an objection,’ Anna told him. ‘But for whatever reason, Lord Yew has chosen to object to the liaison and, as a gentleman, you have no choice but to withdraw.’
The gravity of her words must have penetrated his romantic haze, because for the first time Peregrine seemed to appreciate the magnitude of what he had done. He glanced down at his boots, his mouth working. ‘Very well. I shall go for my ride as planned and while I am out I shall think about what I wish to say. Then, I shall come back and write a letter of apology to Lord Yew.’
Anna did a quick mental calculation. Sir Barrington had said he was meeting with the marquess at two. There wasn’t a hope Peregrine would be back from his ride in time to have the letter finished and delivered by then, which meant she had no choice but to send word to Sir Barrington herself.
‘Peregrine. Have I your word that you will stop seeing Lady Yew, that you will say as much in your letter to Lord Yew?’
Peregrine frowned. ‘Have I not just said I would?’
‘Yes, but I need to be very clear as to your intentions.’
‘From where I stand, I don’t think I have any choice.’
‘Fine. Then off you go on your ride,’ Anna said. ‘I’ll see you at dinner.’
‘Not tonight.’ Peregrine got up and slowly walked towards the door. ‘Edward said he would be dining at home this evening and I have no intention of sitting at the same table and letting him humiliate me any further in front of your father.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘Because I was foolish enough to confide my feelings for Lady Yew to him.’ Peregrine looked at her and sighed. ‘He knew exactly how I felt—and he said nothing at all about it being a hopeless quest.’
Anna needed no further explanation. How could she explain that it was just her brother being himself? ‘I’m sorry, Peregrine. Really, I am. And I know how hard it is not to be with the person you love, but there will be others. You have only to open your heart and let love find you.’
His mouth twisted. ‘I’ve been open to love a long time, Anna, but this is the first time it’s come anywhere close to finding me. Infatuation is one thing, but true love doesn’t come along every day.’
No, it did not, Anna reflected as she sat down to write the letter to Sir Barrington. True love was elusive: as fragile as a sigh, as mysterious as the night. It inspired placid gentlemen to write romantic poetry and sensible young women to lose themselves in dreams. For those lucky enough to find it, love could be a life-altering experience.
But falling in love could also be a painful and humiliating experience, one that shattered a person’s belief in their own self-worth and that was best forgotten as quickly as possible. Her brief, ill-fated liaison with the Honourable Anthony Colder was a prime example of that, as was poor Peregrine’s misplaced affection for Lady Yew. If anyone needed proof of the destructive power of love, they need look no further than that.
Lady Annabelle’s note arrived well in advance of Lord Yew’s visit and while Barrington was relieved that a solution had been found, her words did not make him feel better. Not when he knew what it had cost her to write them.
Sir Barrington,
As time is of the essence and Mr Rand is otherwise occupied, I thought it best to send word of his intentions as quickly as possible. I have been informed that he is indeed guilty of having an affair with the lady in question; however, he has assured me that he intends to end the relationship and that he is willing to confirm the same in a letter addressed to her husband. I hope you will convey these sentiments to the gentleman and that he will find it a satisfactory resolution to the problem.
Neither my father nor Mr Rand has been made aware of this correspondence and I would prefer that it remain that way. As one who has been accused of ‘involving herself in the convoluted lives of others’, I think it the wisest course of action.
It was simply signed ‘Annabelle Durst’ in a clear and legible hand.
So, Mr Peregrine Rand had been unable to maintain his lies in the face of the lady’s questioning. Good—because there was no doubt in Barrington’s mind that Annabelle had questioned him. Profess to believe him she might, but she had still needed to hear from his own lips that he was innocent of the charge and that the rumours were not true.
How devastated she must have been to find out that they were … and how difficult for her to write this note. She had believed wholeheartedly in the young man’s innocence, put trust in her intuition when it came to what he would and would not do—only to discover that her intuition was not strong enough to stand up against the wishes and desires of his own heart. Disillusionment was always a bitter pill to swallow.
He glanced again at the parchment in his hand. Closing his eyes, he raised it to his nose and gently inhaled. Yes, it was still there … a lingering trace of her fragrance, the scent sweet but sensually provocative. An echo of the lady herself. He set the parchment down and walked slowly towards the long window, his mind filled with thoughts of Anna.
It was a long time since a woman had affected him to this degree. Indeed, he wasn’t sure one ever had. For the most part, he’d always believed aristocratic ladies to be like exotic birds: lovely to look at, but troublesome to own. They strutted around society’s stage like the fragile, inconsequential creatures they were, generally offering nothing of substance beyond the ability to play the piano or paint pretty pictures. It was the reason he had found commitment so easy to avoid.
But Lady Annabelle was neither fragile nor inconsequential. She was intelligent. Passionate. The quintessential lady and beautiful beyond all. But beauty without soul had never appealed to him, and it was because she cared so much about other people that Barrington found himself so strongly attracted to her. She cared about Mercy Banks and the host of other silly young women who needed her help in extricating themselves from situations that could have ruined them. She cared about her country visitor, who might well be her half-brother, and about her father, who, with typical male arrogance, was ready to dismiss everything she said. Yes, admirable indeed was the Lady Annabelle Durst. A lady worth getting to know.
And yet, as a result of what had passed between them, Barrington doubted a deeper acquaintance was possible. In his hand, he held her acknowledgement that she had been wrong, and he right. That was the first strike against him. He had proven everything she had most desperately wanted not to believe. She had stood up for a man who hadn’t deserved her loyalty, and she had been let down. Matters would never be easy between them now.
Still, now that he knew the truth about Rand, he would do everything he could to mitigate Lord Yew’s anger and to settle the matter as humanely as possible. As for Rand, if he truly believed himself in love with Lady Yew, he was already suffering enough by having found out what she was really like. No point making it worse by dragging his name through the mud, and by association, the beautiful Lady Anna’s.
The note Anna received from Sir Barrington later that afternoon was brief, but reassuring.
Your note was well timed. I met with Lord Yew, and after being assured of Mr Rand’s willingness to see the error of his ways, the marquess is willing to let the matter go. He will settle for a letter and a promise of restraint on Mr Rand’s part and shall consider the matter closed. I have not written to your father. I leave it to you to inform him of the outcome, and Mr Rand. I remain,
Your most humble servant
B.
Anna folded the letter and tapped it against her chin. So, the matter was resolved. The Marquess of Yew had been informed as to the identity of the guilty party and had been willing to accept an olive branch in the form of a promise and a written apology. Sir Barrington had handled the matter admirably. As long as the marquess honoured his word, Peregrine would be free to go about London without the finger of blame being pointed at him at every turn.
Just as well, since Anna was quite sure he would have bolted had such been the case.
Unfortunately, as she set out for her afternoon visit to the Baroness von Brohm, Anna realised that the entire affair had left a bad taste in her mouth. Not only were her feelings towards Peregrine affected by what she had learned, but her brief acquaintance with Sir Barrington Parker had been tainted by the events they had both unwittingly been drawn into. She had insinuated that he hadn’t known his business, accused him of misjudgement and gloated when she’d believed him wrong. She owed him an apology.
But was he the type of man to whom apologising was easy? She remembered the way he had teased her over her steadfast belief in Peregrine’s innocence, mocking her belief in the man’s inability to tell lies. Would he be condescending of her apology now? Had he been waiting for just such a moment to say, ‘I told you so’? Anna hated to think of him as being deliberately cruel, but, not knowing the nature of the man, she had little else to go on.
She was not at all surprised that thoughts of him occupied her fully during the carriage ride to Mayfair.
Julia von Brohm was not what Anna had been expecting. Thinking to see a pale, unhappy woman in her mid-forties wearing the unrelieved black of a widow still in mourning for her husband, Anna was surprised to be greeted by a slender and very attractive woman of no more than thirty, garbed in a stunning gown of rich burgundy satin. Her honey-brown hair was arranged in a simple but elegant chignon at the nape of her neck, and her eyes were a clear, bright blue that appeared even brighter against the translucent whiteness of her skin.
‘Lady Annabelle,’ the baroness said, extending both hands in greeting. ‘I cannot tell you how pleased I was to receive your note.’
‘And likewise, how pleased I was to receive your acceptance,’ Anna said. ‘I regret that my good friend, Lady Lydia Winston, was unable to come, but her mother was taken to bed with a terrible head pain and required her assistance.’
The baroness’s pretty face softened in sympathy. ‘Poor lady. Having had a mother-in-law who suffered with megrims, I know the role a daughter must play. But I am so pleased that you were brave enough to come on your own.’
Anna tilted her head to one side. ‘Brave?’
‘Come now, Lady Annabella. You must surely have heard the rumours—that I am a lonely widow who cannot stop crying for her late husband. That I am a beautiful woman whose company must be endured, but not enjoyed.’
The smile came easily to Anna’s lips. ‘I knew you were a widow, Baroness, and I assumed that you would be lonely. But I certainly did not hear that you were dismal company or someone to be avoided. And even if I had, I would have come anyway and drawn my own conclusions.’
‘I am very glad to hear it,’ the baroness said in her charmingly accented voice. ‘And I think that you and I are going to become good friends. Ah, Smith,’ she said to the young maid who appeared in the doorway. ‘We shall have tea and a plate of pastries. Cook would be most upset if we did not offer our guest a sampling of her wares.’
As the maid curtsied and withdrew, the baroness turned back to Anna. ‘I hired most of the staff upon my arrival, but dear Frau Hildenbaum has been with my family since I was a girl. She insisted on coming to London with me and when she heard I was having an English lady to tea, she set to work. She has been baking since early this morning.’
‘How delightful, for I confess to a definite weakness for pastries,’ Anna said as she sat down on a comfortable sofa across from the baroness. The room was quite beautiful, the walls papered in pale blue and gold silk, the shades of which were reflected in the carpet and furnishings. An exquisite medieval tapestry was suspended from a brass rod between the two long windows that gave view over the square below, and numerous other works of art adorned the walls. The baroness either had exceptional taste or the good fortune to have ancestors who did.
Even more stunning was her jewellery. Anna’s eyes were repeatedly drawn to the brooch pinned to the bodice of her gown. It was shaped like a flower, with a single piece of amber in the centre and with petals made up of diamonds and rubies.
‘You are admiring my brooch?’ the baroness asked during a lull in the conversation.
Anna looked up, embarrassed to have been caught staring. ‘Yes. Forgive me, but it is so beautiful.’
‘My late husband gave it to me for my twenty-first birthday.’ The baroness’s face glowed. ‘Ulrich spent a lot of time travelling and often came home with little trinkets like this. He had exceptional taste.’
‘Baroness—’
‘Please, won’t you call me Julia?’ she interrupted gently. ‘I have no wish to be so formal with you.’
‘Then you must call me Anna. And I was about to say that your husband must have loved you very much to have given you such an exquisite gift.’
As soon as the words left her lips, Anna regretted having uttered them. She had no wish to invoke unhappy memories for Julia and she feared that mentioning her late husband in such a way might be all that was required to bring them on. But apart from a delicate flush, Julia remained admirably in control of her emotions. ‘He did love me. Ours was a true love match. Not common in our world, I suppose, but I was more fortunate than most.’
‘So it wasn’t an arranged marriage.’
‘Oh, yes, but Ulrich and I fell in love shortly after we were introduced. That probably sounds ridiculous, but it is the truth.’
‘I think you were indeed incredibly fortunate,’ Anna said. ‘I know of so many marriages that are arranged for the benefit of the parties involved and end up being the most dismal of relationships. That is why I always prefer to see marriages based on love. Have you any children, Bar—Julia?’
Where the mention of her husband had not brought tears to her eyes, the mention of children did. ‘Sadly, no. Ulrich and I were not able to conceive a child together. Perhaps if we’d had more time—’
When Julia broke off, Anna leaned over to place her hand over the other woman’s. ‘I am so sorry for your loss, Julia,’ she said gently, ‘but you are young enough to marry again and to bear many healthy children.’
Julia nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. ‘I would like to think so, but if the difficulty in conceiving lies with me, it will not matter who I marry. I know that will serve as a deterrent to certain gentlemen.’
‘Only those looking to set up a nursery,’ Anna said, seeing no point in not stating the obvious. ‘If we are being practical, there are many older gentlemen who would be happy to offer you marriage without children being a condition.’
‘You are kind to say so, Anna, but, in truth, I do not long for a husband. The memory of Ulrich is enough.’
‘But memories won’t keep you warm at night and you are far too beautiful to spend the rest of your life alone,’ Anna pointed out. ‘You must get out in society and start mingling again.’
‘I would like that,’ Julia admitted, ‘but in the three weeks I’ve been here, I have not received a single invitation.’
‘Then we must start the ball rolling.’ Anna smiled, convinced more than ever that she had done the right thing in coming to visit the baroness. She pulled an invitation from her reticule and handed it to Julia. ‘This is from the Countess of Bessmel. It is an invitation to a soirée at her home the evening after next.’
‘An invitation!’ Barely managing to conceal her delight, Julia broke the seal and unfolded the invitation. ‘But we have never met.’
‘I know, but I chanced to be at a breakfast with the countess the other morning and told her I intended paying a call on you. She said she was planning to do the same, but that the pain in her legs was preventing her from getting around. That’s when she asked if I would be good enough to deliver the invitation to you and to say how much she hopes you will attend.’
Julia read the invitation again and her smile brightened immeasurably. ‘This is … so very good of you, Anna. And of Lady Bessmel, of course. I will write at once to accept.’
‘Excellent, because she is looking forward to meeting you,’ Anna said. ‘Lady Lydia will also be there, and with three such highly placed ladies at your side, you can be assured that the rest of society will take notice.’
Julia’s smile was as radiant as the diamonds pinned to her breast. ‘Thank you, Anna. I feel better simply for having met you. And perhaps before you leave, you would like to see some of my other jewellery? I can assure you that a few of the pieces make this brooch look quite plain.’
Chapter Five (#ulink_3907e005-97d0-5a1a-8c51-23b8aab2d880)
Though Barrington did not make a habit of attending all of the society functions to which he was invited, he recognised the wisdom of dropping in on certain, select events. Dark alleys and gentlemen’s clubs were all very well, but he had learned long ago that most of the truly useful gossip was to be overheard in the drawings rooms and ballrooms of society. And given that Lady Bessmel was acknowledged to be one of the finest gossips in London, the thought of missing an event at her magnificent Park Lane mansion was tantamount to professional suicide. Now, as Barrington stood opposite the entrance to the grand ballroom, watching the parade of swirling dancers make their way around the room, he wondered how many darkly held secrets would be exposed tonight.
A quick sweep of the room revealed the usual attendees: blue-blooded aristocrats with their equally blue-blooded wives, a smattering of officers and politicians, some in the present government, some casualties of the last, as well as the miscellaneous collection of ladies and gentlemen who, though not titled, were well born enough to receive the much-coveted invitations. Colonel Tanner was standing at the far side of the room with his pale little wife, but, other than a brief nod in Barrington’s direction, betrayed no sign of having seen him.
Barrington allowed his gaze to move on. He was used to being ignored by those for whom he worked, if one wished to call it that. It was a hazard—or a blessing—of the job, depending on how one looked at it.
Then, suddenly, there was a commotion as three ladies entered together. Lady Annabelle Durst, magnificent in lilac silk, Lady Lydia Winston, lovely in shimmering green, and a third, slightly older but equally striking woman with whom Barrington was not acquainted. She wore an elegant silver-grey gown, long white gloves and a diamond necklace that could have fed London’s poor for a year. And when he heard whispers in the crowd and realised that most of Lady Bessmel’s guests didn’t know who the lady was, he put the pieces together. This must surely be the mysterious Baroness Julia von Brohm.
More importantly, however, it was also the first time he had seen Anna since the arrival of her note acknowledging Peregrine’s guilt. How would she receive him? With haughty indifference or grudging acceptance?
Knowing that the question had to be asked, he crossed the room to where she stood and bowed in front of the three ladies. ‘Good evening, Lady Lydia. Lady Annabelle.’
‘Why, good evening, Sir Barrington,’ Lady Lydia said with unaffected pleasure. ‘How nice to see you again. I thought perhaps you had been in hiding, we have seen so little of you.’
‘Alas, I have been kept busy with work,’ Barrington said, conscious of Anna’s eyes on him.
‘Yes, so I understand,’ Lady Lydia’s eyes sparkled with mischief. ‘I happened to bump into your sister at Hatchard’s the other day. She said you haven’t been round for a visit since the occasion of her last dinner party.’
Barrington’s mouth twisted, remembering his less-than-memorable meeting with Lady Alice Stokes, a pleasant woman with whom he’d had absolutely nothing in common. ‘I will go round and see Jenny this week. And apologise,’ he added with a rueful smile. Then, bowing towards Anna, said, ‘I trust all is well at home, Lady Annabelle?’
‘Yes, thank you, Sir Barrington.’ Her expression was tranquil, but Barrington thought he detected a quiver in her voice. Surely she wasn’t nervous about seeing him again?
‘And Mr Rand?’ he asked.
‘He is doing as well as can be expected, under the circumstances,’ she said quietly. Her hair was drawn softly off her face and caught up with a cluster of deep pink roses. Barrington thought she had never looked lovelier. ‘Are you acquainted with Baroness von Brohm?’ she asked, adroitly changing the subject.
‘I am not,’ Barrington said, turning towards the third lady, who was watching him with undisguised interest. ‘I was hoping I might prevail upon one of you to make the introduction?’
‘With pleasure. Baroness, may I present Sir Barrington Parker,’ Anna said smoothly. ‘Sir Barrington—Baroness Julia von Brohm.’
The lady regally inclined her head. ‘Sir Barrington.’
‘Baroness.’ Barrington bowed over her hand. ‘I’m surprised it has taken this long for us to meet, given that word of your arrival has been swirling for weeks.’
‘There has been a great deal to do and I have kept much to myself,’ the baroness admitted. ‘But Lady Annabelle felt it was time to make my appearance in society and I am grateful to her and Lady Bessmel for their kindness in making it happen.’
‘We decided to take Julia under our wing,’ Anna explained. ‘I’m sure you won’t find that surprising, given what you know of me.’
Barrington wasn’t sure if she was taking him to task, but when he saw the twinkle in her eye, he allowed himself to hope that the remark intended nothing of the sort. ‘Yet another convoluted life exercise?’ he ventured.
He was relieved to see her smile, and for the first time since the arrival of her note, he felt himself breathe properly again.
‘Ah, Parker, good evening,’ Lord Cambermere said, joining them. ‘Might have known I’d find you hoarding the three most beautiful women in the room.’
‘On the contrary, having only just made the baroness’s acquaintance, I cannot be accused of hoarding. Especially since the other two ladies are as well known to you as they are to me.’
‘Julia, allow me to introduce my father, Lord Cambermere,’ Anna said with a smile. ‘Papa, Baroness von Brohm.’
The earl’s gaze sharpened, a man appreciating the beauty of a woman. ‘I had heard of your arrival, Baroness, and am compelled to say that Vienna’s loss is our gain. I trust you are enjoying life in London?’
‘To be honest, I have experienced very little of it, Lord Cambermere,’ the baroness replied. ‘As I told your daughter, I have been busy setting up my household. There has not been much time for sightseeing or socialising.’
‘But now that Julia is finished with all that, I have assured her that we shall be seeing a great deal more of her in society,’ Anna said. ‘Tonight is her début, if you will.’
‘And a splendid début it is,’ the earl said quietly. ‘Would you allow me to introduce you to a few of my friends, Baroness? Having seen me in conversation with you, they will not forgive me if I neglect to do so.’
Barrington saw the look of pleasure that warmed the baroness’s face, but also noticed the look of startled surprise on Anna’s. Obviously she wasn’t used to her widowed father paying court to a beautiful woman, especially one who was also so recently widowed. But, true to form, she recovered with swiftness and grace. ‘Yes, do go, Julia. Papa knows everyone and he is perfectly respectable. Just don’t start him talking about horses.’
‘Oh, but I love horses!’ the Baroness was quick to say. ‘My late husband’s stable was one of the finest in Vienna.’
‘Good Lord,’ the earl said, leaning forwards. ‘Never tell me that your late husband was Captain Baron Ulrich von Brohm?’
A soft gasp escaped the baroness. ‘Yes. Did you know him?’
‘I most certainly knew of him. I read several of his papers on early equine development and thought his ideas were nothing short of brilliant.’ The earl offered the lady his arm. ‘I would be honoured to have a chance to speak to you about him.’
As an opening gambit, it couldn’t have been better. Barrington watched the baroness place her gloved hand on Cambermere’s sleeve, aware that her eyes were bright with interest as they rested on his face. They were already talking about horses as he led her away, prompting Barrington to wonder how many of the earl’s friends were likely to be introduced to the beautiful baroness that evening.
‘I think you have a success on your hands, Anna,’ Lady Lydia whispered. ‘If everyone else is as taken with the baroness as your father, we will surely see her married before the end of the Season!’
Barrington tended to echo Lady Lydia’s assessment, though he wondered how Anna felt at having her father’s affection for the woman so bluntly stated. It wasn’t always easy for daughters to accept a new woman into their father’s life, especially daughters who still lived at home. The arrival of a stepmother could make their lives hellish. Still, given the friendship that seemed to exist between Anna and the baroness, Barrington doubted that would be the case here.
‘Sir Barrington,’ she said suddenly, breaking into his thoughts, ‘I wonder if I might have a word with you? In private.’
He turned to find her sapphire gaze fixed on him. ‘By all means.’
‘Then I shall go and speak to Lady Bessmel,’ Lady Lydia said promptly. ‘She mentioned having received news of her son in Scotland and I have been longing to hear how Thomas goes on. I shall catch up with you later, Anna. Good evening, Sir Barrington.’
Barrington inclined his head, but he noticed that Anna waited until her friend was far enough away so as not to hear their conversation before turning to him and saying, ‘I hoped I would have a chance to speak to you this evening, Sir Barrington. I’m sure we both recognise that I owe you an apology with regard to Peregrine.’
Barrington studied the face upturned to his, aware that it exposed far more than she realised. ‘You owe me nothing, Lady Annabelle. I took no pleasure in being the bearer of bad news.’
‘Nevertheless, I accused you of dealing in false information and that was a criticism of your professional conduct. For that, an apology must be offered.’
‘Must be?’ he repeated. ‘Am I to conclude that you do not wish to apologise?’
Her gaze clouded over, a tiny frown appearing between her brows. ‘Please don’t misunderstand. If I appear reluctant to admit my error, it is only because it has caused me to question things about myself that I’ve not had reason to question before. I thought I knew Peregrine better than anyone. Certainly better than you. And I believed I was right in defending him when you first charged him with the affair. But, as it turns out, I really didn’t know him at all. I was convinced he would never do something so foolish as to engage in an affair, yet that’s exactly what he did.’
‘But you and I both know that Mr Rand is not the first man to catch Lady Yew’s eye, nor will he be the last,’ Barrington said. ‘She is the type of a woman who needs constant attention. Sadly, he is just the latest on a very long list of conquests.’
‘I know, but that doesn’t make it any better,’ Anna said ruefully. ‘And it certainly doesn’t excuse what he did.’
‘Love makes its own excuses. It has ever been thus.’
‘Perhaps, but what disturbs me the most is that he truly believed she loved him.’
‘He will get over it,’ Barrington said with a smile. ‘He is a young man and all young men must fall in love with at least one unsuitable woman in their life. It is a rite of passage. Useful in teaching us what to watch out for when we do finally go looking for a wife.’
Her smile was a reluctant twisting of her lips. ‘I wish I could be as convinced of that as you, but when I see him suffering …’
‘Women pine for love not found while men suffer from love already lost. It is our Achilles’ heel, if you will. And for what it’s worth, I suspect Rand was more in love with the idea of being in love than he was with the actual act of loving,’ Barrington said, hoping to ease her guilt. ‘By all accounts, he liked to read to her and she enjoyed listening to him.’
He saw a tiny smile lift the corners of her mouth. ‘Peregrine has a lovely speaking voice. Not as mellifluous as yours, of course, but I expect he would have done well on the stage.’
She liked his voice. There was really no reason the compliment should have meant anything to him, but it did. Strange the things a man clung to. ‘Regardless, I think it little more than a case of boyish infatuation. Lady Yew is a beautiful woman. She was probably flattered that a good-looking man so much younger than she would find her attractive and offered more encouragement than she should.’
‘For all the good it did either of them,’ Anna said with an edge to her voice. ‘But I am sorry, Sir Barrington. You told me that collecting information was what you did and you obviously do it very well. I will not be so foolish as to doubt you again.’
Barrington inclined his head, wondering why he felt as though she was saying goodbye. ‘With luck, there will be no occasion for us to find ourselves in a situation like this again.’
Then she smiled and, with her very next words, confirmed his suspicions. ‘I suppose not. In fact, given what we know of each other, I doubt our paths will have any reason to cross again.’
As expected, the baroness’s introduction to London society was a complete success and doors that had been closed to her in the past were suddenly thrown open with abandon. Society embraced her with the fervour of a shepherd welcoming home a long-lost lamb and gentlemen flocked to her side, eager to secure favour.
Because she was seen to be such good friends with Lady Bessmel and the daughters of the Earl of Cambermere and the Marquess of Bailley, her name constantly appeared high on the list of society events, both intimate and grand. Not surprisingly, Anna’s brother and father were frequent visitors to Julia’s afternoon salons, though the earl was very careful not to do anything that might result in scandal being attached to her name. He never stayed longer than was appropriate, or tried to take up too much of her time. But it was noted and remarked upon, after several society gatherings where both were in attendance, that the widowed Earl of Cambermere was evidencing a marked partiality for the company of the beautiful Baroness von Brohm.
Naturally, Julia was delighted with all the attention, but Anna noticed that she, too, was careful not to indicate a preference for any one gentleman over another, perhaps because she was still clinging to the memory of her late husband. But she was a gracious and entertaining guest, and though her list of contacts grew by the day, she never forgot that it was Anna’s kindness that had originally launched her into society.
As such, she decided to hold a dinner party in Anna’s honour, inviting, along with the rest of her family, twenty other guests including Lord and Lady Bessmel and Lady Lydia Winston. Knowing the company would be very smart, Anna decided to wear one of her newest gowns, an elegant creation in pale gold silk, a colour that was exceedingly flattering to her fair complexion. Her hair was arranged in a loose cluster of curls with a few wisps hanging free to frame her face. Elbow-length gloves, her mother’s pearls and a light sweep of colour across her cheeks were all that were required to complete the ensemble.
Half an hour later, she stepped out of the carriage in front of Julia’s house, with her father and Edward close behind. Both looked very elegant in their black-and-white evening attire, her father especially so. Peregrine, who was still reluctant to show his face in society, had decided to remain at home.
‘Good thing, too,’ Edward said in the disparaging tone he always used when Peregrine’s name came up. ‘No point the boy thinking he’s entitled to move in good society when it’s obvious he belongs in the country.’ He plucked a strand of hair from the sleeve of his jacket. ‘Besides, he’d likely just embarrass us in front of the baroness. He does, after all, have an eye for older women.’
‘That was unkind,’ Anna said flatly. ‘You are as much to blame for Peregrine’s fall from grace as he is.’
‘I don’t see how. I wasn’t the one who jumped into bed with Lady Yew.’
‘Don’t be coarse, Edward, and please keep your voice down,’ Anna said in a fierce whisper. ‘You shouldn’t have told him about the state of their marriage.’
‘My dear Anna, there isn’t a soul in London who doesn’t know the state of the Yews’ marriage,’ Edward said blandly. ‘Why should I have left Rand in ignorance? He would have found out sooner or later. And just because I told him Lady Yew was open to lovers didn’t mean he had to go sniffing after her as though she were a bitch in season. And you needn’t look at me like that,’ he said when she turned a chilling glance on him. ‘You’re too old to pretend an ignorance of what goes on between a man and a woman. I know how besotted you were over Anthony Colder.’
Anna winced, the mere sound of the man’s name causing her pain. ‘I would thank you not to mention him in my presence again.’
‘Why not? Surely you’re not still pining over the fellow. He wasn’t worth it, you know. The stories I could tell—’
‘This conversation is over,’ Anna said coldly. ‘Please keep your opinions to yourself and refrain from making damaging comments about Peregrine in public, lest you find yourself defending rumours about your own less than sterling behaviour.’
‘My behaviour?’ Her brother’s eyes widened in a credible imitation of innocence. ‘What possible concern could you have about that?’
‘I see no need to explain myself. We are both aware of your reputation with women.’
He slowly began to smile, clearly enjoying himself. ‘And what have you heard about my reputation, pray tell?’
‘Amongst other things, that you are fickle and heartless,’ Anna said, boldly meeting his gaze. ‘We’ve gone through three maids in the last year and I suspect your unwelcome attentions towards them had much to do with the reasons they all left. If you must indulge yourself, kindly do so in a manner that does not disrupt the household or result in frightened young girls being sent back to the country in tears.’
His eyes narrowed and for a long moment he stared at her in silence. ‘Well, well, so the pretty bird has sharp talons,’ he murmured finally. ‘Who would have guessed?’
‘Guessed what?’ their father asked, joining them.
‘Nothing.’ Anna turned her back on Edward, shutting out his obnoxious comments and his condescending gaze. She knew he enjoyed goading her and most of the time she was able to rise above his petty teasing, to treat his remarks with the chilly disdain they deserved. But tonight he’d touched a nerve and, despite her best intentions, she had lashed out at him, a reaction she would no doubt come to regret. ‘We should go in. I have no desire to keep the Baroness waiting.’
They were escorted by the butler into an elegant drawing room where most of the guests had already assembled. Anna saw Lydia talking to Lord and Lady Bessmel and smiled in acknowledgement of her friend’s wave. She left her father and brother and went to join them.
‘Good evening, Lord Bessmel, Lady Bessmel,’ she greeted the older couple. ‘And, Lydia, I’m so pleased to see you. How is your mother this evening?’
‘Much better, thank heavens,’ the girl said, clearly relieved. ‘This last megrim has been very difficult for her, but the doctor gave her something that seems to be helping. But what an exquisite gown, Anna. Surely one of Madame Delors’s?’
‘I thought the occasion demanded something suitably festive.’ Anna took a deep breath and glanced around the room. She had no idea if Sir Barrington had been invited, but she found herself looking for him regardless. ‘Have you seen our hostess yet?’
‘No, but I expect she will be down shortly.’
‘Not the thing for a lady to be late for her own dinner party,’ Lord Bessmel remarked.
‘Patience, Harry,’ Lady Bessmel said, patting her husband’s arm. ‘I’m sure the baroness is simply waiting for the right moment to make her appearance. Most Europeans have a flair for the dramatic. But what lovely pearls, Annabelle. Your mother’s, if I’m not mistaken.’
‘Yes,’ Anna said, surprised that the countess would recognise them. ‘How did you know?’
‘I remember her wearing them. White or pink pearls are relatively common, but that shade of gold is quite rare.’
‘They were a gift to her from Papa,’ Anna said fondly. ‘He always said Mama had the perfect complexion for them.’
‘She did. Fortunately, so do you and they go perfectly with your gown, which I must tell you is absolutely exquisite. But look, I do believe the baroness comes.’
As expected, all eyes turned towards the door where the baroness, resplendent in sapphire satin, stood for a moment framed in the doorway. Her lovely face was wreathed in smiles, but Anna was quite sure it wasn’t her smile or her gown that caused the collective gasp of astonishment that echoed around the room, but the magnificent diamond-and-sapphire necklace that was draped around her throat.
‘Forgive me, dear friends, but a minor crisis upstairs delayed my arrival,’ she announced to her assembled guests. ‘I trust you have been attended to in my absence.’
‘We have been very well treated,’ Lord Bessmel said as the baroness joined them. ‘The important thing is that you are here now and looking quite spectacular, if you don’t mind my saying so.’
‘I don’t mind you saying so at all, Lord Bessmel,’ Julia said with a soft gurgle of laughter. ‘In fact, I am convinced it is the one thing a lady never tires of hearing. Anna, my dear,’ she said, pressing her cheek to Anna’s. ‘How beautiful you look tonight. You will most certainly rob the gentlemen of their senses. And, Lady Lydia, how delightful to see you again. I trust your mother is feeling better?’
‘She is, Julia, thank you; she is so sorry she couldn’t be here this evening. Unfortunately, noise tends to aggravate her condition.’
‘I understand,’ Julia said with a sympathetic nod. ‘Megrims are such tiresome things. You are lucky not to be afflicted.’
‘Good evening, Baroness.’
Julia turned and her smile brightened. ‘Lord Cambermere, Lord Hayle, I am so pleased you were both able to attend.’
‘An opportunity to spend time in the company of a beautiful woman should never be missed,’ Cambermere said as he brushed his lips over her hand in a courtly, old-world gesture. ‘And may I say you look magnificent this evening.’
A becoming flush rose in her cheeks. ‘You are very kind to say so.’
‘Kindness has nothing to do with it,’ the earl assured her. ‘I’m sure there isn’t a gentleman in the room who doesn’t agree with me.’
‘Fortunately, most of them come with wives,’ Edward cut in smoothly. ‘Those of us who are single definitely have the advantage this evening.’
His smile was charismatic and his words flattering. Anna saw her father’s expression falter as Edward neatly inserted himself between them, but Julia’s attention was already diverted, her head turned towards the door. ‘And here is yet another handsome gentleman come to join our group. Good evening, Sir Barrington.’
Anna hadn’t needed to hear Barrington’s name to know that he was in the room. She’d felt the atmosphere change, a subtle quickening of interest as he crossed the floor like a sleek black panther moving through the forest. She saw heads turn, watched eyes widen and flirtatious smiles disappear behind discreetly raised fans. Obviously she wasn’t the only one impressed by the width of his shoulders and the unfathomable depths of those cool grey eyes—
‘Anna!’
Hearing Lydia’s voice, Anna turned, but it wasn’t until she saw the slight widening of her friend’s eyes that she realised she had been staring. Botheration! The last thing she needed was Sir Barrington Parker mistakenly thinking she was interested in him. Or worse, infatuated by him.
Fortunately, the gentleman seemed completely unaware of her preoccupation, his attention now focused solely on his hostess. ‘Good evening, Baroness,’ he greeted her in that distinctively low, seductive voice. ‘Forgive my late arrival. I was unavoidably detained.’
‘You owe us no apologies, Sir Barrington,’ Julia said easily. ‘You are here now and that is all that matters. I believe you know everyone?’
Sir Barrington nodded, his gaze touching briefly on each of them as he paid his respects. Finally, he turned to Anna, his mouth curving in that maddeningly provocative smile. ‘Lady Annabelle.’
‘Sir Barrington,’ she said, wishing she possessed even a fraction of his composure. ‘We have not seen much of you this past while.’
‘I was out of London for a few days on business, but made sure to return in time for this evening’s gathering.’
‘And for the fencing demonstration,’ Lord Bessmel said with a wink.
Sir Barrington turned to stare at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘The fencing demonstration. The one Lord Yew asked you to put on.’
‘Forgive me, Lord Bessmel, but I am not aware I was giving a fencing demonstration. Where did you hear news of it?’
‘From Lord Hadley,’ the older man replied. ‘He said he’d heard you speaking to Lord Yew, and that you had agreed to a series of open engagements at Angelo’s.’
‘Open engagements?’ Anna repeated. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It means that every red-blooded male capable of lifting a sword will be there looking to take Parker on,’ Bessmel explained with a smile. ‘Should make for a damn good show!’
Anna glanced at Sir Barrington in bewilderment. Surely Lord Bessmel was mistaken. Sir Barrington Parker didn’t give demonstrations. Everyone knew that. And if he did choose to spar, it would be with someone of his own choosing.
Could this be the Marquess of Yew’s doing? she wondered. Had he demanded this of Sir Barrington as well as everything he had already asked of Peregrine? ‘Is this true, Sir Barrington?’ she asked in a low voice. ‘Is this what you agreed to do?’
‘Not exactly,’ he murmured. ‘What I agreed to was a private lesson with Yew’s son, pointing out areas where he might improve. I certainly said nothing about a series of engagements with anyone who felt up to sparring with me.’
‘But I fear that is what everyone is expecting,’ Bessmel said, adding hesitantly, ‘are you going to back out?’
‘Surely it cannot be called backing out when one never agreed to it in the first place,’ Lydia objected.
‘I wouldn’t have thought so,’ Sir Barrington agreed, ‘but I shall speak to Lord Yew about it when next I see him.’ Then, seemingly unconcerned, he turned his attention to their hostess again. ‘Baroness, that is an exceptionally beautiful necklace.’
‘Why, thank you, Sir Barrington.’ Julia caressed the deep blue stones with loving fingers. ‘My late husband bought it for me. He knew my partiality for sapphires.’
‘It is a remarkable piece of workmanship,’ Cambermere agreed. ‘I hope you keep it safely locked away.’
‘I haven’t thus far.’ Julia’s eyes widened. ‘Is London such a dangerous place that one need fear being robbed in one’s own home?’
‘Not as a rule, but I regret to say there have been a series of jewel thefts in London of late,’ Sir Barrington informed her. ‘I understand Lord Houghton’s home was broken into two nights ago and a number of valuable items taken.’
‘You should be on guard yourself, Cambermere,’ Bessmel said. ‘I dare say your daughter’s pearls are worth a pretty penny.’
‘They are, but I suspect to Anna, like myself, their value is far more sentimental.’ The earl turned to smile at her. ‘My wife loved pearls. She always said they drew their warmth from the one who wore them. I gave her that necklace on our wedding day.’
‘Was your wife born in June, my lord?’ Julia enquired.
Cambermere looked surprised by the question. ‘She was.’
‘Then she was fortunate to be able to wear them without tears. It is considered bad luck to give a bride pearls unless they are her birthstone.’
‘Then you must also have been born in June, Lady Annabelle,’ Sir Barrington said quietly, ‘for the pearls to glow so richly against your skin.’
Anna felt her cheeks grow warm at the subtle caress in his voice. ‘On the contrary, my birthday is in September.’
‘Then, like the baroness, you should be wearing sapphires.’
‘I say, Cambermere, these women could bankrupt us if they were of a mind to!’ Lord Bessmel said with a hearty laugh. ‘Now you will have to go out and buy your daughter a string of sapphires, just to appease the superstitious amongst us.’
‘I think not,’ Anna said quickly. ‘Sapphires are beautiful stones, but, like Mama, I prefer the warmth of pearls.’
‘I can understand why,’ Sir Barrington said as the others turned away to chat amongst themselves. ‘They are exceptional, as is the lady wearing them.’
Anna slowly raised her eyes to his face, aware of the fire in his eyes as his gaze lingered on her necklace. The low décolleté of the gown exposed far more skin than she was used to and she could almost feel the heat of his eyes burning her. When he finally raised his eyes to meet hers, the desire in them was plain. Was it any wonder her heart was beating double time?
Thankfully, Julia, catching the eye of her butler, said, ‘Dear guests, shall we proceed to the dining room? I do believe dinner is served.’
Chapter Six (#ulink_7624a40b-568f-512f-baf6-e44a7eab76e6)
At the conclusion of an exceptional meal, the baroness led the ladies into the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to enjoy masculine conversation, good cigars and several fine bottles of port. Barrington, who enjoyed these sessions more for the information they provided than for the chance to socialise, accepted the offer of a light from Viscount Hayle, who settled into the chair next to his. Noticing the man’s obvious boredom, Barrington said, ‘Is the evening not to your liking, Hayle?’
Hayle slanted him a mocking glance. ‘I get tired of listening to men like Bessmel and Richards bickering over political situations about which they know nothing. It’s a waste of everyone’s time and, frankly, I’d rather spend the night gambling or in the arms of a mistress.’
Barrington drew on his cigar, taking a moment to study the other man through the rising curl of smoke. ‘I’m surprised Mr Rand didn’t come with you tonight. I thought he usually accompanied your sister to these kinds of events.’
‘He was invited but, thankfully, he declined,’ Hayle said tersely. ‘It’s bad enough having him around the house all the time, let alone being forced into society with him.’
‘You do not care for Mr Rand?’
‘Would you?’ Hayle fired back.
Barrington was startled by the flash of raw emotion he saw in the other man’s eyes and wondered if Hayle knew how much of himself he had given away. ‘I’m not sure I know what you mean.’
‘Then you’re the only one who doesn’t,’ Hayle muttered. ‘All you have to do is look at Rand to know he’s no more my father’s godson than he is the bloody Prince of Wales’s.’
So, that was it. The son suspected the connection and wasn’t in the least happy about it. Barrington tapped ash from the end of his cigar. ‘I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t heard rumours, but I don’t believe anything’s been substantiated.’
‘Of course not. My father’s the only one who can substantiate rumours like that and you can be damn sure he’s not going to. Not now that he’s met the baroness.’ Hayle’s eyes narrowed as he glared at his father sitting farther up the table. ‘It’s embarrassing the way he carries on with her. God knows, he’s old enough to be her father.’
‘I take it you do not care for the fact that the earl and the baroness seem to like one another?’
‘I do not. It’s unseemly the way he follows her around, hanging on every word she says. He might just as well come out and ask her to go to bed with him.’
Barrington reached for his glass of port, intrigued by the depth of vitriol pouring from the other man. ‘I think you judge them too harshly. Your father is an amiable gentleman and the baroness is an exceedingly gracious woman. And as they are both widowed, why should they not enjoy one another’s company?’
‘There is a considerable difference in their ages.’
Barrington shrugged. ‘The baroness can’t be any more than twenty-nine or thirty, and your father is, what … in his late forties? There are far wider gaps in age between husbands and wives in society.’
Hayle slowly began to smile. ‘Yes. Like Lord Yew and his wife. But then, I suspect you already know all about that.’
Barrington inhaled deeply on his cigar. Hayle was bound to know about Peregrine’s folly, but he was damned if he’d be the one to shed any light on the matter. When it came to secrets, he was as adept at keeping them as he was at prying them out of others.
Fortunately, Hayle didn’t appear to be in need of an answer. ‘How much do you think that sapphire necklace is worth?’ he asked instead.
Barrington’s shrug was carefully non-committal. ‘I’m no expert, but, given the size and quality of the stones, I should think it considerable.’
‘Enough to keep a man in brandy and cigars for the rest of his life, I’ll wager.’
‘Probably. How fortunate that you and I need not worry about such things.’
Hayle snorted. ‘Speak for yourself.’
Barrington’s gaze sharpened. ‘You are your father’s heir.’
‘Oh, yes. But as he’s still in his forties and hale and hearty, I’m not likely to inherit any time soon,’ Hayle said sourly. ‘So, what’s your connection with the baroness?’
‘We have no connection, per se,’ Barrington said, aware that the man changed subjects more often than a lady changed her mind. ‘We were introduced by your sister at Lady Bessmel’s reception and have seen each other at a few society gatherings since, but nothing beyond that.’ He gazed at the earl’s son through a fine wisp of smoke. ‘I understand it was your sister’s idea to launch the baroness into society.’
‘Of course it was. Anna loves to manage other people’s lives. Personally, I think her time would be better spent smoothing her way into some man’s bed,’ Hayle said in a disagreeable tone, adding when he saw Barrington’s stern look, ‘After she marries him, of course. Anna would never do anything as irresponsible as compromise herself. But it’s long past time she was wed. Father’s too soft. He won’t force her into an arranged marriage, even though he knows it would be best for all concerned.’
‘I’m sure your sister would have no problem finding a husband if that was something she truly wanted,’ Barrington said, careful to keep the annoyance from his voice. ‘She is an exceedingly beautiful woman.’
‘But meddlesome and outspoken,’ Hayle remarked. ‘Men don’t like that in a wife. They want quiet, biddable women who know their place. Anna is neither biddable nor accommodating, as I’m sure you know from the brief time you’ve spent with her. Mind, I’ve heard her mention your name more than once and that’s saying something. Better watch yourself, Parker, or she’ll have you in the parson’s mousetrap before you can turn around.’ He drained the contents of his glass, then signalled the waiter for a refill. ‘So, I hear you’re giving a fencing demonstration at Angelo’s this week.’
Barrington’s hand tightened on his glass. ‘No. I am giving Lord Yew’s son a lesson. In private.’
‘I heard you were going to fight.’
‘You heard wrong.’
‘But why wouldn’t you fight?’ Hayle asked. ‘You’re reputed to be the finest swordsman in London. Why not show everyone that you are?’
‘Because that’s not what I do.’
‘Then why are you giving Yew’s boy a lesson?’
‘I agreed to it as a favour to the marquess. I also happen to like Lord Gerald. He shows a great deal of promise with the foil and he is anxious to better himself.’
‘Maybe, but you’ll never make a fighter of him. He’s too soft,’ Hayle said. ‘He hasn’t the heart for it. You’d do far better sparring with me. At least I’d give you a run for your money. So what do you say? Are you up for it?’
Barrington’s expression was deceptively benign. He was used to cocky young men challenging him. At one time, he’d encouraged it, fond of pitting his skills against all comers. But that game had lost its appeal years ago.
He was about to say as much when the door to the dining room opened and one of the younger maids walked in. He hadn’t noticed her earlier in the evening, which meant she likely hadn’t been in the room. He would certainly have remembered her if she had. She was somewhere in her early twenties, with dark brown hair and rather startling green eyes—
Barrington stiffened. Green eyes and dark brown hair. Was it possible he’d found Colonel Tanner’s elusive Miss Paisley? If so, he wasn’t surprised that the Colonel had asked him to look for her. Though petite, she had a lush, curving figure that was nicely displayed in the black gown and white apron. Her face was heart shaped and delicate and she had a truly lovely smile. But equally aware of having drawn the attention of nearly every man in the room, her cheeks turned bright pink as she made her way towards the butler, who was standing in the corner overseeing the proceedings.
A whispered conversation followed, during which the butler’s heavy eyebrows drew together in annoyance. Then, with a flick of his hand, he dismissed her.
As she headed back in their direction, Barrington noticed Hayle doing a leisurely appraisal of her charms. Then, slowly raising his glass, he watched her over the rim and when she was no more than five feet away, coughed. Not discreetly, as a gentleman might, but in a manner that was guaranteed to draw attention.
The girl glanced in their direction—and her step faltered.
Barrington heard her breath catch and saw her eyes widen as they met those of the man sitting next to him. Beside him, Hayle just smiled. Coldly. Like a spider watching a fly, knowing it was doomed.
The butler, noticing her standing in the middle of the room, said sharply, ‘Be off with you, girl!’
She went, all but running to the door. Hayle turned away, seemingly uninterested. ‘Bloody endless evening,’ he muttered into his glass.
But the girl didn’t leave. Barrington saw her hesitate by the door, saw her turn around to take one last look at Hayle, and the expression in her eyes said it all.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Barrington remarked, drawing deeply on his cigar. ‘Seems to me it’s all in how you look at it.’
Anna was seated at the pianoforte playing an air by Bach when the drawing-room door opened and the gentlemen filed in. She knew the piece well enough not to be flustered by their arrival and kept on playing, watching with interest as they took their various seats and settled into conversation with the ladies. Her father stopped to chat with Lady Bessmel, but eventually ended up at Julia’s side. His face was flushed and he was smiling. No doubt the result of an extra glass of port after dinner.
Edward spoke briefly to Lady Lydia Winston, but, judging from the expression on her face, the conversation was not at all to her liking. She stiffly got up and walked away. Edward just laughed.
‘I was going to ask if I might turn the pages for you,’ Sir Barrington said, quietly appearing at her side. ‘But since it’s obvious you play from memory, I doubt you are in need of my help.’
The glow of his smile warmed her. ‘Nevertheless, it is kind of you to offer, Sir Barrington.’
‘Kindness had nothing to do with it. I was looking for an excuse to talk to you.’
Anna was tempted to ask why he felt the need of an excuse, but the teasing quip died on her lips when she saw the way he was looking down at her. ‘About something in particular?’
‘Of course.’ He stared a moment longer, before turning his attention back to the room.
Anna kept her eyes on the keyboard, waiting for her breathing to settle. Would it always be like this? Was she destined to feel this trembling excitement every time Barrington drew near? She certainly hoped not. It wouldn’t bode well for their friendship if she did.
She cast a sideways glance at him and knew he was taking it all in. Making mental lists about the people and situations that intrigued him. Watching. Always watching.
‘It must get tiresome,’ she said at length. ‘Always having to watch the behaviour of others.’
He turned back to smile at her, one eyebrow raised in amusement. ‘That depends on your point of view. Some people spend their entire lives studying the behaviour of others. Wanting to know what their friends and acquaintances are doing. It’s called being nosy and society suffers from it excessively.’
Her lips twitched. ‘That’s quite true, but what you do is entirely different.’
‘Why would you say so?’
‘Because you don’t watch people with the intention of catching them doing something wrong. You watch with a view to catalogue it all for future reference. You notice who they speak to and who they ignore, if they drink too much or not at all, and if they dance with that person and not this one.’
‘You make me sound rather devious,’ he observed.
‘No. Just observant. Something that probably serves you well given the nature of your … occupation.’
The piece of music came to an end and Anna rose to the polite applause of the guests. Miss Constantine was to play next, and as that young lady moved forwards to take her place at the piano, Anna dropped back and fell in beside Barrington.
‘Did I detect a note of censure in your voice just then?’ he asked as they slowly walked away from the instrument.
Did he? Anna didn’t like to think she was revealing too much of herself, but with him, it wasn’t always easy to know. ‘I have the feeling, Sir Barrington, that one is never entirely safe around you. You see a great deal without ever giving the appearance of actually looking. That makes you dangerous.’
‘Only to those with something to hide. The innocent have no reason to fear me.’ His eyes found hers and held them captive. ‘I trust you do not find me dangerous, Lady Annabelle?’
‘Danger comes in many forms. I suspect knowing a man like you does not come without risks.’
‘Life does not come without risks,’ he said softly. ‘But you’re right. A man like myself is always more of a target, as are the people who associate with me.’
Thinking he was being overly dramatic, Anna smiled and said, ‘In that case, you’d best warn Miss Erickson to keep her distance.’
‘Miss Erickson?’
‘Miss Sofia Erickson. I happen to know she is very fond of you.’
Barrington said, ‘I’m not sure I know her.’
‘Of course you do. Eldest daughter of Viscount Oswell and recently returned from visiting her aunt in Edinburgh. She made her come out this Season and has already been acknowledged as one of its greatest successes. She speaks French and Italian fluently, is an accomplished rider, and an exceptional singer.’
A smile ruffled his mouth. ‘And have you had occasion to save the young lady from herself?’
‘Good Lord, no.’ The sensual curve of his lips brought a series of highly inappropriate thoughts to mind, but Anna forced herself to ignore them. ‘She is one of the most intelligent young women I’ve ever met. She is mindful of the proprieties and quite capable of telling a gentleman to watch his manners if she feels he is out of line.’
‘Tell me, how do you come to be so involved in the lives of all these young women?’ Barrington asked curiously as they sat down together on the velvet settee. ‘Surely your father would wish you to pay more attention to your own future than chasing around after everyone else’s?’
Anna felt the familiar warmth creep into her cheeks—an annoyingly common occurrence since meeting this man. ‘One can do both at the same time. Helping someone else navigate the path towards marriage does not mean I cannot walk the path myself.’
‘But if you are too busy looking out for the welfare of others, how can you see to your own?’
‘I hardly think I am doing one to the exclusion of the other,’ Anna said defensively. ‘Besides, what I do for these girls is important. All too often they find themselves swept up in the emotion of the moment and don’t stop to think about the repercussions.’
‘And so you step in,’ he said softly. ‘Like you did with Mercy Banks and Fiona Whitfield, and God knows how many others, in an attempt to save them from themselves.’
‘It is all very well for you to mock me, Sir Barrington, but you cannot deny that—’ Anna broke off to stare at him. ‘How did you know I was involved with Fiona Whitfield?’
‘Do you really need ask?’
‘Yes, I fear I must. Fiona’s mother and father were adamant that word of what happened to Fiona not leak out. I gave them my word that I would say nothing and, since the young man was sent abroad, I don’t see how you could possibly be aware of what took place.’
‘As it happens, I was making enquiries into the activities of Miss Whitfield’s uncle,’ Barrington told her. ‘I learned of your association with the family at that time. And though I did not delve into the particulars of Miss Whitfield’s situation, I did learn of your involvement with her whilst speaking to another family member.’
Anna gasped. ‘Someone else knew what happened to Fiona?’
‘I’m afraid so. But, like you, they were sworn to secrecy. And it worked out well enough in the end. She married Lord Priestley’s son earlier this year and I understand they are very happy together.’
‘Yes, thank goodness. It could have turned out so badly for her, and all because of that despicable man.’ Anna sighed. ‘It really isn’t fair, you know. A man may tempt a woman with honeyed words and longing looks, yet she is the one who must behave with propriety at all times. If he manages to steal a kiss, he is not thought of any the less, whereas she is deemed to have loose morals.’
‘Sadly, it has always been thus,’ Barrington remarked. ‘Society makes the rules and we must obey.’
‘No. Men make the rules and then demand that women follow them. It is no wonder we sometimes falter.’
She saw the surprise in his face. ‘Am I to assume from your comment, Lady Annabelle, that you yourself have faltered in the past?’
‘That is none of your business!’ she exclaimed.
‘No, I don’t suppose it is.’ He laughed softly, the sound sending shivers up her spine. ‘But your reputation doesn’t suggest a woman who would be easily led astray. I find my curiosity piqued at the thought of you having ever done anything wrong.’
‘Then you will just have to live with piqued curiosity,’ Anna said, abruptly standing up.
‘Anna, wait, I meant no offence,’ he said, likewise getting to his feet. ‘If I’ve inadvertently touched a nerve, I apologise. It was never my intention to hurt you.’
Anna shook her head, too distracted by unpleasant memories of the past to notice his lapse into familiarity. ‘And I did not mean to be abrupt, Sir Barrington, but I have no wish to talk about what happened in my past.’
‘I understand. We’ve all made mistakes, some worse than others. But given your untarnished reputation and excellent standing in society, it’s obvious your mistake, if that’s what it was, did not serve as your undoing.’
‘It could have,’ Anna whispered, ‘had a friend not come along when she had.’
And that was the tragic truth of her brief flirtation with the Honourable Anthony Colder. As a naïve seventeen-year-old, Anna had all but thrown herself at the god-like creature, believing the smiles he had bestowed upon her were the result of a genuine and mutual affection. Little had she known that his interest had more to do with her father being the Earl of Cambermere than it did with any charms she might possess herself. Anthony had been an avid social climber, as well as the most handsome man she had ever met. With those laughing blue eyes and a smile that set butterflies dancing in her stomach, she would have given him anything he’d asked for. And if he’d had his chance, he would have taken it.
Mrs Mary Fielding had known that, too. A twice-married woman wise to the ways of men like Anthony Colder, Mrs Fielding had seen the growing infatuation between the two young people and had guessed at its source, being more familiar with Anthony’s background than most. She had known of his gambling debts, his easy way with women, and his devil-may-care attitude. And on that evening when Anthony, having drunk too much brandy and feeling far too sure of himself, had caught Anna alone in the gazebo by the lake and torn her gown in a boorish attempt at seduction, Mrs Fielding had appeared and promptly sent him packing. She had stayed with Anna until the worst of her grief had passed, and then, after drying Anna’s tears, she had lent her a shawl to cover the tear and had sent her regrets back to their hostess, explaining that Lady Annabelle was unwell and that she was seeing her home in her own carriage.
It had been a painful lesson, but one Anna had learned well. She had gone home that evening and made no mention of the event to anyone. She regretted having told her parents and her brother of her affection for Anthony, but after that night she never mentioned his name again. Nor, thankfully, did she see him. Mrs Fielding informed her not long after that he had left the country.
Anna had never been so glad to see the back of anyone in her life. And though she thought it was impossible for her to blush any deeper, she was wrong. Even after all this time, her face burned at the memory of her stupid, stupid mistake.
‘Tell me what happened, Lady Annabelle,’ Barrington said in a low voice. ‘Your secrets are safe with me. I know, better than most, the value of discretion.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you do,’ Anna said quietly. ‘But the only way to completely ensure one’s secrets is by keeping them entirely to oneself.’
‘I’m sorry you cannot bring yourself to trust me.’
She looked up at him, surprised that he would mention trust in such a situation. ‘I do not know you, Sir Barrington.
And the trust of which you speak is generally reserved for relationships between husbands and wives.’
‘I’ve always thought that bonds of trust can exist between friends as well as lovers.’
‘Perhaps, but it takes time to establish that kind of bond,’ she said, sounding flustered even to her own ears. ‘You are a single gentleman and I a single lady. It isn’t the thing for us to … share secrets of an intimate nature. But if you were looking for a wife, you would do well to consider Miss Erickson. Apart from her many other attributes, she is a genuinely nice young woman.’
‘What makes you think I’m looking for a wife?’ he asked.
‘Why would you not be? You just told me that we must abide by society’s rules, and society dictates that men and women should marry. Is that not the purpose of these gatherings? To place one in the path of the other?’
‘I suppose it is.’ He hesitated a moment before adding, ‘But I think it only right to tell you that Miss Erickson would not be of interest to me, even if I were of a mind to marry.’
If he were of a mind to marry? ‘Are you telling me you intend to remain single?’ Anna asked, eyebrows lifting in shock.
‘That was my plan, yes.’
‘But what of your obligation to your family?’
‘I fear the task of continuing the Parker name will fall to a distant cousin with whom I am not acquainted,’ Barrington said blandly. ‘As to the obligation owed, I am more concerned with the welfare of the lady with whom I might wish to spend my life than I am to the furthering of my ancestral line.’
‘Then I would have to say you are unique in your thinking,’ Anna said. ‘Most society gentlemen are concerned with their family name and marry to beget an heir.’
‘Yes, but you should know by now that my life is not that of a typical society gentleman. My reputation is such that people come to me when they wish to learn things about others. And because I ask questions people have no wish to be asked, I continuously put myself at risk.’
‘Surely you exaggerate the danger.’
‘I do not.’ His smile held secrets she could not begin to imagine. ‘The people I usually investigate are not the honourable men you meet in society, Lady Annabelle. They are scoundrels and blackmailers, men who operate beyond the boundaries of the law and who are completely without conscience. When I get too close, they get nervous. And when I convict them, they look for retribution.’
‘But surely not of a life-threatening kind!’
He shrugged, as though trying to make light of it. ‘There have been attempts on my life in the past and I have no reason to believe there will not be attempts in the future. The easiest way to ensure my silence is to eliminate the possibility of my saying anything at all. That said, I will not knowingly put anyone else in danger.’
‘But if these men have issues with you, why should you fear for the safety of those close to you?’
‘Because there is no better way to strike back at me than to hurt someone I care about.’ They had walked, by tacit agreement, onto the balcony. Barrington rested his arms against the stone balustrade and stared down into the garden. ‘And who could be dearer to me than the woman to whom I would give my name … and my heart.’
Anna felt her mouth go dry. Strange that the breeze should suddenly feel so cool. Was her body overly warm? They were standing quite close; close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. ‘So you would choose to live … without a woman to share your life,’ she whispered, ‘rather than expose your wife to possible harm?’
‘In a heartbeat.’ He turned his head so that his eyes bored into hers. ‘How could I say I loved someone if I didn’t care about their safety? If the thought of something happening to them didn’t tear me apart?’
Anna shivered. ‘You could give up what you’re doing. You are a gentleman. You have no need to work.’
‘And what would I do with myself then?’ He reached out and took her hand in his. ‘I have servants to run my estate and stewards and secretaries to see to my affairs. But a man must have something of his own or what reason has he for getting up each day?’
As he spoke, his fingers caressed the palm of her hand, smoothing the tender skin at the base of her wrist. His touch was light, non-threatening—and it turned Anna’s world upside down.
She closed her eyes, the sounds of the room beyond fading into the distance. She knew she should pull her hand free, but she was neither willing nor anxious to do so. His thumb was painting circles on her skin, lulling her with a touch.
‘We get up because … that is what the world expects of us,’ she said huskily. Dear Lord, what was he doing? Not content with massaging her palm and wrist, his thumb was continuing its treacherous voyage along the inside of her arm, causing disturbing quakes in her sanity. ‘Surely there is … a kind of security, perhaps even of comfort, in the carrying out of our daily task?’
‘Ah, but there are far sweeter pleasures to be enjoyed than that, my lady,’ Barrington murmured as he brushed the back of his free hand against her cheek. ‘The smoothness of a woman’s skin, the softness of her hair.’ He gently twined a lock around his finger and held it to his face, inhaling the delicate fragrance. ‘Finer than silk and more precious than gold.’ Then, releasing it, he gently grasped her chin between thumb and forefinger and tilted her face up. ‘Last but not least, the sweetness of her lips …’
Anna had been kissed before … but never like this. Never by a man whose touch was enough to make her long to release her tenuous hold on respectability. His mouth moved over hers slowly, thoughtfully, shattering her resolve and filling her with a desperate need to be loved. Surely she deserved this. Surely, after everything she’d been through, she was entitled to some small measure of love and affection for herself?
As he deepened the kiss, Anna raised her arms, twining them around his neck, wanting to be close and then closer still. His tongue teased her lips apart and heat poured through her body, flowing like molten fire through her veins. She moaned, feeling desire rise and want settle low in her belly. Ah, the sweet, sweet pleasure …
But the pleasure was bittersweet. Even as his arms tightened around her, Anna knew it could come to nothing. Barrington had no intention of marrying. He’d just told her as much. And if he wasn’t willing to offer marriage, what they were doing now was not only wrong, it was self-destructive. She wanted more from him. Much more than he was willing to give. And in the end, she would be the one who walked away with her heart in ruins. And therein lay the true sadness of the situation. The one man with whom she could have foreseen a future was the one man with whom it would never be.
‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ she whispered, breaking free of his arms.
‘Anna, what’s wrong?’ he asked huskily.
‘What’s wrong? I’m wrong,’ she whispered. ‘This is wrong. Because right now, I’m no better than the foolish young women whose reputations I fight to protect.’
‘That’s ridiculous!’
‘Is it? You just told me you have no intention of marrying, yet I allowed myself to be held in your arms and kissed like any cheap whore. What is that if not the height of stupidity?’
Anna flung at him. ‘At least Mercy Banks was hopeful of a marriage resulting from her liaison with Lieutenant Blokker! You’ve made it clear there is no such happy ending in sight.’
His face darkened, his breathing heavy and uneven. ‘I said that because I don’t want you harbouring false hope. But it doesn’t change the way I feel about you.’
‘And is that supposed to make me feel better? Am I supposed to be comforted by the knowledge that you desire me, yet have no intention of offering marriage?’ Anna shook her head. ‘There is a word for that kind of relationship, Sir Barrington, and it is not flattering.’
‘It was never my intention to compromise you, Anna,’ he said quietly. ‘I care too much for you.’
‘My name is Lady Annabelle. And if you care so much for me, leave me alone!’
Without waiting for his answer, Anna picked up her skirts and fled. Angry tears blurred her vision as she ran down the length of the balcony. Idiot! She’d made a fool of herself again, allowing herself to be held and kissed as though she were a naïve young schoolgirl. She, who prided herself on knowing all the games and all the excuses, had let herself be taken in. And by doing so, Barrington had undermined everything she believed in. When she had allowed him to kiss her, she had wanted to believe that it meant something. But it was obvious to anyone with an iota of sense that it meant absolutely nothing. Sophisticated Barrington might be, but he was still a man, and when it came right down to it, he wanted the same thing as every other man. Pleasure without commitment. Love without obligation. The very things she kept warning her young ladies to avoid.
The breeze came up and, once again, Anna felt chilled. She hadn’t stopped to fetch her wrap before venturing outside, but neither was she about to run back into the drawing room now.
Observant eyes would see the evidence of her tears, recognise the flush in her cheeks and put their own interpretation on the events—and nothing on earth was going to persuade her to tell anyone what had really happened.
She glanced back over her shoulder, wondering if Barrington had followed her. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed when she saw that he hadn’t. All right, so she’d made a mistake. It wasn’t the first time she’d done so, but at least this time she was old enough to recognise it for herself. Barrington had made his feelings for her clear. The episode would not be repeated. From now on, she would treat him exactly the same way he treated everyone else. Coolly. Professionally. Without emotion. He would never make her cry again.
It was a good ten minutes before Anna felt calm enough to venture back into the house. Not by the drawing room through which she’d left. That would be far too embarrassing, especially knowing that Barrington had gone back in only a short time ago. Instead, she walked to the end of the balcony and, finding another set of glass doors, tried the handle. Thankfully, it was unlocked and pushing it open, she walked into a small study—only to stop and gasp in shock.
Her brother and Julia’s maid were standing by the door, locked together in a passionate embrace. ‘Edward!’
At once, the pair sprang apart, but it was too late to disguise what they had been doing. The maid’s dark hair had come down around her shoulders, her gown was in disarray and her lips were red and swollen.
Embarrassed, Anna looked away. Obviously, her brother wasn’t above seducing pretty housemaids, whether they be his own or someone else’s. Refusing to meet his eyes, she murmured, ‘Excuse me’, and then immediately made her way to the door. Edward said nothing, but she heard his mocking laughter following her through the door. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. Her brother had once again proven himself the immoral creature she believed him to be.
And what about you? the little voice nagged. Are you so much better? So much more virtuous?
Anna felt her face burn with humiliation. No, perhaps she wasn’t. She kept remembering the passionate encounter she’d just shared with Barrington, the shameless manner in which she had allowed him to kiss her. Oh, yes, she’d let him kiss her. She wasn’t about to lay the blame for what had happened entirely at his door. He was gentleman enough that if she had asked him to stop, he would have—but she hadn’t done that. She’d wanted to know how it would feel to kiss him. To watch his head bend slowly towards her, and to feel his mouth close intimately over hers.
It had been everything she’d expected—and more.
But Barrington was no more likely to become her husband than Julia’s maid was to become Edward’s wife. They had both been indulging in impossible fantasies.
‘Let he who is without sin cast the first stone …’
A sobering thought. As Anna made her way back to the drawing room, she realised that the proverbial stone would never find its way to her hand.
Chapter Seven (#ulink_18a98e38-8b11-519e-89ad-efdf8b08d673)
For the next few days, Barrington went around like a bear with a sore head. Unable to forget what had happened between Anna and himself at the baroness’s dinner party, he was quick to anger and slow to unwind, because he knew he’d hurt her. And hurting her was the last thing he’d ever wanted to do.
He’d still been in the drawing room when Anna had finally returned, but she hadn’t approached him again. She had remained coldly aloof, treating him as though he wasn’t there. He wasn’t surprised that she had left shortly after.
He’d left early as well, all pleasure in the evening gone. Upon returning home, he’d made for his study and downed a stiff glass of brandy, followed in quick succession by two more. But the potent liquor had done nothing to assuage his guilt, or to help him find escape in sleep. When the morning had come, he’d been as tired and as irritable as when he’d gone to bed.
Much as he was this morning, three days later, as he made his way to Angelo’s Haymarket rooms for his ten o’clock appointment with the Marquess of Yew’s son.
Barrington deeply regretted having made the appointment.
The last thing he felt like doing was teaching the finer points of fencing to the gangly nineteen-year-old son of a man he neither liked nor respected. However, he had given Yew his promise that he would show the boy a few things and he was a man who kept his word. All he could do now was hope the hour passed quickly and that he didn’t do the boy an unintentional injury.
Unfortunately, Lord Bessmel was right when he’d said that word of the lesson—or demonstration—had spread. By the time Barrington arrived, the room was filled to overflowing with gentlemen of all ages, some carrying swords, some just there to observe. It was worse than he’d expected.
‘Ah, Parker,’ Lord Yew greeted him with a smile. ‘Good to see you. Quite the turnout, eh? I vow you draw a larger crowd than Prinnie.’
‘Perhaps because you put it about that this was to be a demonstration, rather than the private lesson we agreed to,’ Barrington said.
‘Really?’ the marquess said lazily. ‘I don’t recall saying this was to be a lesson. But never mind, now you and Gerald have a suitable audience.’
‘An audience that comes armed and ready to spar?’ The marquess smiled. ‘You should be thanking me, Parker. You have your pick of opponents and since we both know there’s not a man in the room who can best you, you’re guaranteed to come out on top. Why not just have fun with it?’ ‘Because that’s not what I do.’ Barrington’s jaw tightened. Unfortunately, they both knew this was something of a command performance. A ‘small additional favour’ in exchange for the marquess’s silence over Peregrine Rand’s affair with his wife. And while Barrington would normally have refused to play a part, all it took was the memory of the look on Anna’s face when she had spoken of Rand’s guilt to make him change his mind. He didn’t particularly care about the other man’s feelings, but he would have done almost anything to prevent hers being further injured.
‘I’ve lived up to my side of the bargain, Yew. I trust you intend to do the same.’
‘Are you questioning my integrity?’ the marquess asked, peering down his long, patrician nose.
‘No. But I know how angry you were with Rand and I don’t want to think that all of this has been for naught.’
The marquess chuckled. ‘I can assure you it has not. In point of fact, I wasn’t really angry at all.’
Barrington’s mouth tightened. ‘I beg your pardon?’
The marquess’s expression was remote as he gazed at the milling crowd. ‘Rand is not the first man to make love to my wife, and, God knows, he won’t be the last. Susan is voracious in that regard and while I enjoy sex as much as the next man, I am not inclined to engage in it as often as she might wish. So I turn a blind eye to her affairs. It flatters me to know that she is still beautiful enough to attract other men; it flatters her to know that she is desired by men younger than herself.’
No stranger to the unusual, Barrington was none the less bewildered by Yew’s unexpected admission. ‘Then why did you go to the trouble of persecuting him?’
The marquess’s gaze narrowed. ‘You really don’t know?’ When Barrington shook his head, Yew said in amusement, ‘Because I was asked to.’
Having casually dropped his bomb, the marquess strolled away. Barrington, aware that the eyes of the room were on him, allowed nothing of his anger to show, knowing it would incite too many questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. But he was angry. Furiously so. Someone had been playing with Peregrine Rand—and, by association, with him.
‘Good m-morning, Sir B-Barrington,’ Lord Gerald Fitzhenry said, coming up to him. ‘It’s v-very good of you to d-do this for me.’
Lord Yew’s youngest son was a quiet, unassuming young man, who, though raised in an atmosphere of wealth and privilege, had managed to lose none of his good nature as a result. Perhaps the stutter kept him from becoming too arrogant, Barrington reflected. It wasn’t a fashionable affectation, but a lifelong affliction, one the boy had desperately tried to overcome. But it was exacerbated by nerves and, given the unexpected turnout in the room, Barrington knew this morning’s performance would be more difficult for Lord Gerald than usual. As such, he turned to face the lad with a reassuring smile. ‘You show a great deal of promise, Lord Gerald. Perhaps I can point out a few things that will help you become an even better fencer.’
The boy’s face shone. ‘I would l-like that, very much.’
‘Good. Then shall we take our positions?’
As Barrington led the way onto the floor, he was conscious of every eye in the room following him. He was acquainted with many of the gentlemen present and knew that some of them were decent fencers and were here for that reason alone. Having been taught by one of the finest swordsmen in France, Barrington possessed skills few others did and the chance to watch him spar today was an opportunity too good to miss.
But not all the gentlemen in the room had come simply to observe his technique. A movement at the far end of the room drew Barrington’s attention. Looking up, he saw Hayle leaning against the wall, sword in hand. He had come to fight. He’d made that very clear.
Barrington had no intention of indulging him. Men like Hayle only wanted to prove their superiority over others. It was likely one of the reasons Hayle resented Rand’s presence in the house. Though Rand offered no tangible threat, he was a competitor for the earl’s attention, perhaps even for his affection. And if Hayle believed that Rand was his half-brother, he would naturally assume there was an affinity between his father and the other man he couldn’t affect or control.
He wouldn’t like that. Hayle needed to be seen as the only cock of the roost, and, so far, he had. Lord only knew what would happen if and when he found out otherwise.
An hour later, it was all over.
‘You did well,’ Barrington said, removing his mask and walking towards Lord Gerald. ‘But you would do better if you kept your arm straight and the weight of your body on the front of your feet. You need to be able to move quickly around your opponent. Try to catch him off balance.’
‘Yes, Sir B-Barrington,’ said the grateful but sweating youth.
‘And don’t forget what I said about practising your double and triple feints. They’ll stand you in good stead when you find yourself pushed to defend yourself. If you like, come round to the house and I’ll lend you a couple of books that helped me when I was where you are.’
The boy’s face shone as though he’d been given the keys to the kingdom. ‘Thank you so much, Sir B-Barrington. I will t-try to d-do that.’
Barrington smiled and clapped the lad on the shoulder. He was glad now that he’d agreed to the lesson. Lord Gerald had turned out to be a surprisingly good swordsman and he was appreciative of the time he’d been given. He would benefit by what he’d learned today.
‘Who’s next then, Sir Barrington?’ someone called out from the crowd.
Despite the cheers that greeted the man’s words, Barrington shook his head. ‘Sorry, gentlemen, the show’s over. You can all go home now.’
Amidst the rumble of disappointment, another voice said, ‘But this was to be a demonstration. Surely you wouldn’t send everyone away without giving them what they really came here to see.’
Barrington’s mouth compressed into a thin line. So, Hayle would challenge him publicly. A foolish thing to do. ‘I’m sure there are others who would favour you with a match, Lord Hayle.’
‘But it is with you I wish to engage, Sir Barrington,’ Hayle said softly. ‘Will you not stand and face me? I have been acknowledged a better than average fencer and would welcome an opportunity to go up against the best.’
Hearing the room suddenly fall silent, Barrington sighed. ‘My purpose this morning was to instruct Lord Yew’s son. It was not a general invitation to spar.’
‘But surely there can be no harm in engaging in a friendly match,’ Hayle said, advancing on to the floor. ‘You are acknowledged the finest swordsman in England. Every one of us here could benefit by watching and learning, and I am willing to put myself forward as your student. If nothing else, I promise you a better match than the one you just concluded.’
‘I was not engaged in a match,’ Barrington reminded him. ‘I was giving a lesson.’
‘Then consider me your student and this an opportunity to improve my skills,’ Hayle said with a grin.
Hearing murmurs in the crowd that were pushing for the match, Barrington sighed. Hayle obviously wasn’t going to back down, especially if he felt he had the backing of his friends. And while he needed a lesson, Barrington knew it was in humility rather than sword play. ‘Very well.’ He walked back into the room and donned his mask. ‘Prepare to engage.’
An excited murmur rolled through the crowd. Men who were halfway to the door quickly turned around and ran back into the room, aware that a far more entertaining show was about to get underway. Triumph and anticipation suffused Hayle’s face as he stripped off his jacket and donned a mask.
In silence the two men made their way to the centre of the floor. After offering the traditional salute, they both took their opening stance.
It didn’t take long for Barrington to assess his opponent’s level of skill. Hayle was a showy fencer and quick on his feet, but there was no strategy to his play; at times, his technique was downright sloppy. Barrington easily scored five hits in a matter of minutes—and watched his opponent’s face grow redder with each one.
‘I think that’s enough for one morning,’ he said, starting to remove his mask.
‘Stand your ground, sir!’ Hayle shouted. ‘I will say when this is finished.’ He took up his stance again. ‘En guarde!’
Barrington saw the anger in the other man’s eyes and knew this could only end badly. He had no wish to humiliate Hayle in front of a room full of his friends and acquaintances, but neither was he about to throw the game in order to appease his vanity. ‘Very well. We shall play one more bout and then call a halt. Does that meet with your approval?’
Hayle gave a terse nod and resumed his position.
The match recommenced. Barrington tried not to make the other man look bad, but the more desperate Hayle became, the more careless his play. He was caught flat footed several times and as the bout went on his moves became more and more erratic. After receiving his fourth hit, he shouted, ‘Damn you, Parker!’, then, abandoning sportsmanlike conduct altogether, he lunged, aiming the point of his sword directly at Barrington’s throat.
Barrington heard the gasp from the crowd, but was already out of range. He stepped lithely to one side and quickly raised his own foil, deflecting the blow. Hayle spun around and was about to charge again when a voice rang out, ‘Enough, Edward! Put down your sword! This engagement is at an end!’
The command vibrated with anger, but Hayle was oblivious, his attention riveted on his adversary. Barrington held his position, too, unwilling to trust his opponent. He risked a quick glance across the room and saw the Earl of Cambermere standing by the edge of the crowd. His face was red and he was shaking with barely suppressed fury. ‘Did you not hear me, sir?’ he called again. ‘I said put down your sword!’
‘I will not, sir!’ His son’s face was equally flushed. ‘How dare you ask me to!’
‘How dare I?’ his father exploded, marching on to the floor. ‘You impugn our family’s honour by behaving in such a way and then have the audacity to question me? No, sir, I will not have it! If you cannot control your temper, find another sport in which to indulge.’ He ripped the foil from his son’s hand and threw it on the floor. ‘This is a gentleman’s game. You will apologise to Sir Barrington at once or I’ll know the reason why!’
Barrington slowly lowered his sword, but remained in a ready position, prepared to fight if Hayle picked up his sword and re-engaged him. He had no idea what the man was going to do, but it was evident to everyone in the place that Hayle was beyond furious. In that moment, Barrington wasn’t sure the man wouldn’t turn on his own father and run him through.
Thankfully, the moment passed. As if realising he couldn’t win and that his reputation would only suffer further by prolonging the encounter, Hayle took a step back, then bent to pick up his sword. ‘I will not apologise to you this day or any other, Sir Barrington,’ he said coldly. ‘But I do regret that we were unable to finish our match. I look forward to the opportunity of doing so in the future.’ Then, without so much as a second glance at his father, he snatched up his jacket and left.
Barely had the door closed before the level of conversation swelled to fill the silence. Barrington heard snippets of conversations, some questioning, many derogatory. Overall, none were particularly complimentary of Hayle’s behaviour on the floor. Fencing was, after all, a gentleman’s sport and what the audience had just witnessed was a display of anything but.
It was a few minutes before the earl was calm enough to speak. When he did, Barrington could see it was with considerable effort. ‘Sir Barrington, pray accept my apologies on behalf of my son. His behaviour was unforgivable and I am truly sorry.’
‘Apology accepted, but I suggest you do not take this too much to heart, Cambermere,’ Barrington said. ‘It is not uncommon for a young man to wish to win, especially in front of his peers.’
‘If a man cannot win fairly or lose graciously, he should not play the game,’ Cambermere snapped. ‘I’m sorry you had to see that side of Edward’s nature. He’s always been a competitive lad, but of late, he has become even more so. I suspect it has much to do with Peregrine’s arrival.’ The earl sighed. ‘They have not become the friends I’d hoped.’
‘Was it realistic to believe they would?’
The earl glanced up, his sharp eyes meeting Barrington’s. But Barrington’s didn’t waver, and, not surprisingly, the earl was the first to look away. ‘Perhaps not. But they had to meet at some time.’
‘Did they? I would have thought it possible for their paths never to have crossed. But it’s a moot point now. You made the decision to invite Rand to London and must now deal with the consequences,’ Barrington said.
‘I know. But I was asked if I would have him,’ the earl said quietly. ‘And I wanted him to come.’
Used to gleaning meanings from things that were left unsaid, Barrington inclined his head. ‘Then it really is none of anyone else’s business.’
‘Yet people choose to make it so,’ Cambermere said fiercely.
Barrington’s smile was tight. ‘People like to pass judgement on matters that do not concern them. Some do it with the best of intentions, others do it without any care for the consequences at all. But as we said, the matter is private and one that concerns you and your family alone.’
Even has he said it, however, Barrington realised he had been given another glimpse into the complicated workings of Lord Cambermere’s family, and it was evident from the morning’s events that all was far from harmonious. There were simmering resentments, unsettled grievances, and barely restrained tempers. Instead of warming to the fact that his father had brought his godson to London, Hayle intended to do whatever he could to make Rand feel unwelcome—even to the point of humiliating him in front of his peers.
That much had become patently clear. As Barrington left the club and climbed into his carriage for the drive home, he knew who had asked the Marquess of Yew to make an example of Peregrine Rand. And, sadly, he also knew the reason why.
A full week passed during which Anna neither saw nor heard from Barrington. She told herself she didn’t care, but as she lay awake in the dark hours of the night, she knew she was lying to herself. She did care. And it troubled her deeply that they had parted on such bad terms.
Try as she might, she couldn’t forget the feeling of Barrington’s arms closing warm and strong around her. She kept remembering the tenderness of his mouth as it moved with deliberate slowness over hers, sending shivers of delight up and down her spine.
It still made her quiver when she thought about it.
Still, longing for something you couldn’t have was a complete waste of one’s time, and there wasn’t a doubt in Anna’s mind that she would never have a life with Barrington. He’d made it perfectly clear that he had no intention of getting married, and it certainly wasn’t her place to get him to change his mind. She was the foolish one if she thought there was any merit in that.
‘Ah, Anna, there you are,’ her father said, walking into the drawing room. ‘Not going out this evening?’
‘I’m not, but it would seem you are,’ she said, rousing herself. ‘Is that a new coat?’
To her amusement, her father’s cheeks took on a ruddy hue. ‘I decided it was time to spruce up my wardrobe. Doesn’t do for a gentleman to let himself go and I haven’t paid much attention to things like that since your mother died.’ His voice softened. ‘I had no reason to.’
‘And have you a reason now?’
He glanced at her, suddenly looking boyish. ‘Would it disturb you if I said I had?’
‘Not at all. I like Julia very much.’ Anna hesitated. ‘I take it we are referring to Julia?’
‘Of course!’
‘Good. Then if she makes you happy, why should I object?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ the earl grumbled. ‘Some people say I’m past such things. That I’m too old for her. I am nearly twenty years her senior, after all.’
‘If the lady does not mind, why should you? You don’t look your age, and she is past thirty, Papa. Old enough to make her own decisions.’
Her father glanced down at the floor. ‘Your brother is not pleased by the association.’
Anna sighed. ‘My brother is not pleased with anything at the moment so I shouldn’t worry about it. Do what I do. Ignore him.’
‘Can you not try to get along, Anna? He is your brother, after all.’
‘Yes, he is, but I cannot bring myself to like the way he treats people; his attitude towards Peregrine is abysmal. He demonstrates a resentment that is neither warranted nor deserved. I’ve tried to tell him as much, but he refuses to listen.’
Her father looked as though he wanted to say something, but then he sighed, and shook his head. ‘I blame myself for the distance between the two of you. Perhaps had I paid more attention to Edward when he was younger—’
‘The fault is not yours, Papa,’ Anna interrupted firmly. ‘Edward has been given every opportunity to show himself the better man. He has wealth and position—there is absolutely no reason for him to be so harsh and judgemental towards others.’
‘Perhaps he will change when he meets the right woman. It is my sincere wish that you both find suitable marriage partners and leave this house to start your own lives.’ Her father regarded her hopefully. ‘Is there no one for whom you feel even the slightest affection, my dear?’
Sadly, there was. But while Anna would have liked to give her father the reassurance he so desperately craved, there was no point in raising his hopes. Or hers. ‘I fear not. But am I such a trouble to you that you would try to make me leave?’
‘Far from it. You’re a good girl, Anna. And though I don’t say it often, I am very proud of you. A week doesn’t go by that some grateful mother doesn’t tell me how helpful you’ve been in smoothing the troubled waters between her and her daughter. Most of them credit you with having saved their sanity!’
Surprised by the admission, Anna said, ‘I can assure you they were exaggerating. None of the situations was that dire. It is simply easier for a stranger to see what needs to be done than someone who is intimately involved.’
‘Nevertheless, they all told me how helpful you were and that I should be very proud to have such an admirable young woman for a daughter. And I told them all they were right.’
Her father was not normally an affectionate man, so when he suddenly bent down and pressed his lips to her forehead, Anna was deeply moved. ‘Oh, Papa.’ She got up and hugged him, aware that it had been a long time since she’d done so. If this was Julia’s doing, she could only hope that the romance continued.
‘Yes, well, I’d best be off,’ the earl said gruffly. He stepped back and smoothed his jacket. ‘Jul—that is, the baroness and I are having dinner together and then going on to the theatre.’
‘Sounds lovely. Have a good time.’
‘Yes, I expect we will.’
Anna smiled as she watched him go. It was strange to suddenly find herself in the role of the parent. She was well aware that she was the one who should have been going out for the evening and her father the one wishing her well. But there was only one man with whom Anna wished to spend time and the chances of that happening were getting slimmer all the time.
Troubled as he was by his feelings for Anna, Barrington knew he couldn’t afford to ignore his other commissions. In particular, the locating of Miss Elizabeth Paisley. His belief that he’d found her at Baroness von Brohm’s house had turned out to be false. He had gone back a few days later to question her, but the moment she’d walked into the drawing room, he’d known he was mistaken. The maid’s name was Justine Smith, and though she was the right age, the right height, and had the right colour hair, her eyes were all wrong. Hers had actually been a pale misty blue where the Colonel had specifically told him that Elizabeth Paisley’s were a deep, clear green. Barrington thought that in the candlelit room the night of the baroness’s dinner party, he must have been mistaken when he’d thought the maid’s eyes were green.
And so, at eleven o’clock that morning, Barrington resumed his investigation by visiting the premises of one Madame Delors, fashionable modiste. Dressmakers were privy to a great deal of gossip about wives and mistresses, and if someone had taken over the protection of Miss Elizabeth Paisley, there was a good chance Madame Delors would know about it.
Barrington stopped inside the door and glanced around the compact little shop. It was years since he’d had reason to frequent such an establishment, but it was evident they hadn’t changed. Bolts of richly coloured fabric of every type and shade filled the shelves; dress patterns were tacked to the walls; and in the centre of the room stood a raised podium surrounded on three sides by mirrors.
‘Bonjour, monsieur,’ called a charmingly accented French voice. ‘Puis-je vous aidez?’
The owner of the establishment was small and compact, with dark inquisitive eyes and a head of flaming red hair that surely owed more to artifice than it did to nature. Still, it suited her well and Barrington doffed his hat. ‘Bonjour, madame. My name is Sir Barrington Parker. I would like to ask you a few questions, if you have a moment to spare.’
The woman’s eyes narrowed, his comment obviously having put her on guard. ‘What kind of questions, monsieur?’
‘About a woman.’ He purposely didn’t use the term lady. ‘One I believe you dressed in the not-too-distant past.’
‘I dress many women, monsieur. You will ‘ave to give me ‘er name.’
‘Miss Elizabeth Paisley. Petite, lovely, with dark brown hair and uncommonly pretty green eyes.’
The modiste evidenced neither surprise nor recognition. ‘I do not think I know the lady.’
‘Really? I was told you’d made clothes for her. Perhaps you dealt with the gentleman who bought them. A Colonel Tanner?’
Madame Delors obviously knew a thing or two about what one did and didn’t say to gentlemen asking questions about other gentlemen’s ladies. ‘I ‘ave many gentlemen coming to buy clothes for their ladies, monsieur. But they do not always give me the names of the ladies they are buying for.’
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Gail Whitiker
Brushed by Scandal After one unfortunate incident in the past, Lady Annabelle Durst knows how easily reputations can be lost. So when accusations of wrongdoings are levelled against members of her family, she automatically resent the man who brought them; believing him to be completely in the wrong. But Sir Barrington Parker doesn’t make mistakes… Courting Miss ValloisMiss Sophie Vallois’s looks and grace make her an instant hit with London Society. No one would know that the French beauty is a mere farmer’s daughter, with no interest in marriage whatsoever. Except Robert Silverton, who has other reasons for staying away from Sophie. Until he finds that than keeping her at arm’s length, Robert soon wants the delectable Miss Vallois well and truly in his arms!
SEDUCTION in Regency Society August 2014
DECEPTION in Regency Society September 2014
PROPOSALS in Regency Society October 2014
PRIDE in Regency Society November 2014
MISCHIEF in Regency Society December 2014
INNOCENCE in Regency Society January 2015
ENCHANTED in Regency Society February 2015
HEIRESS in Regency Society March 2015
PREJUDICE in Regency Society April 2015
FORBIDDEN in Regency Society May 2015
TEMPTATION in Regency Society June 2015
REVENGE in Regency Society July 2015
GAIL WHITIKER was born on the west coast of Wales and moved to Canada at an early age. Though she grew up reading everything from John Wyndham to Victoria Holt, frequent trips back to Wales inspired a fascination with castles and history, so it wasn’t surprising that her first published book would be set in Regency England. Now an award-winning author of both historical and contemporary novels, Gail lives on Vancouver Island, where she continues to indulge her fascination with the past, as well as enjoying travel, music and spectacular scenery. Visit Gail at www.gailwhitiker.com (http://www.gailwhitiker.com).
Revenge inRegency Society
Brushed by Scandal
Courting Miss Vallois
Gail Whitiker
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#ua95e6e58-5245-5adf-9eb4-401e8da2a1c2)
About the Author (#u8f2b2e6a-fdfc-5162-a993-0da21492b9e1)
Title Page (#uccd3e824-a041-57e3-b66a-100e031909cb)
Brushed by Scandal
Dedication (#u46bd2c55-a57f-59fb-b1f1-ea477d3d98c9)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Courting Miss Vallois
Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Brushed by Scandal (#ucab641c8-7305-5f15-8249-575d1e1e8658)
To Mum and Dad, who continue to be an ongoing source of love and support in so many areas of my life. Thank you for always being there.
And to my good friend Lynne Rattray, who inspires me with her joie de vivre and her unflagging sense of humour.
Chapter One (#ucab641c8-7305-5f15-8249-575d1e1e8658)
It was a perfect night for sin. The mid-May evening was deliciously warm, the air sweet with the fragrance of rosewater and violets, and the attention of one hundred and forty-nine of the guests moving slowly through the overheated rooms of Lord and Lady Montby’s palatial London house was focused on anything but the young lady slipping furtively through the French doors and onto the dimly lit balcony beyond.
Fortunately, as the attention of the one hundred and fiftieth guest had been fixed on that silly young woman for some time, the chances of her making a clean escape were never very good. Over the course of the evening, Lady Annabelle Durst had watched the exchange of smiles and glances passing between Miss Mercy Banks and a certain red-coated officer, and, given that the gentleman had recently left the room by the same doors through which Miss Banks now passed, Anna had no doubt that a clandestine rendezvous was planned. A rendezvous that could only end in disaster for one or both of them.
‘Mrs Wicks, would you please excuse me,’ Anna said quietly. ‘I’ve just seen someone I really must speak with.’
‘Why, of course, Lady Annabelle, and I do apologise for having taken up so much of your time, but I really didn’t know who else to turn to. Cynthia simply refuses to listen and I was at my wits’ end, wondering what to do next.’
‘I understand perfectly,’ Anna said, endeavouring to keep one eye on the French doors. ‘Cynthia has always been the most stubborn of your daughters and if you force her to spend a month in Scotland with her grandmother while her sisters are allowed to go to Bath, she will rebel. However, I believe the compromise I’ve suggested should help to alleviate the tension and make everyone feel better.’
‘I don’t mind saying it’s made me feel a great deal better,’ Mrs Wicks murmured. ‘You’re an uncommonly wise young woman for your age, Lady Annabelle. Your father must be very proud.’
Aware that her father would have been a great deal more proud had he been sending word of her upcoming engagement to The Times, Anna simply inclined her head and moved on. There was no point in telling Mrs Wicks that her unwed state was an ongoing source of consternation to her father or that he had offered to settle not only a handsome dowry, but one of his smaller, unentailed estates on her the moment she announced her engagement. Why bother when there was absolutely no one in her life for whom she felt even the slightest attraction?
As for being deemed a very wise young woman, Anna supposed it could have been worse. She might have been called studious or obliging—agreeable, even—none of which truly described her character. Yes, it was true, she had been dispensing an inordinate amount of advice to wilful young ladies and their frustrated mothers of late, but what was she to do when they kept coming to her for answers? Their problems were relatively easy to understand and comparatively simple to fix, even if the parties involved thought otherwise.
As to the hapless Miss Banks, that was clearly a situation Anna was going to have to deal with personally if she hoped to ward off imminent disaster.
The balcony, illuminated by multiple strands of brightly coloured lanterns strung from one end to the other, ran almost the entire length of the house, but one glance in either direction was enough to show Anna that her quarry had already vanished into the gardens. Foolish girl. Did she really believe that the gardens were empty? That no one else had sought privacy in the shadowy follies and Grecian temples sprinkled throughout the trees?
Obviously not or she wouldn’t have allowed herself to be led astray—and Anna had no doubt the girl had been led. Mercy Banks was as green as a leprechaun’s jacket. Barely seventeen, she was in London for her first Season, so it was only to be expected that, upon meeting a young man who looked at her as though she were Aphrodite reincarnated, she would mistake attraction for something deeper.
Anna had been seventeen once, too. She remembered all too well the excitement of looking up to find a handsome gentleman watching her; the exhilaration of his hand casually brushing hers when they drew close enough to converse, followed by the warmth of his breath as he leaned in close to whisper a compliment.
Oh, yes, she knew well the lure of those forbidden bowers. But because she had been prevented from making a mistake by someone who had noticed her infatuation and taken the time to intervene, Anna now recognised the importance in doing the same for others. Unfortunately, as she walked down the stone steps and into the garden proper, she realised she was not the only one intent on locating the wayward Miss Banks. Marching with grim resolve along the gravel path ahead of her was the young lady’s mother, determined to find her errant daughter before some dreadful misfortune could befall her.
Obviously, more desperate measures were now called for.
‘Mrs Banks,’ Anna called in a pleasant but carrying voice. ‘What a pleasure to see you again.’
Mrs Banks, a small, rotund lady wearing a dark green gown and a headband adorned with flowers and fruits of an exotic hue, paused to glance over her shoulder; upon seeing Anna, she stopped, her expression of concern changing to one of pleasure. ‘Why, Lady Annabelle, how nice to see you again. It must be nearly a month since we last had an opportunity to chat. Lady Falconer’s musicale, wasn’t it?’
Anna inclined her head. ‘I do believe it was.’
‘I thought so. Dreadful soprano. I vow my ears rang most painfully for the rest of the night,’ Mrs Banks said with a frown. ‘But what are you doing out here all on your own?’
‘The house was so warm, I thought to enjoy a quiet stroll through the gardens,’ Anna said, keeping her voice light and her words casual. ‘But where is Mr Banks this evening? I take it he did come with you.’
‘Oh, yes, albeit reluctantly. He’s not much into these society affairs, but I told him we must make an effort if we hope to settle Mercy in an advantageous marriage.’ Mrs Banks sighed. ‘For his sake, I hope she finds a husband sooner rather than later. He’s that anxious to get back home.’
‘I’m sure it will be sooner,’ Anna said, heart jumping as she caught sight of a red coat just beyond Mrs Banks’s right shoulder. ‘But I wonder, Mrs Banks, if you’ve seen the new fountain Lady Montby recently had installed over by the reflecting pool? It really is quite spectacular.’
‘I’m sure it is, but at the moment, I am more concerned with finding Mercy.’
‘Really?’ Anna affected a look of confusion. ‘I am quite sure I saw her inside the house.’
‘You did? Where?’
‘Heading in the direction of the music room.’
Mrs Banks rolled her eyes, but Anna noticed a definite softening in the lines of tension around her mouth. ‘I might have known. Someone told Mercy that Lady Montby had recently acquired a new pianoforte and naturally she was anxious to see it. The child is quite musically gifted,’ her mother confided proudly. ‘And while I take care not to compliment her too much, I am hopeful it will help in the quest to find her the right kind of husband.’
‘I’m sure she will do you both proud,’ Anna said, slipping her arm through the older woman’s and turning her around. ‘But as long as we’re heading back inside, why don’t we take a peek at the fountain? It will only take a moment, and then you can carry on and look for your daughter.’
Obviously deciding it was a good idea, Mrs Banks made no demur as Anna led her in the direction of the fountain, which was indeed a spectacular affair, and which, more importantly, was located at the opposite end of the garden from where Anna suspected Mercy and her officer were hiding. Once there, she introduced Mrs Banks to Mrs Wicks, who immediately launched into a diatribe about the difficulties of presenting ungrateful daughters to society, whereupon Mrs Banks said how thankful she was that she only had one daughter to marry off, rather than three.
Anna left the two women happily commiserating with one another and quickly retraced her steps. She was almost at the far end of the path when Miss Banks stepped out, her cheeks flushed, her blue eyes wide with apprehension. ‘Lady Annabelle!’
‘Miss Banks. Enjoying a few minutes alone in the garden?’ she asked pointedly.
‘Yes! That is … no. That is … oh dear.’ The girl looked up and the expression on Anna’s face turned her cheeks an even brighter shade of red. ‘Please tell me Mama didn’t know where I was.’
‘She did not, but only because I suggested you were still inside the house,’ Anna said. ‘If she had caught you and your young man out here together, the consequences would have been dire!’
The girl’s pretty face fell. ‘I know. And I promise I won’t do it again. It’s just that …’
When she broke off blushing, Anna prayed the silly girl hadn’t done anything irredeemably stupid. ‘It’s just that what?’
Mercy sighed. ‘He said it would be all right. He told me … he loved me.’
Of course he had, Anna thought drily. Was a declaration of love not the most common justification for inappropriate behaviour on a young man’s part? ‘Then I take leave to tell you that he had a very poor way of showing it. Has he secured your father’s permission to speak to you?’
Miss Banks looked even more miserable. ‘We have not even been formally introduced. We first saw one another in Hyde Park a week ago, then again at a masquerade two nights past.’
‘At which time he suggested a rendezvous for this evening,’ Anna surmised.
The girl nodded.
‘Then you must not see him again until a formal introduction has been made. Whatever his feelings, asking you to meet him alone in a secluded garden demonstrates the worst kind of judgement,’ Anna said firmly. ‘He must seek a proper introduction and when the time comes to speak of his intentions, he must approach your father and ask permission to call upon you. Please believe me when I say that what he did tonight was not an indication of love, Miss Banks, no matter how much you would like to believe otherwise.’
The young girl bit her lip. ‘No, I don’t suppose it was. But I did so want to see him again … even if only for a few minutes.’
‘A few minutes are more than enough to ruin a lifetime,’ Anna said more gently. ‘You must guard your reputation as fiercely as you would your most precious possession, because right now, it is your most precious possession. Once lost it can never be regained and no one will suffer more for its absence than you. So, no matter what any gentleman says to you, or how sweetly he says it, do not let yourself be tempted into such an indiscretion again.’
‘Yes, Lady Annabelle.’
Anna could see from the expression on Mercy’s face that she had learned her lesson and that the episode would not be repeated. Nor did Anna expect that it would. It wasn’t that Mercy was bad. She was simply young and impetuous, as were so many girls her age.
As Anna herself had once been.
‘And now, we shall return to the house and you will find your mother and endeavour to set her mind at rest,’ she said, leading Mercy back along the gravel path. ‘As for your young man, you are not to look for him again, and, if he seeks you out, you are to tell him you will not speak to him until the two of you have been properly introduced … which I shall endeavour to do later this evening.’
Miss Banks gasped. ‘You would do that for me?’
‘I would, but only if you give me your promise that you will never see …’ Anna paused. ‘What is the officer’s name?’
‘Lieutenant Giles Blokker.’
‘Fine. That you will not see Lieutenant Blokker again without suitable chaperonage. I may not be around to save you the next time.’
‘You have my promise, Lady Annabelle. And thank you! Thank you so very much!’
Upon returning to the ballroom, Miss Banks did exactly as she had been told. When Lieutenant Blokker tried to approach her, she treated him to a look that would have done her crusty old grandmother proud and then went in search of her mother. The young man looked understandably crushed, but Anna hoped it had taught him a lesson. If he truly cared for Miss Banks, he would do whatever was necessary in order to further the connection in the manner of which society approved. If not, he wasn’t worth having in the first place.
‘Do you attempt to save them all from themselves?’ asked an amused masculine voice close to her ear. ‘Or only the ones who don’t know any better?’
Anna turned her head and found herself looking into the face of a stranger. A very handsome stranger, but a stranger none the less. ‘Were you speaking to me, sir?’
‘I was. And pray forgive my boldness, but I happened to be in the garden when you came upon the young lady, and such was my timing that I was privy to most of your conversation with her just now. She is indeed fortunate to have you as her champion.’
His voice was velvet over steel. Resonant, powerful, the kind of voice that held audiences spellbound and sent impressionable young women swooning. Anna could imagine him reciting Shakespeare on the stage at Drury Lane, or reading love sonnets by Bryon or Wordsworth, those low, sensual tones sparking desire in any young woman’s breast.
But was their meeting now entirely coincidental? While she thought him too old for Miss Banks and too casual in his addresses to her, the fact he had been in the garden at the same time as they had, and that he just happened to be standing next to her now, left her wondering.
‘I only attempt to save the ones I deem worthy of saving,’
she replied carefully. ‘The rest I leave to their own devices.’
‘Just as well,’ the gentleman said. ‘Most people sin for the fun of it and wouldn’t welcome your intervention, no matter how well intentioned. Unlike Miss Banks, whose romantic heart would likely have got the better of her had you not stepped in to save the day.’
Anna caught an undertone of amusement in his voice and, despite her natural inclination to be wary, found herself smiling back at him. He was certainly an attractive man. His face was long rather than square, his jaw angular, his cheekbones high and well formed. Intelligence gleamed in the depths of those clear grey eyes and his lips, curved upwards in a smile, were firm and disturbingly sensual. His clothes were expensive, his linen impeccable, and while his hair shone black in the light of a thousand candles, the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes put him closer to thirty than twenty.
No, he definitely wasn’t after Miss Mercy Banks, Anna decided. He could have eaten the silly little chit for dinner and still gone away hungry. But neither was this a casual conversation, of that she was sure. ‘I am undecided as to whether I should be flattered by your comments or offended by them,’ she said. ‘I had no idea my actions were being so closely observed.’
‘A gentleman should never make his attentions too obvious, Lady Annabelle. I pride myself on my ability to observe without being observed—a quality necessary to those who involve themselves in the convoluted lives of others. Wouldn’t you agree?’
Anna’s eyes widened. So, he knew who she was and what she was about. That alone should have put her on her guard, yet all it did was make her more curious. She liked a man who didn’t play games; Lord knew, London society was all too full of them. ‘I fear you have the advantage of me, sir.
You obviously know a great deal more about me than I do about you.’
‘Only because you are more visible in society,’ he murmured. ‘And as much as I regret the inequity of the situation, we both know it would be ill-mannered of me to introduce myself, so I shall wait for the thing to be done properly as you have so kindly offered to do for Miss Banks.’
His words abruptly called to mind the promise Anna had made earlier and her brows knit in consternation. ‘An offer made impetuously at best, I fear. Apart from the officer’s name, I know nothing about the man and have no idea if he is even worthy of an introduction.’
‘Then allow me to set your mind at rest. I happen to know that Lieutenant Giles Blokker is an amiable young man who, despite having behaved with the decorum of a rambunctious puppy, is an excellent catch. His father is Major Sir Gordon Blokker, who distinguished himself with Wellington on the Peninsula, and his mother is the former Lady Margaret Sissely. The boy was educated at Eton, went on to read English and history at Oxford, and, as his father’s only son, he is heir to a considerable estate. More importantly, I believe he is the kind of man of whom both Miss Banks’s mother and father would approve.’
Surprised by the extent of the man’s knowledge and by his willingness to share it, Anna inclined her head. ‘I am grateful for your recommendation, sir. How fortunate that you are so well acquainted with the officer.’
‘In fact, we’ve never met. But one hears a great many things during the course of one’s social day, and if I feel it is information that may be of use to someone else, I am happy to pass it along. I trust that, in this instance, it serves you well. Good evening, Lady Annabelle.’
With that, he bowed and walked away, leaving Anna with a host of unanswered questions tumbling around in her brain.
Who was he, and why did his sudden appearance at her side not seem as coincidental as he might like her to believe? By telling her all he had about Lieutenant Blokker, he’d put her in the enviable position of being able to make the promised introduction, aware that not only might she be introducing Miss Banks to her future husband, but that he was a gentleman worthy of the role. Had he known more about the predicament in which she’d landed herself than he had chosen to let on?
Not surprisingly, Anna found herself watching the handsome stranger as he moved around the room. She noticed that he did not linger with any one person or group for any length of time, but that his gaze touched on every person there, his expression unreadable as he took note of who they spoke to and with whom they danced. Even when he stopped to speak to an upright older gentleman who was clearly intent on engaging him in a serious conversation, his eyes continued in their restless study. Was he was a private investigator of some kind? He looked too aristocratic for such an occupation, but then, perhaps a man who didn’t look the part was exactly the sort of man who should be doing that kind of work.
He’d certainly made an impression on her. For once she’d actually enjoyed having a conversation with a gentleman newly met at a society function. Normally, she was quick to wish them over, knowing all too well what they were really all about.
Is this someone with whom I have anything in common? Do I feel a connection strong enough to spend the rest of my life with him? And, of course, what do we each stand to gain by aligning our families in marriage?
They were all questions Anna had asked herself in the past. And with that one unfortunate exception where the marriage would have been a disaster, the answers were always the same.
No, not likely, and nothing.
But this gentleman intrigued her. She found herself watching for him in the crowd, curious to see how he acted with other people, anxious to catch just one more glimpse of him. Wanting to know if he might be looking back at her.
And when he did and Anna felt her gaze trapped in the soft silver glow of his eyes, she knew it was too late to look away. She had carelessly exposed herself, allowing her interest in, and her curiosity about, a stranger to be revealed. Was it any wonder that when he tipped his head and slowly began to smile, she felt the heat rise in her cheeks and the breath catch in her throat?
Goodness, who would have thought that with just one look, he could make her feel as awkward as a schoolgirl, as young and as gauche as Miss Mercy Banks. Surely as a mature woman of twenty-four, she knew better than to encourage the attentions of a man she’d only just met …
Anna dipped her head and boldly returned his smile. No, clearly she did not. But as she opened her fan and reluctantly turned away, the knowledge that a handsome man whose name she didn’t know still had the power to make her blush was more than enough to keep the smile on her face for the rest of the evening.
‘Parker, have you heard anything I’ve said?’ Colonel Tanner demanded in a harsh whisper.
‘Every word, Colonel.’ Sir Barrington Parker’s expression didn’t change, though he was careful to pull his gaze from the face of the exquisite young woman who had just smiled at him across the room. No small feat for a man who appreciated beauty as much as he did. ‘You wish me to investigate the disappearance of your mistress—’
‘I never said she was my mistress!’ the older man blustered.
‘There was no need. Avoiding my eyes while you described her told me all I needed to know,’ Barrington said smoothly. ‘She is approximately twenty years old, slim, with dark brown hair and rather startling green eyes. The last time you saw her she was wearing a pale blue gown with a white shawl and a bonnet with either blue or black ribbons.’
The older man grunted. ‘Apologies. Just don’t like blathering on to a man who doesn’t appear to be listening.’
‘I wouldn’t accomplish much if I didn’t listen, Colonel,’ Barrington said, though in truth he hadn’t been paying as much attention as he should. Through the mirror on the wall behind Tanner, he had been watching Lady Annabelle Durst attempt to play matchmaker. She had waited until Lieutenant Giles Blokker was in the midst of a small group of people with whom she was obviously acquainted and had sought the necessary introduction. Then, as the other couples had drifted away, she had engaged Lieutenant Blokker in conversation, no doubt with the intent of bringing Miss Banks’s name into the discussion.
At that point, Barrington had seen a look of cautious optimism appear on Blokker’s face, followed moments later by one of genuine happiness. When Lady Annabelle turned and started in the direction of Miss Banks and her mother, the young pup had fallen into step behind her, clearly delighted that he was on his way to being formally introduced to the young lady who had captured his heart.
‘Where did you last see Miss Paisley, Colonel?’ Barrington asked, reluctantly dragging his attention back to the matter at hand.
‘Hogarth Road. I keep a house there. Nothing elaborate, you understand,’ the Colonel said gruffly. ‘Just a place for friends to use when they come up to London.’
Barrington nodded. He knew exactly what the house was used for and it certainly wasn’t the convenience of friends. ‘I shall make enquiries. Where can I reach you?’
‘Best send a note round the club. Wouldn’t do to have anything come to the house.’
Barrington inclined his head. Though most wives knew about their husbands’ affairs, none wanted proof of them showing up at their front doors. ‘As you wish.’
‘Look here, Parker, it’s not what you think,’ the Colonel said, clearing his throat. ‘Eliza’s not like the rest of them. She worked as a lady’s maid in a respectable establishment until the eldest son took a fancy to her. When she was turned off without references, one thing led to another until she ended up in a brothel. That’s where I met her,’ he said, again not meeting Barrington’s eyes. ‘She told me her story and naturally I felt sorry for her, so I asked her if she’d like to come and work for me. I knew Constance was looking for a new maid and I thought it might be a way of getting Eliza back into respectable employment.’
Barrington’s smile was purposely bland. ‘And did your wife agree to take Miss Paisley on?’
‘She did, but it wasn’t long before she realised there was something going on and I had to let Eliza go,’ the Colonel said regretfully. ‘Felt so damned guilty, I offered to put her up at the house on Hogarth Road until she was able to find something else.’
With the small stipulation, Barrington surmised, that she become his mistress while she was there. A gentleman’s altruism only extended so far. ‘It would seem Miss Paisley has much to be grateful to you for, Colonel.’
‘I thought so, which was why I was so surprised when she left without telling me,’ the Colonel said. ‘Bit concerned, if you know what I mean.’
Barrington did know and he wasn’t surprised. Tanner was a decent chap, somewhere in his mid-fifties, with four married children and eight grandchildren. His wife had been in poor health for the last five years and, though he was devoted to her in every other way, her ill health had prevented them from enjoying a normal marital relationship. So he had turned, as so many men did, to the ranks of the demi-monde and there he had encountered Miss Elizabeth Paisley, the young woman for whom he had developed an unfortunate affection. Now she was missing and the Colonel was worried about her.
Probably with good reason, Barrington thought as he shook the man’s hand and walked away. It was a simple fact that women of Miss Paisley’s ilk were concerned with one thing and one thing only. Survival. It wasn’t easy making a living on the streets of London. A woman never knew if the man who pulled her into a darkened alley and threw up her skirts was going to be a paying customer or the last man she ever saw alive. Being a prostitute was not without its risks. But being the mistress of a wealthy man took away those risks and gave a woman security. It put a roof over her head and kept food on her table. So why would someone like Miss Paisley walk away from all that if she’d had any other choice?
It was a question Barrington couldn’t answer. And as he prepared to leave Lady Montby’s reception—after deciding it was best that he not stop to engage the delightful Lady Annabelle in conversation again—he realised it was one that would trouble him until he did. To that end, he made a mental note to ask his secretary to make some initial enquiries into Elizabeth Paisley’s whereabouts. Sam Jenkins had been with Barrington long enough to know what kind of questions to ask and who to ask them of. Then, depending on what he turned up, Barrington would either call upon one of his extensive network to continue the investigation or delve into the matter himself.
He wasn’t sure why, but as he climbed into his carriage for the short ride home, he had a feeling there was more to the disappearance of Miss Elizabeth Paisley than met the eye.
Chapter Two (#ucab641c8-7305-5f15-8249-575d1e1e8658)
Anna pulled her dapple-grey mare to a halt by the base of a large oak and waited for Lady Lydia Winston to catch up with her. The two had made a point of riding together on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, and these rousing canters had become one of the highlights of Anna’s week. Lady Lydia, daughter of the Marquess of Bailley, was by far one of the most amusing and interesting people Anna had ever met.
‘Goodness!’ Lydia said as she drew her spirited Arabian bay level with Anna’s mare. ‘I was sure I had you at the big tree, but you sprinted past me as though I was standing still!’
‘I suspect Danby put oats in Ophelia’s bucket this morning.’ Anna reached down to give the mare’s glossy neck an affectionate pat. ‘She’s not usually that quick off the mark.’
‘Nevertheless, I had enough of a lead that it shouldn’t have made a difference. Tarik isn’t used to being left behind.’ Lydia’s ready smile flashed. ‘I won’t be so easily fooled the next time.’
Anna laughed, pleased that her little mare had done so well. She nudged her to a leisurely walk, content to enjoy the glorious morning sunshine and the relative emptiness of the park. During the fashionable hour, the avenue they were now travelling would be crowded with elegant carriages and their equally elegant passengers, but at this time of day it was the perfect place to enjoy a brisk canter.
‘By the by, have you heard the news?’ Lydia enquired.
‘That depends. All I heard at Lady Montby’s reception last week was that Cynthia Wicks had threatened to run away if her mother forced her to spend a month with her grandmother in Scotland.’
‘Good Lord, so would I,’ Lydia declared. ‘Lady Shallerton is a cold fish with whom I wouldn’t wish to spend an hour, let alone a month. But it wasn’t Miss Wick’s escapades I was referring to. It was the Baroness Julia von Brohm’s.’
‘Baroness von Brohm,’ Anna repeated slowly. ‘Should I know her?’
‘La, Anna, where have you been? It is all about town that the Viennese baroness has come to London to find a new husband.’
‘Why? What happened to her old one?’
‘He died. Almost two years ago now, leaving her a very lonely but extremely wealthy young widow. Apparently, he showered her with the most glorious jewellery and she was heartbroken when he died. Not because he gave her jewellery,’ Lydia was quick to say, ‘but because they were genuinely in love. But she is finished with her mourning now and has come to London to start a new life. I understand she’s taken a very fine house in Mayfair and is in the process of redecorating it from top to bottom.’
‘I’m surprised she would have chosen to leave Vienna at such a time,’ Anna remarked. ‘One would think she would prefer to stay with her family and friends.’
‘Friends I’m sure she has, but again, rumour has it that her only brother moved to America when she was quite young and hasn’t been heard from since. And both of her parents are dead.’
‘How tragic. What about her late husband’s family?’ Anna asked.
‘Apparently, they were never close. Difficulties with the mother-in-law, from what I hear.’
‘So Vienna is full of unhappy memories and the arms of her family hold no welcome. No wonder she decided to come to London,’ Anna said. ‘Has she any close friends here?’
‘I don’t believe so. Society is wildly curious about her, of course, but it hasn’t exactly thrown open its doors in welcome.’
‘Then we must be the first to do so,’ Anna said without hesitation. ‘I suspect once people see the daughters of the Marquess of Bailley and the Earl of Cambermere welcoming her, the rest of the doors will open soon enough. All it takes,’ she added with a knowing smile, ‘is that first little push.’
Barrington’s sword flashed once, cutting a smooth silver arc through the air and echoing down the length of the long gallery. Metal slid along metal as the two men moved through the orchestrated dance of extend, lunge, parry and retreat, and while concentration was etched on the faces of both men, only Barrington’s brow was dry. He feinted to the left, drawing his brother-in-law’s blade wide and ultimately opening him up to defeat.
‘Damn it!’ Tom Danvers snapped as the point of Barrington’s sword flicked his chest for the fifth time. ‘You’ve beaten me again!’
‘And I will continue to do so if you do not apply yourself more keenly to the sport,’ Barrington said, drawing back. ‘You won’t stand a chance if you keep both feet firmly planted on the ground, Tom. You need to keep moving. Dance on the balls of your feet.’
‘Oh, yes, that’s easy for you to say,’ the other man complained good-naturedly. ‘I’ve three stone and five years on you and it’s not so easy being nimble when you’ve more weight below your waist than above it!’
Barrington laughed. ‘Then tell that pompous French chef of yours to start preparing less fattening meals.’
‘What? And have him quit because I had the audacity to tell him what to cook! Jenny would have my head. Monsieur Etienne is the finest French chef in London!’ Tom exclaimed.
‘Be that as it may, he is not doing you any favours by serving all those heavy sauces and rich desserts,’ Barrington pointed out. ‘If you wish to be quicker on your feet, the weight will have to come off. In fact, I have a solution.’
‘I’m not sure I wish to hear it,’ Tom muttered.
‘Of course you do. I shall take Monsieur Etienne off your hands for a few weeks and you can have Mrs Buckers. I guarantee your clothes will fit better after only three days.’
‘Perhaps, but I won’t care because Jenny will have left me.’
Barrington clapped his brother-in-law on the back. ‘A man must sacrifice for his sport. Ah, there you are, Sam. Has my two o’clock appointment arrived?’
‘Not yet, Sir Barrington,’ the secretary said, ‘but another gentleman has and is asking to see you. I put him in your study.’
Barrington nodded. A visitor in his study meant one of his network had come in with information. Friends he welcomed in the gold salon. Any one else was made to wait in the hall until he had ascertained the nature of their business. He did not purport to be a private investigator, but, because of his past successes, there were those who sought him out regardless.
‘Thank you, Sam. Tell the gentleman I shall be there directly.’ He turned to smile at his brother-in-law. ‘Sorry to cut it short, Tom …’
‘No need to apologise. You’re a busy man, and, in truth, I’ve taken all the humiliation I can for one day,’ Tom said good-naturedly. ‘Before I go, however, Jenny wanted me to find out if you were available for dinner one night this week. She misses you dreadfully and even young George was heard to say it has been a great deal too long since his Uncle Barr came to play with him.’
Barrington’s pleasure was unfeigned. ‘Tell my sister I shall make a point of coming one evening this week, and then inform my nephew that I shall be sure to arrive early enough to play two games of hide and seek with him.’
‘He will not sleep for the knowledge,’ Tom said, starting for the door. ‘By the by, I should warn you that you won’t be the only guest.’
Barrington groaned. ‘Don’t tell me Jenny’s matchmaking again?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Who is it this time?’ He sighed.
‘Lady Alice Stokes.’
Barrington dug into his memory. ‘Lady Alice—?’
‘Stokes. Eldest daughter of the Earl of Grummond,’ Tom supplied helpfully. ‘Beautiful, cultured and an heiress in her own right. Jenny thinks she would be perfect for you.’
‘That’s what she said about the last three ladies she introduced me to and they were all unmitigated disasters.’
‘True, but at least you wouldn’t have to worry about Lady Alice marrying you for your money. Or for your title,’ Tom pointed out.
True enough, Barrington conceded. An earl’s daughter could do much better than a baronet, and if she had her own money, his wouldn’t be as much of an attraction. ‘Very well, you may tell my sister I shall come on Friday. That should give her ample time to put everything in place.’
‘You’re a brick, Barrington,’ Tom said in relief. ‘I was afraid you’d bow out if I told you the truth, but I didn’t like the idea of you being caught off guard.’
‘Rest assured, I shall be the perfect guest,’ Barrington said. ‘And you need not fear retribution from my sister. I shall act suitably surprised when the beautiful Lady Alice and I are introduced.’
‘You are a gentleman in every sense of the word.’
‘Just don’t let me hear any mention of the words engagement or marriage or I shall be forced to renege on my promise,’ he warned.
Tom grinned. ‘I shall do my utmost to make sure you do not.’
They parted on the best of terms; Tom to return to his happy home, Barrington to return to his study to find out what new information had come to light. While there might be more comfort in the former, he was not of a mind to complicate his life by taking a wife. Investigating the underhanded dealings of others was hardly conducive to forming intimate relations with gently reared young ladies. It was neither the occupation of a gentleman nor what he’d planned on doing when he’d returned to London after his father’s death.
However, when an unfortunate set of circumstances involving two of his father’s friends and a large sum of money had forced him into the role, Barrington had discovered a unique talent for uncovering the hidden bits of information others could not. His carefully cultivated network of acquaintances, many of whom held positions of power and even more who held positions of knowledge, made it easy for him to find out what he needed to know and, over time, he had established himself as a man who was able to find solutions for people’s problems.
Naturally, as word of his reputation had spread, so had his list of enemies, many of them the very men he had helped to expose. Beneath society’s elegant and sophisticated façade lurked a far more dangerous element—one comprised of men to whom honour and truth meant nothing. Men who were motivated by greed and who routinely committed crimes against their fellow man.
Hence Barrington’s wish to remain single. While he could be reasonably assured of his own safety, he knew that if his enemies tried to get to him through the woman he loved, he would have no choice but to comply with their demands. The unscrupulous did not trouble themselves with morals when it came to getting what they wanted.
That’s why he had taken to avoiding situations that might place him in such an awkward situation. He existed on the fringes of society, close enough to be aware of what was going on, but far enough away that he wasn’t seen as potential husband material. So far it had worked out well, much to the annoyance of his happily married sister. He was able to assist the people who came to him with problems, while avoiding the complications that came with marriage.
Now, as he headed to his study, Barrington wondered which of the sins was about to be revealed and who would be thrown out of Eden as a result. Paradise was sometimes a very difficult place in which to live.
‘Ah, Richard,’ he said, opening the door to see his good friend, Lord Richard Crew, standing at the far end of the room, his attention focused on a particularly fine painting by Stubbs that covered a large part of the end wall. ‘Still hoping I’ll sell it to you?’
‘Hope has nothing to do with it,’ Crew murmured. ‘Eventually, I’ll name a price you won’t be able to refuse.’
‘Don’t be too sure. I’ve rejected every offer you’ve put forward so far.’
‘Fine. I’ll make you another before I leave today.’
Barrington smiled as he moved towards his desk. Lord Richard Crew was an ardent lover of horse flesh and owned more paintings by Stubbs, Tillemans and Seymour than any other gentleman in London. Quietly picking them up as they came available for sale, he had amassed an impressive collection—with the exception of Whistlejacket, a magnificent painting of a prancing Arabian thoroughbred commissioned by the Marquess of Rockingham and acknowledged by many to be one of Stubbs’s finest. That was the piece of work currently hanging in Barrington’s study, and the fact that he owned the one painting his friend wanted more than any other was a constant source of amusement to him and an ongoing source of irritation to Crew.
‘Did it ever occur to you,’ Barrington asked now, ‘that money doesn’t enter into it?’
‘Not for a moment,’ Crew said, finally turning away from the canvas. ‘Every man has his price and it’s only a matter of time until I find yours. But rest assured, I will find it. And I know exactly where I’m going to put Whistlejacket once I finally wrest it from your iron grip.’
Barrington smiled. ‘And where might that be?’
‘In my study, opposite my desk. That way I’ll see it when I’m working.’
‘I would have thought you’d want it in your bedroom.’ Barrington moved to the credenza and poured brandy into two glasses. ‘That way, you’d see it most of the time.’
‘True, but I would only be paying it half as much attention.’ Crew’s smile widened into a grin. ‘After all, there are so many other pleasurable things to occupy oneself with in the bedroom, wouldn’t you agree?’
The question was rhetorical. Lord Richard Crew’s reputation as a lady’s man was honestly come by because, in point of fact, Crew adored women. He had ever since a buxom dairy maid had introduced him to the pleasures of Venus in the loft of his father’s barn, followed in quick succession by three of the housemaids, two of the village shop girls, and a married woman Crew had steadfastly refused to name.
As he’d grown into a man, his appreciation for the fairer sex had not waned, but out of respect for his parents, he’d left off tupping the household servants and moved on to ballet dancers and actresses. He had steadfastly avoided marriage and refused to trifle with virgins or débutantes, saying it was a matter of pride that he had never deflowered an innocent or given false hope to a well-born lady. And once it became known that he preferred his women uncomplicated and experienced, the list of married ladies willing to accommodate his voracious appetite grew.
Hence Barrington’s surprise when, during the investigation of the Marchioness of Yew’s infidelity, he’d learned that his good friend was finally in honest pursuit of the lady’s very respectable and exceedingly lovely nineteen-year-old daughter, Rebecca.
‘Sexual conquests aside, dare I hope you’ve come with news about the identity of Lady Yew’s alleged lover?’ Barrington enquired.
‘Nothing alleged about it.’ Crew strolled towards the desk and picked up a glass in his long, slender fingers. ‘I happened to be in the lady’s house on the occasion of the young man’s last visit and saw them acting very lover-like towards one another.’
‘How convenient. Were you there in hopes of seeing the lovely Lady Rebecca or to question the mother?’
‘Most definitely the former.’ Crew raised the glass to his nose and sniffed appreciatively. ‘Unlike our young Romeo, I have no interest in romancing ladies over the age of thirty. The bloom has long since gone from that rose.’
‘But with maturity comes experience,’ Barrington said, reaching for his own glass. ‘A gently reared miss of nineteen will know nothing of that.’
‘Fortunately, I am more than willing to teach her all she needs to know.’ Crew swallowed a mouthful of brandy, pausing a moment to savour its flavour before sinking into a chair and resting his booted feet on the edge of the desk. ‘However, returning to the matter at hand, the gentleman in question is not our typical Lothario. I’ve never heard his name mentioned in association with lady or ladybird; in truth, I’d never heard of him until his arrival in London just over a month ago. So the fact he has chosen to dally with a marquess’s wife is somewhat unusual.’
‘Are you sure they are lovers?’
Crew shrugged. ‘Lady Rebecca confided her belief that they are. She told me she’s seen the gentleman enter her mother’s private quarters on more than one occasion, and, as I was leaving, I saw them myself going upstairs together hand in hand.’
‘Damning evidence indeed,’ Barrington said. ‘And reckless behaviour for a man newly arrived in London. Does he suffer from a case of misplaced affection or unbridled lust?’
‘Knowing the marchioness, I suspect the latter,’ Crew said in a dry voice. ‘It’s well known she favours younger men because her husband is a crusty old stick twenty-five years older than she is.’
‘Still, she has charmed a legion of men both younger and older than herself, and, up to this point, her husband has always been willing to turn a blind eye,’ Barrington said. ‘For whatever reason, he is not inclined to do so this time.’
Crew shrugged. ‘Perhaps he fears a genuine attachment. It’s all very well for a woman to take a lover to her bed, but it is extremely bad taste to fall in love with him. People have been known to do abysmally stupid things in the name of love.’
‘Too true. So, who is the poor boy Lord Yew is going to flay?’
‘His full name is Peregrine Tipton Rand.’
‘Good Lord. Peregrine Tipton?’
‘A trifle whimsical, I admit, but he’s a country lad visiting London for the first time. Apparently, his father owns a farm in Devon. Rand’s the oldest of four brothers and sisters but he hasn’t shown much interest in taking over from his father. Seems he’s more interested in books than in bovines, so when the mother died, the father shipped him up here to stay with his godfather in the hopes of the boy acquiring some town polish. Unfortunately, all he acquired was an affection for Lady Yew.’
Barrington frowned. ‘How did a country boy come to be introduced to a marchioness?’
‘Through the auspices of Lord Hayle, Viscount Hayle.’
‘Hayle?’ Barrington’s eyebrows rose in surprise. The beautiful Lady Annabelle’s brother? ‘I wouldn’t have thought the Earl of Cambermere’s heir the type to associate with a country gentleman of no consequence.’
‘I dare say you’re right, but as it happens, he has no choice.
Rand is staying with the family. Cambermere is the man reputed to be his godfather.’
‘Reputed?’
‘There are those who say the lad bears a stronger resemblance to the earl than might be expected.’
‘Ah, I see.’ Barrington rapped his fingers on the desk. ‘Wrong side of the blanket.’
‘Possible, though no one’s come right out and said it.’
‘Of course not. Cambermere’s a powerful man. If he did father an illegitimate child years ago and now chooses to have the boy come live with him, no one’s going to tell him he can’t. Especially given that his own wife died last year.’
‘But there are other children living in the house,’ Crew pointed out. ‘Legitimate children who won’t take kindly to their father foisting one of his by-blows on them.’
Especially the son and heir, Barrington reflected grimly. Viscount Hayle was not the kind of man to suffer such a slight to his family name. If he came to suspect the true nature of Rand’s paternity, he could make things very difficult for all concerned. So difficult, in fact, that Rand might hightail it back to the country, and that was something Barrington had to avoid. He needed to find out as much as possible about the young man before news of his liaison with Lady Yew went public—because there was no doubt in Barrington’s mind that it would. The marchioness wasn’t known for being discreet. Her list of lovers was a popular topic of conversation at parties, and the fact that this time, her husband had chosen to make an example of the young man would definitely make for scintillating conversation over wine and cards.
‘You’ve gone quiet,’ Crew said. ‘Mulling over how best to break the news to dear Peregrine’s unsuspecting family?’
‘As a matter of fact, I was.’ Barrington got to his feet and walked slowly towards the long window. ‘I met Lady Annabelle Durst at Lady Montby’s reception the other week.’
‘Ah, the beautiful Anna,’ Crew murmured appreciatively. ‘Truly one of society’s diamonds. I cannot imagine why she’s still single.’
Barrington snorted. ‘Likely because she’s too busy trying to prevent silly young women from ruining themselves.’
‘An admirable undertaking, though knowing how many silly young women there are in London, I don’t imagine it leaves much time for looking after her own future.’
‘Virtually none,’ Barrington said, his thoughts returning to the lady whose existence he had first learned about during an investigation he’d undertaken the previous year. It had not involved Lady Annabelle directly, but had focused instead on the uncle of one of the girls she had been trying to help. As a result of that investigation, however, Barrington had become familiar with her name and with her propensity for helping naïve young girls navigate their way through the choppy waters of first love.
Always from a distance, of course. Given his own self-imposed boundaries, Barrington knew better than to risk getting too close to her, but he was strongly aware of her appeal and smart enough to know that she could be dangerous for that reason alone. He’d met a lot of women in his life, but there was something about Lady Annabelle Durst that set her apart from all the rest. Something rare. Something precious. Something indefinable …
‘Well, if you’re going to sit there all afternoon and stare into space, I’m leaving.’ Crew drained his glass and set it on the desk. ‘I am expected for tea with Lady Yew and her daughter; if you have nothing more to tell me, I may as well be on my way.’
‘Fine. But while you’re sipping tea and whispering endearments
in Lady Rebecca’s ear, see if you can find out anything else about her mother’s relationship with Rand,’ Barrington said. ‘The more I know about the situation, the better off I’ll be when it comes time to confront him with it.’
Crew unhurriedly rose. ‘I’ll ask, but, given the extent of the marquess’s displeasure, I doubt you’ll hear Rebecca or her mother mention the name Peregrine Rand with favour again.’
Anna was reading Shakespeare when the door to the drawing room opened. Leaving Hamlet on the page, she looked up to see their butler standing in the doorway. ‘Yes, Milford?’
‘Excuse me, my lady, but a gentleman has called and is asking to see Mr Rand.’
Anna glanced at the clock on the mantel. Half past eight. Somewhat late for a social call. ‘Did you tell him Mr Rand was from home?’
‘I did, but he said it was a matter of some urgency and wondered if you knew what time he might be home.’
‘Lord knows, I certainly don’t.’ With a sigh, Anna set her book aside. ‘Did the gentleman leave his card?’
Milford bowed and silently proffered the tray. Anna took the card and read the name. Sir Barrington Parker. How strange. She knew the man by reputation rather than by sight. A wealthy baronet with an impressive home, he was, by all accounts, a cultured, educated and exceedingly charming man who was also reputed to be one of London’s finest swordsmen. The story went that he’d spent several years in Paris training under a legendary French master; when his father’s death had compelled him to return to England, Sir Barrington had been besieged by the pinks of society asking him to teach them his skills. With very few exceptions, he had refused every request.
Why, then, would he be here now, asking after a man with whom he was unlikely to have even the slightest acquaintance? ‘Ask him to come in, Milford. Then inform my father that we have a visitor.’
The butler bowed. ‘Very good, my lady.’
The wait was not long. Moments later, the door opened again and Milford announced, ‘Sir Barrington Parker.’
Anna rose as the butler withdrew, but the moment the baronet arrived she stopped dead, totally unprepared for the sight of the man standing in her doorway. ‘You!’
‘Good evening, Lady Annabelle.’ Sir Barrington Parker strolled into the room, as impeccably turned out as he had been the night of Lady Montby’s reception. His dark jacket fit superbly across a pair of broad shoulders, his buff-coloured breeches outlined strong, muscular thighs and his cravat was simply yet elegantly tied. ‘I told you an occasion would present itself whereby our introduction could be made in a more acceptable manner.’
‘You did indeed,’ Anna said, struggling to recover from her surprise. She’d thought about him several times since meeting him at Lady Montby’s, and, while she’d found him a powerful presence there, he was, in the small confines of the drawing room, even more compelling. ‘I simply did not think it would be in my own home or that the illustrious Sir Barrington Parker would turn out to be the gentleman with whom I exchanged opinions the other night.’
‘Illustrious?’ His beautiful mouth lifted in a disturbingly sensual smile. ‘I fear you are confusing me with someone else.’
‘On the contrary, rumour has it that you are an excellent fencer and an unparalleled shot. And that you’ve uncovered more than your fair share of secrets about those who move in the upper reaches of society.’
His smile was indulgent, much like that of a teacher addressing an errant pupil. ‘You and I both know how foolish it is to put stock in rumours, Lady Annabelle. One never knows how or why they start and most often they are proven to be wrong.’
‘Do you deny that it was you who exposed Lord Bosker as an embezzler?’ Anna said. ‘Or that you just happened upon that letter naming his fine, upstanding cousin, Mr Teetham, as his accomplice?’
‘I tend to think the timing was, for the most part, coincidental,’ Sir Barrington said, careful to avoid a direct answer. ‘Their crimes would have come to light soon enough. They grew careless, too confident in their own ability to deceive.’
‘But you were the one who drew attention to what they were doing,’ Anna persisted. ‘Had you not, they would most likely have continued in their games and who knows what other crimes they would have perpetrated. But forgive my manners, Sir Barrington. Pray be seated.’
‘Thank you. And while your confidence in my ability is flattering, I should tell you it is entirely misplaced.’ He glanced at the chairs arranged in front of the fireplace and settled into the wingback chair opposite the one upon which her book lay open. ‘There were other people involved in their arrest and to a far greater extent than myself. But, as we are talking about other people’s affairs, how did matters proceed between Miss Banks and Lieutenant Blokker after you and I parted company the other night?’
Surprised he would even remember the conversation, Anna managed a smile. ‘Remarkably well, all things considered. Lieutenant Blokker turned out to be a delightful young man and I realized, after speaking with him, that while the manner of his approach to Miss Banks left much to be desired, his intentions were strictly honourable.’
‘Ah yes, the ill-fated rendezvous in the garden,’ Sir Barrington mused. ‘Not the best thought out of plans, but thanks to you no harm came of it.’
‘And thanks to you, the two are now formally introduced and eager to begin a courtship,’ Anna said. ‘But I don’t suppose Miss Banks’s romantic escapades have anything to do with your reason for being here this evening.’
‘Regrettably, they do not. I was actually hoping to speak to your house guest, Mr Rand, but I understand he is from home.’
‘Yes, he is.’ Anna gazed at him, surprised to feel her heart beating a little faster than usual. Obviously she wasn’t used to being alone with such a disturbingly handsome man. ‘I wasn’t aware the two of you were acquainted.’
His dark brows arched ever so slightly. ‘Are you acquainted with all of Mr Rand’s friends and associates, Lady Annabelle?’
‘As a matter of fact, I am. Peregrine has only recently come to stay with us, and, given how anxious my father was that he become known in society, I took the liberty of including him in all of my social activities,’ Anna said. ‘That being the case, I think I can safely say that I do know with whom he is and is not acquainted. I have never heard him speak of you.’
Briefly, the gentleman smiled, but while it softened the lines of his face, it did nothing to lessen the intensity of the expression in his eyes. ‘I am not acquainted with Mr Rand, Lady Annabelle, nor is he with me,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve come here at the behest of another, on a matter of extreme urgency to both.’
‘An urgent matter?’
‘Yes. One I would prefer to discuss in private with the gentleman. Or, failing that, with your father, if he is at home.’
‘He is, Sir Barrington,’ Lord Cambermere said, walking into the room. ‘But if Edward has done something that warrants discussion—’
‘It is not Edward Sir Barrington wishes to speak to you about, Papa,’ Anna said calmly. ‘It is Peregrine. And there is no point in my giving you privacy since we both know Peregrine will tell me everything the three of you say the moment Sir Barrington leaves.’
‘He may not wish to tell you this,’ Sir Barrington said, slowly getting to his feet. ‘And I would prefer to speak to you about it in private, my Lord.’
Cambermere frowned. He was a tall, solidly built man with warm brown eyes, a ruddy complexion and dark hair that was just beginning to show signs of grey at the temples. His clothes were more suited to a country gentleman than a man about town, but now that his year of mourning was over, Anna was hopeful he might once again take up an interest in socialising, and, by necessity, his appearance.
‘Yes, I’m sure you would,’ the earl said. ‘But I have no doubt Anna speaks the truth about the boy’s repeating everything we say. He’s my godson, you see, and the two have become as thick as thieves in the short time they’ve been together. I’m surprised he’s gone out without her tonight. Still, he’s a quiet enough lad. I can’t imagine him doing anything that would be inappropriate for Anna to hear about.’
Anna could tell from the look on the baronet’s face that he was less than pleased with her father’s decision. Equally aware that trying to force the earl into a private interview was not the conduct of a gentleman, Sir Barrington merely shrugged those broad shoulders and said, ‘Very well, though you may wish to change your mind once I begin to relate the details of the situation. You see, not long ago, a titled gentleman came to see me with regards to a personal matter concerning his wife.’
‘His wife?’ The earl looked decidedly confused. ‘What has this to do with Peregrine?’
‘The gentleman suspected his wife of having an affair,’ Sir Barrington continued. ‘Naturally, he asked me to make enquiries as discreetly as possible and to keep the results similarly confidential. He knew I’d had some success in this area and I agreed to look into the matter for him and see what I could learn. Now, having discovered the identity of the gentleman, I felt it behoved me to hear his side of the story. That’s why I’m here. I regret to inform you, Lord Cambermere,’ Sir Barrington said quietly, ‘that the gentleman guilty of having an affair with the wife of a highly placed nobleman is none other than your godson, Mr Peregrine Rand.’
Chapter Three (#ucab641c8-7305-5f15-8249-575d1e1e8658)
‘Peregrine!’ Anna said on a gas. ‘You think Peregrine is having an affair with a married woman? But that’s impossible!’
‘The facts would indicate otherwise,’ Sir Barrington said. ‘But perhaps you would care to explain why you believe it to be so unlikely?’
‘Because he isn’t the type to get involved in something like that. In fact, I don’t think he’s ever even been involved with a woman. He is … a student of history,’ Anna said, needing to make him understand why his accusation was so totally misplaced. ‘Old bones and ancient ruins hold far more appeal for Peregrine than would the charms of the most practised seductress.’
At that, Sir Barrington’s mouth lifted in a smile. ‘I doubt Lord Yew would appreciate his wife being referred to as a practised seductress, but—’
‘Lord Yew!’ Cambermere interrupted. ‘Dear God, don’t tell me you’re talking about the marchioness?’
‘I am.’
‘Damn!’ The earl muttered something under his breath, then abruptly turned to his daughter. ‘I think under the circumstances it would be best if Sir Barrington and I were to continue this conversation in private, Anna. There’s nothing here you need to be involved with.’
‘But why not? I already know the worst,’ Anna said. ‘And I stand by my claim that Peregrine is innocent of the charge.’
‘Unfortunately, I have evidence to the contrary,’ Sir Barrington put in. ‘And I do not intend to reveal that in front of you, no matter what your father says.’
‘Of course not,’ Cambermere mumbled. ‘Not fit for a lady’s ears, I’m sure. But I will have the details of it before the lad comes home.’
‘But, Papa—’
‘No, my dear. Sir Barrington and I will discuss this alone,’ her father said firmly. ‘When Peregrine gets home, have Milford send him straight to my study. And you are not to speak with him beforehand.’
Anna said nothing as the two men left the room because, in truth, she didn’t know what to say. Peregrine involved in a scandalous affair with a married marchioness? Impossible! Even if he were to lift his head out of his books long enough to look at a woman, it certainly wouldn’t be to one married to another man. He had a stronger moral code than that, of that she was sure.
And yet Sir Barrington Parker claimed to have proof of the affair. What kind of proof could he have, and how had Peregrine come to be accused of this wretched undertaking in the first place? Had Lord Yew a grudge against him? Perhaps as the result of a card game or a wager? Had they had words over some political issue, or a difference of opinion over the current government’s handling of some matter of concern to both of them?
There had to be something. Anna refused to believe that Peregrine would ever stoop to something as shoddy as an affair. He might have been raised in the country, but everything about his behaviour thus far convinced her that his parents had instilled good moral values in him.
Why should that change simply because he was visiting London for the first time?
‘And you are quite sure of your facts?’ Cambermere said unhappily.
‘Quite.’ Barrington walked unhurriedly around the earl’s study. It was a comfortable room—masculine yet not oppressively so, with large leather chairs, several glass-fronted bookcases and a large mahogany desk, the surface of which was covered with papers and estate ledgers. Tall windows bracketed a portrait of the fifth Earl of Cambermere, the present earl’s father, and on the wall opposite hung one of a lady Barrington suspected of being the late Lady Cambermere.
Obviously, the earl liked looking at his wife’s portrait. Perhaps she’d spent time with him here, keeping him company while he worked on the complexities of estate business. Certainly there was evidence of a woman’s touch in the room: the brass candlesticks on the side table; the throw cushions that picked up the dark blue of the curtains; the warmth of the Axminster carpet. All the small, homely things that turned a house into a home. All the things his own house was so noticeably lacking.
‘I never lay charges without being sure, my Lord,’ Barrington said. ‘It wastes time and inflicts unnecessary pain on the innocent. Mr Rand’s activities were confirmed by a family member who saw the two enter Lady Yew’s chamber and by a friend of mine who happened to be in the house at the same time as Rand. He was quite specific about the details of Mr Rand’s visit, right up until the time he and the lady went upstairs arm in arm.’ Barrington turned to face the older man. ‘And regardless of whether or not what took place upstairs was of an intimate nature, you know as well as I do that his being alone with the marchioness is more than enough to convict him.’
‘Damn!’ the earl swore again. ‘I never expected behaviour like this from Peregrine. Edward’s always been one for the ladies. God knows how many have lost their hearts to him. But he’s a good-looking lad and as charming as they come.’
‘Has he shown no interest in marrying?’
‘No, and at almost twenty-six, he’s of an age where that’s exactly what he should be turning his mind to,’ the earl said testily. ‘I’ve told him as much, but he doesn’t pay heed to me. Says he’ll marry when he’s good and ready and not a moment before.’
‘So he likes to play the field,’ Barrington said.
‘Always has. But Rand isn’t inclined that way. In the time he’s been here, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk about a woman, let alone embroil himself in a sordid affair with one. My daughter was right in that regard.’
Barrington didn’t bother to offer a reply. Family dynamics were neither of importance nor of interest to him. Emotion had to be kept separate from fact or everything risked drowning in sentimentality. Some might consider him cold for harbouring such a belief, but as far as he was concerned, it was the only way to do business. ‘My Lord, I trust you appreciate the gravity of the situation,’ he said bluntly. ‘Lord Yew is understandably angry that his wife entered into an intimate relationship with another man; while it is correct to say that the lady is equally to blame, it is the gentleman the marquess intends to punish.’
‘Of course,’ Cambermere agreed. ‘Men are always at fault in these situations. Well, what do you propose we do about it?’
Barrington was about to answer when the door to the room burst open and Lady Annabelle swept in, all blazing eyes and righteous indignation. ‘Forgive me, Papa, but I simply cannot stand by and allow Sir Barrington’s accusation to go unchallenged. Peregrine would never do something like this. It runs contrary to everything he stands for—which leads me to believe that it must be Sir Barrington’s information that is in error.’
Barrington stared at the woman standing just inside the door, aware that she truly was magnificent. The candlelight deepened her hair to a rich, burnished gold and, in the dim light, her eyes shone a clear, deep blue. She was like a golden lioness protecting her cub. He almost hated having to be the one to prove her wrong. ‘I have someone ready to swear that Mr Rand spent time alone with the marchioness in her private rooms, Lady Annabelle,’ he said quietly. ‘I need not tell you how damaging such a disclosure would be.’
He saw her eyes widen and knew that she did indeed appreciate the gravity of what he’d just said. But it was equally clear that she still didn’t believe him. ‘How do you know your witness was telling the truth, Sir Barrington? You have only his word that what he claims to have happened really did. I know Peregrine and I can assure you that he is not the type of man—’
‘Anna, please,’ her father interrupted. ‘If Sir Barrington says he has proof of Peregrine’s guilt, we must believe him.’
‘But why? If he only took the time to speak with Peregrine, he would know that what he is suggesting is quite impossible.’
Cambermere sighed. ‘You must forgive my daughter, Sir Barrington. She has grown uncommonly fond of my godson in the short time he’s been here and is clearly reluctant to hear ill spoken of him.’
‘I understand,’ Barrington said, wondering if the closeness between the lady and Mr Rand had anything to do with the fact that they might well be brother and sister. ‘Is Mr Rand spending the rest of the Season with you?’
The earl nodded. ‘That was the plan. His father and I are … old friends. We were … at school together,’ he said, glancing at a file on his desk. ‘Haven’t seen him in years, of course, but I was at his wedding and agreed to stand as godfather to his firstborn.’ He turned towards the window, his face half in shadow. ‘A few months ago, I received a letter from him, telling me that his wife had died and asking if I’d be willing to take Peregrine for a few months. Show him the sights of London, that sort of thing.’
‘And you agreed.’
‘I thought it the right thing to do.’ The earl swallowed hard, his voice when he spoke gruff. ‘He is my godson, after all.’
Barrington nodded, not sure whether it was grief or regret that shadowed the earl’s voice. ‘Are you aware of the company your godson keeps, Lord Cambermere?’
‘Can’t say that I am. His interests run vastly different to mine. He doesn’t ride, he prefers not to hunt and I don’t believe he’s all that partial to moving in society. As my daughter said, he would rather spend his evenings with a book.’
Or in the marchioness’s bed. ‘Do you know where he is this evening?’ Barrington enquired.
He saw the look that passed between Cambermere and his daughter, but wasn’t surprised when the earl said, ‘No. As I said, I don’t make a study of the boy’s comings and goings.’
‘Yet you said Lady Annabelle usually goes with him to social engagements.’
‘Yes.’
‘Then why is she not with him tonight?’ Barrington asked.
Barrington glanced at Lady Annabelle as he waited for a response. What little he knew of her encouraged him to believe that she would give him an honest answer. But when he saw her colour rise and her golden brows knit together, he suspected she already had. ‘I see.’
‘No, you don’t see!’ Lady Annabelle said quickly. ‘Peregrine didn’t ask me to accompany him because he was going to visit someone with whom he was already acquainted. It wasn’t necessary that I go along.’
‘Were you not surprised that you did not also receive an invitation to the reception?’
‘Not at all. There are often events to which I am invited that other members of my family are not,’ she explained. ‘We may move in the same circles, Sir Barrington, but we do not have all the same friends.’
Barrington knew there was nothing to be gained in challenging the remark. Lady Annabelle was trying to defend Mr Rand—and failing badly in the attempt. ‘Lord Cambermere,’ he said finally, ‘my client has made it clear that he intends to make an example of the man involved with his wife. However, for the sake of you and your family, I would prefer to see this matter settled quietly and with as little scandal as possible. If I could get Lord Yew to agree to it, would Mr Rand be willing to break off his association with Lady Yew and swear that he would never see her again? Perhaps be willing to write a letter to that effect?’
Cambermere nodded. ‘I don’t see why he would not—’
‘But why should he write such a letter, Papa!’ Lady Annabelle demanded. ‘If he has done nothing wrong, surely there is no—!’
‘Enough, Anna! If you cannot keep silent, I will ask you to leave,’ her father said, displaying signs of impatience for the first time that evening. ‘I don’t know if you appreciate how serious a matter this is. In years gone by, Peregrine would have been called out for such an offence. In fact, I’m sure the thought crossed Yew’s mind. He is not a man to be trifled with.’
‘But you are condemning him without trial,’ she persisted. ‘Pronouncing him guilty without even giving him a chance to prove his innocence. All on the strength of this man’s say so!’ she added, her voice suddenly growing cold.
Barrington’s eyes narrowed. So, the fair Lady Annabelle would defend her visitor to the last, blindly ignoring the evidence that he had put forward. Pity. While her loyalty did her credit, all it meant was that the outcome of the situation would be that much more painful for her in the end.
‘If I may suggest,’ he said slowly, ‘I am well aware of how shocking this must sound and agree that Mr Rand must have his hearing and be given a chance to explain. But I do have an appointment with Lord Yew tomorrow afternoon and he will be looking for answers. So I would ask that you speak to Mr Rand as soon as possible and get back to me at the earliest opportunity.’
‘I shall speak to him the moment he returns home this evening,’ the earl said, ‘and send word to you first thing in the morning.’
‘Thank you. You have my card.’ Barrington glanced at Annabelle, but wasn’t surprised that she refused to meet his eyes. ‘I regret, Lady Annabelle, that our introduction should have taken this form. It is not how I wished we might have started out.’
‘Nor I, Sir Barrington.’ She did look at him then and Barrington saw how deeply she was torn. ‘If you knew Peregrine as I do, you would understand why I say that he is incapable of such a deceit.’
‘Sadly, it is not possible for me to be intimately acquainted with everyone I am asked to investigate. Nor would it do me any good to encourage that kind of relationship. I must judge what I see without emotion clouding my vision. I trust the word of those who provide me with information and trust my own skills when it comes to assessing the value of what they’ve told me. I have no reason to doubt the source of this particular piece of information.’
‘Yet who is to say that your source is any more honest than Peregrine?’ she parried. ‘He is as much a stranger to you as your source is to us. Does he even know Mr Rand?’
‘By sight, and that is all that matters,’ Barrington said. ‘I deal in facts, Lady Annabelle. Not emotion. One dilutes the other to such an extent that the truth is often unrecognisable.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not sure I like your truths, Sir Barrington. You presume a great deal without being personally involved.’
‘It is because I am not personally involved that I am able to reach the conclusions I do.’
‘Then I sincerely hope that when we come to you with proof of Peregrine’s innocence, you will offer him as sincere an apology as he deserves,’ she said.
Barrington inclined his head. ‘I will be happy to offer an apology if such is warranted. But if he is guilty, I expect the same courtesy from you. I’m good at what I do, Lady Annabelle—and I haven’t been wrong yet.’
Her chin rose and he saw a flash of defiance in her eyes. ‘There is a first time for everything, Sir Barrington. And in this instance, I will enjoy being the one who points it out to you.’
Barrington stared down at her, aware that while she frustrated him to the point of distraction, she also aroused in him feelings of an entirely different nature. In fact, he was finding it harder and harder to look at her and not imagine how she would feel in his arms. How the softness of her body would fit into the hard angles of his and how sweet the taste of her lips would be.
And that was the problem. While he admired her more than any woman he’d ever met, the fact that he wanted her in his bed was an unforeseen and unwelcome complication.
‘I expect time will provide the answer to that,’ he said, offering her a bow. ‘My lord,’ he said, turning to her father, ‘I look forward to your visit on the morrow.’
‘I will be there, Sir Barrington.’ The earl’s face was set in grim lines. ‘Of that you can be sure.’
In the weighted silence that followed, Anna restlessly began to pace.
‘You don’t like Sir Barrington,’ her father said flatly.
‘It is not so much the man I dislike as his attitude,’ Anna muttered, her eyes on the faded pattern of the carpet. ‘I am as deeply convinced of his error as he is of mine, yet he is intractable.’
‘And you are not?’ her father retorted. When she said nothing, he continued, ‘What of his claim that he has never been wrong?’
‘A man may make whatever claim he likes, but we have only his word that it is the truth. And regardless of what he says, I will not believe Peregrine guilty of this.’ Anna stopped and looked at her father. ‘You know what kind of man he is, Papa. You’ve spent time with him. Talked with him at length.’
‘Yes, I have, but women can make fools of us all. And sometimes circumstances compel us to do things … to be things … we would not normally do or be,’ her father said.
Anna shook her head. ‘That may hold true for some men, but not Peregrine. He is a good and honest man. I would stake everything I own on that.’
‘Then I would advise you to be careful, my dear. Sometimes what we believe in our hearts is as far from the truth as it is possible to be. And that which we say will never happen, happens with alarming regularity.’
‘You’re speaking in generalities,’ Anna said. ‘I’m talking about Peregrine, and I know him a damned sight better than—’
‘Annabelle!’
Anna sighed. ‘A great deal better than does Sir Barrington Parker. Besides, if Lady Yew is having an affair, it is only what her husband deserves, cold, unfeeling man that he is.’
‘Nevertheless, she is his wife and it is her duty to remain faithful to him,’ the earl said.
‘Even though he has kept a score of mistresses since the day they were married?’
The earl’s face flushed. ‘You should not be speaking of such things!’
‘Why not? It isn’t as though Lord Yew makes an effort to conceal his activities. He is constantly seen at the theatre with one or other of his mistresses. I’m surprised he hasn’t invited them home to dine—’
‘Enough! I will not hear you speak of such things, Anna,’ the earl said harshly. ‘Go back to the drawing room and continue with your needlework. I shall deal with Peregrine when he comes home and then we will settle this matter once and for all!’
It was well past midnight by the time Peregrine finally came home. Lying awake in bed, Anna heard the front door open, followed by the sound of muffled conversation. No doubt Milford telling Peregrine that the earl wished to see him. She heard footsteps, the sound of another door opening and closing, and then silence.
How long would the interview take? Would her father give Peregrine a chance to explain himself? Or would he assume, as Sir Barrington had, that Peregrine was guilty and demand that he make amends at once?
It did not make for pleasant contemplation and, irrationally, Anna wished it had been anyone but Sir Barrington Parker who had brought forward the accusation. Because despite what she’d said to him tonight, she was attracted to him, more than to any man she’d ever met. She felt surprisingly at ease in his company, even though the sight of him set her pulse racing and her thoughts whirling. She enjoyed his sense of humour, admired his intellect and sensed that beneath that cool and controlled exterior beat the heart of a strong and passionate man.
But how could she be attracted to any man who wilfully intended to persecute a man whom she considered as practically a member of her family? Their formal introduction had been made as the result of his coming here to investigate Peregrine’s behaviour. An erroneous investigation, Anna assured herself. Because if she allowed herself to believe that Peregrine would indulge in such a pastime, it could only mean that she didn’t know him as well as she’d thought—and she liked to believe that being able to read people on an intuitive level was something she did well.
It was what enabled her to offer advice to confused young women who came to her, and to their equally confused mothers. By cutting through the layers of emotion, she was able to see down to the bones of the situation. And yet, was that not the very justification Sir Barrington Parker had used for his conduct tonight?
‘… I deal in facts, Lady Annabelle. Not emotion. One dilutes the other to such a degree that the truth is often unrecognisable …’
Perhaps, but in this case, emotion was all Anna had to go on. Emotion and trust. She had to believe in the integrity of her family and all they stood for. For where would she be—indeed, where would any of them be—if she could not?
Anna awoke to the first rays of sunshine slanting in through her bedroom window and realised that she had fallen asleep without ever having heard Peregrine come upstairs. Bother! Now she had no way of knowing what the result of his conversation with her father had been. Nor could she just barge into Peregrine’s room and ask him. He might be her father’s godson, but he was still a young, single male and it would be inappropriate for her to go to his room alone, even under circumstances like these.
With that in mind, Anna quickly rang for her maid and set about getting dressed. Peregrine was normally an early riser, but if she could catch him before he set off, she might have a chance of finding out what she needed to know. Unfortunately, though she hurried her maid through her preparations, it wasn’t timely enough. By the time she reached Peregrine’s room and knocked on the door, there was no answer and she could hear nothing from inside. He must have already gone down for breakfast. Perhaps he’d passed a poor night after the interview with her father.
Given how angry her father had been, Anna knew that to be a definite possibility.
In the breakfast room, however, she was disappointed to find only her brother seated at the long table. Edward looked up at her entrance, his greeting somewhat reserved. ‘Good morning, Anna.’
Anna inclined her head as she made her way to the sideboard. ‘Edward.’ Though only two years separated them in age, they had never enjoyed a close relationship. Edward tended to belittle her efforts at helping others, while she couldn’t understand his cavalier treatment of friends and servants alike. She had once seen him cut a good friend dead when word of the fellow’s marriage to a lady of lesser standing had reached him, saying that anyone who associated with rubbish was like to be tainted by the smell. And when his valet had come down with a fever, Edward had dismissed him, saying he couldn’t abide to be in the same house as a sick man. Her father had offered to reassign the poor man to the stable, but not surprisingly, the valet had chosen to leave.
Now, as Anna helped herself to a slice of ham, a piece of toast and a boiled egg, she was thankful the rest of the staff were in such excellent health. ‘Have you seen Peregrine this morning?’ she asked, sitting down across from her brother.
Edward didn’t look up from his newspaper. ‘No.’
‘What about Papa?’
‘Out.’ He turned the smoothly ironed page. ‘Said he would be back in an hour.’ He glanced at the clock. ‘That was half an hour ago.’
So, her father had already left to meet with Sir Barrington Parker. That meant she had to speak to Peregrine as soon as possible. But where was he? And if he’d gone out, when might he be back? If she could talk to him, find out what had really happened, she might be able to speak to Sir Barrington on his behalf.
Leaving her plate untouched, she got up and headed for the door.
‘What, no breakfast?’ Edward enquired. ‘Cook will be displeased.’
‘I haven’t time. I have to find Peregrine.’
‘He’s probably still in his room,’ Edward said, turning another page. ‘I understand he was drinking quite heavily at the Grundings’ soirée last night.’
Anna stilled. ‘Where did you hear that?’
‘From someone who was there.’ He finally looked up and smiled. ‘It seems our country guest is finding London very much to his liking.’
Pursing her lips, Anna left the room. Edward hadn’t meant the remark kindly. For whatever reason, he’d taken an instant dislike to Peregrine and had taken to making snide comments about his appearance, his manner of dress, even his accent. Anna had taken him to task about it several times, but it hadn’t made any difference. The sniping continued and Edward made no attempt to hide his feelings when Peregrine was around.
Fortunately, Peregrine knew how Edward felt about him, but he refused to make an issue of it, saying it likely stemmed from the difference in their upbringings. Edward had been raised in a nobleman’s house and was heir to an earldom, whereas Peregrine had been raised on a farm with parents who, though comfortable, were neither titled nor gentry.
Still, he was a guest in their home and he deserved better. Anna liked him very much. Despite his obvious lack of sophistication, he was good natured and quick to laugh and didn’t belittle her efforts the way Edward did. He admired her for caring enough about the welfare of others to get involved and he also liked many of the same things she did, so they frequently found themselves laughing together at the various social events they went to.
Edward, on the other hand, was never to be found in the same room as Peregrine. Supremely conscious of his own position in society, he sought the company of those equal to him or blessed with a higher status. If there was a snob in the Durst family, it was definitely her brother.
Reaching Peregrine’s door, Anna raised her hand and knocked. ‘Peregrine?’ When she heard no response, she waited a moment and then tentatively pushed it open.
He wasn’t there. Worse, his bed hadn’t been slept in.
Anna felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach. Where had he spent the night and where was he now? Equally important, what kind of mood was he in? Peregrine was an uncommonly sensitive man. If her father had falsely accused him of having an affair with Lady Yew, Peregrine might well have left the house angry and embarrassed that his godfather would believe such shameful lies about him. But where could he have gone?
There was only one way to find out. Heading to her bedroom, Anna fetched her bonnet and gloves. Returning to the hall, she rang for Milford and asked to be told where Sir Barrington Parker lived.
‘Lady Annabelle Durst, Sir Barrington,’ Sam said quietly.
Barrington looked up from the deed of land he had been perusing and saw the lady standing in his doorway. She looked like a breath of summer in a gown of pale yellow silk trimmed with deeper yellow ribbons, an elegant wide-brimmed bonnet perched atop her golden hair. Her lips were a soft dusky rose, but her blue eyes appeared unusually bright against the pallor of her skin. She was distraught and, recognising that, he rose at once. ‘Lady Annabelle.’
‘I hope my timing is not inconvenient, Sir Barrington.’
‘Not at all. Pray come in. Bring your maid, if you wish.’
‘No, I would rather speak to you privately.’ Lady Annabelle waved the girl into a chair outside his study. ‘I cannot bear not knowing.’
So, it was curiosity that had compelled her to come. Obviously, she hadn’t spoken to her father yet. Barrington indicated the high-back chair in front of the fireplace. ‘Won’t you sit down?’
She did not. Visibly upset, she began to pace. Barrington understood the compulsion. He had been a pacer once himself. ‘May I ring for tea?’
‘Thank you.’ This time, she did look at him. ‘That would be most welcome.’
He glanced at Sam, who nodded and quietly withdrew.
For a moment Barrington said nothing, more interested in studying her than he was in initiating a conversation. She was as beautiful as ever, but this morning she looked to be drawn as tight as a finely strung bow. He had a feeling that if he pulled too hard, she would snap. ‘What did you wish to ask me, Lady Annabelle?’ he said softly.
Her head turned towards him, her blue eyes filled with misgivings. ‘Have you seen my father this morning?’
‘I have.’
‘And? Did he speak to you about Peregrine?’
Barrington nodded, aware that he was far more in control of his emotions than she was of hers. ‘Are you sure you won’t sit down?’
‘Please … just tell me,’ she implored. ‘I wanted to ask Peregrine myself, but he wasn’t in his room this morning; by the looks of his bed, he hadn’t slept there at all.’
‘I suspect he did not,’ Barrington agreed. ‘Lord Cambermere informed me that after his conversation with Mr Rand last night, the young man left the house without any indication as to where he was going or when he might return. Apparently he was in a state of considerable distress.’
He saw her eyes briefly close. ‘Did he admit to … what you accused him of?’
Barrington wished he could have said otherwise, but he wouldn’t lie. Not even when he knew the boy had. ‘No.’
With a soft cry, Lady Annabelle sank into a chair. ‘I knew it! I knew he was innocent.’ When Barrington made no response, she raised her head, her eyes narrowing at the expression on his face. ‘You don’t believe him.’
‘It takes more than a man saying he didn’t do something for me to believe him innocent when the evidence speaks so clearly of his guilt.’
‘But why would he lie?’ she protested.
Barrington gave a non-committal shrug. ‘Why does anyone lie? To protect themselves or to protect someone else. I’m sure you’ve had dealings with young women who told you one thing, yet did another.’
‘Yes, because they had no wish for their misdemeanours to become public.’
‘Exactly. Mr Rand is likely embarrassed by what he’s done and hopes to convince others that he is not at fault.’
He saw her stiffen. ‘Peregrine has never lied to me.’
‘Perhaps there has not been enough at stake for him to do so,’ Barrington said quietly. ‘Now there is.’
The door opened again and Sam walked in, carrying a silver tea service. At a nod from his employer, he set the tray on the small table beside the desk and then quietly withdrew. Barrington crossed to the table and picked up the milk jug. ‘Milk and sugar?’
‘Just milk, thank you.’
He poured a drop into one of the cups, then filled both cups with hot tea. Accepting hers, Lady Annabelle said, ‘I still think you’re wrong, Sir Barrington. If Peregrine said he is not involved with Lady Yew, he is not. Why can you not accept that as truth?’
‘Because the rest of his behaviour leads me to believe otherwise. How do you explain the fact that he chose not to stay home last night?’
‘I suspect he was deeply embarrassed by my father believing him capable of such reprehensible conduct. Would you not wish to avoid someone who had accused you of doing something you had not?’
‘Maybe. But I also like to think I would be mature enough to admit my mistakes, if I were so foolish as to make them.’
‘And I repeat, I do not believe Peregrine has made a mistake.’
He heard the quiet certainty in her voice and was moved to smile. He, too, had once been so trusting; so willing to believe in the goodness of others. When had he lost that naïveté?
‘The attraction between a man and a woman is one of the most powerful forces on earth, Lady Annabelle,’ he said. ‘You have no idea how many crimes are committed, and how many lies are told, in the name of that attraction.’
‘Not perhaps as well as you do,’ Lady Annabelle agreed, ‘but we are talking about Peregrine’s character and of that I believe I can speak with authority. If he told my father he is not having an affair with Lady Yew, he is not.’
‘Then it would seem we have reached an impasse,’ Barrington said. ‘There is nothing more to say.’
She looked somewhat taken aback by his easy acceptance of her statement, but, equally willing to accept it at face value, she finished her tea and then set the china cup and saucer back on the table. ‘What will you tell Lord Yew?’
‘I don’t know,’ Barrington said honestly. ‘But I have between now and two o’clock to work it out.’
‘Then I shall leave you to your deliberations.’ She stood up and offered him her hand. ‘Thank you for seeing me, Sir Barrington.’
‘My pleasure.’ Barrington felt the softness of the glove in his hand, the slenderness of the fingers within. ‘I’m sorry that circumstances are such that you leave believing the worst of me. Again.’
‘Actually, I don’t. We each have our own ways of involving ourselves in other people’s lives, Sir Barrington,’ Lady Annabelle said. ‘I tend to think the best and assume people innocent until proven guilty, whereas you believe the exact opposite.’
‘Not at all. I simply strive to uncover the truth,’ Barrington said. ‘That is why people come to me. And experience has taught me that if the truth is not immediately discernible, it will come out in the end.’
‘Then at least you and I are able to part knowing that the truth of this matter has already been established,’ she replied. ‘Goodbye, Sir Barrington.’
Barrington inclined his head, but said nothing as she left the room. He stood by his desk until he heard the sound of the front door close before letting his head fall back and breathing a long, deep sigh.
So, the lovely Anna thought the matter closed. Wrong. Peregrine Rand was guilty. The fact he had chosen not to confess his sin meant absolutely nothing. In his heart, he knew what he’d done and, if Peregrine was as noble as Lady Annabelle made him out to be, guilt would eat away at him until he had no choice but to make a clean breast of it. Either way, the young man was doomed to failure.
As it seemed was he, Barrington reflected, when it came to securing the good opinion of the lovely Lady Annabelle Durst. If it turned out that his accusations were correct and Rand was guilty of having an affair with Lady Yew, she would resent him for having proven her wrong. On the other hand, if Rand was telling the truth, she would resent him for having doubted his integrity in the first place. In short, they had reached a stalemate. And contrary to what either of them might wish to believe, in a situation like this, there was simply no way one or the other of them was going to win.
Chapter Four (#ulink_26a082d9-09b5-5564-a6e9-7f13a5e7381d)
Anna finally caught up with Peregrine later that afternoon. She had been resting in her room, nursing the megrim she’d had for the better part of the day, when she heard the heavy thump of footsteps in the hall and realised he was finally home. Pushing the lavender eye pads aside, she quickly got up and went to the door. ‘Peregrine!’
He clearly wasn’t in the mood for conversation. Dressed in boots, hacking jacket and breeches, he didn’t stop when she hailed him and was almost at the bottom of the stairs before she finally caught up with him. ‘Peregrine, wait! I need to talk to you.’
‘I haven’t time.’ His voice was unusually brusque. ‘I’m going riding with friends and I’m already late.’
‘Then you’ll just have to be a few minutes later,’ Anna said, putting her hand on his arm and turning him around. ‘Where were you last night? I was worried about you.’
‘You had no reason to be. I simply went out.’
‘But not until after you spoke to Papa. Why did you leave again? And why didn’t you come home?’
He flicked the hard leather crop against the top of his boot. ‘I lost track of time. When I realised how late it was, I decided it was best I just stay out.’
‘Why? Because of something Papa said?’
Peregrine was a good-looking young man with a shock of thick, black hair, deep brown eyes and a wide, generous mouth. A mouth that suddenly narrowed in anger. ‘I don’t care to talk about it.’
‘But you don’t have a choice, Peregrine. There’s a rumour going around town that you are having an affair with Lady Yew,’ Anna said, needing him to understand the gravity of the situation. ‘I know it isn’t true, but you can’t simply pretend the rumour doesn’t exist.’
‘As a matter of fact, I can. I told your father as much when he questioned me about it last night and I certainly don’t intend to stand here and justify my behaviour to you!’
Stung by the vehemence of his reply, Anna said, ‘I’m not asking for justification. I just told you I don’t believe what people are saying. But a meeting is being held this afternoon between Lord Yew and the man he asked to investigate his wife’s infidelity and your name is going to come up—’
‘Damn it, Anna, did I not just say that I don’t want to talk about it?’
‘But you must! Your reputation as a gentleman is at stake, don’t you understand?’
‘What I understand is that a man’s private business is not his own,’ he snapped. ‘Do you know why I jumped at the chance to come to London? Because I was tired of having to listen to my father’s sanctimonious preaching. Of being told what I could and could not do. I thought that by coming here, I would finally be able to lead my own life. Yet now I find that every move I make is watched and criticised by people I don’t know, and that even you and your father have no qualms about intruding into something that is none of your business.’
‘None of our business?’ Anna repeated in astonishment. ‘How can you say that? You are my father’s godson. We care about you.’
He had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘I’m not saying you don’t.’
‘Then why are you being so defensive? I know you didn’t have an affair with Lady Yew,’ Anna said. ‘For one thing, she’s already married. For another, she must be at least fifteen years older than you.’
‘Since when did either of those things matter to the fine, upstanding members of society?’ Peregrine shot back. ‘Half of London seems to be involved with people other than their wives or husbands. Why should Susan and I be any different?’
‘Susan?’ Anna interrupted, shocked. ‘You call her Susan?’
‘Yes.’ He raised his chin in defiance. ‘What else would one call a good friend?’
‘Given that she happens to be someone else’s wife, I would have thought Lady Yew the more appropriate form of address,’ Anna said, concern lending an edge to her voice.
‘You’re being stuffy, Anna. I didn’t do anything wrong,’ Peregrine said. ‘She gave me leave to speak to her in such a manner.’
‘Really? And what else did she give you leave to do?’
The tips of Peregrine’s ears flamed red. ‘Nothing.’ But when he refused to meet her eyes and began fidgeting with his crop, Anna knew he was lying to her—and she felt the foundations of her world tremble.
So, it was all a lie. Peregrine was involved with Lady Yew. Worse, he was in love with her. He’d given himself away when he’d spoken her name. His mouth had quivered and his eyes had softened, the way a person’s always did when they referred to the man or the woman they cared about deeply.
And she, stupidly, had believed him. She had defended him to both her father and to Sir Barrington Parker, a man she had charged with making a false accusation, when all the while it was Peregrine who had been telling lies.
Needing to regain a measure of calm, Anna turned her back on him, clenching her fists at her side. ‘Since you obviously did not see fit to inform my father of the truth last night, I will have it now,’ she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. ‘Are you having an affair with the Marchioness of Yew?’
‘Anna, please!’
‘Don’t Anna me! I want the truth, Peregrine. People’s reputations are at stake here. Mine included.’
‘Nonsense! This doesn’t concern you!’
She whirled to face him. ‘Of course it concerns me! I spoke up on your behalf,’ she cried. ‘I defended you to someone who was ready to think the worst of you. And I refused to believe them when they told me what you were supposedly guilty of.’
Footsteps on the stairs alerted Anna to the fact that they were standing in a place where anyone might hear them, prompting her to grab Peregrine’s arm and pull him into the drawing room. ‘Furthermore,’ she said, closing the door behind them, ‘I assured Father and this … other gentleman that you couldn’t possibly have been guilty of having an affair with Lady Yew because you didn’t even know her.’
‘But I did know her,’ Peregrine admitted.
‘How? I didn’t introduce the two of you.’
‘No. Edward did.’
‘Edward?’ Anna repeated, confused. ‘But … when were the two of you ever at a society function together?’
‘It wasn’t at a society function we met.’ Peregrine ran his fingers through his hair, hopelessly dishevelling it. ‘Edward had been on at me, saying that if I had any hopes of becoming a gentleman, I needed to educate myself in gentlemanly ways.
That meant knowing how to shoot, how to ride and how to fence. Since I’m already a good rider and I can handle a gun, that only left fencing, a sport to which I’ve had absolutely no exposure. Edward offered to take me to Angelo’s and I met the Marquess of Yew there.’
‘That doesn’t explain how you met his wife,’ Anna pointed out.
‘She was waiting for him outside in their carriage,’ Peregrine said. ‘Edward pointed her out to me when we arrived. When I commented on how beautiful she was, he kindly offered to introduce us.’
Kindly? Anna doubted her brother had ever had a kind thought in his head when it came to Peregrine. ‘All right, so you were introduced. If you knew Lady Yew was married, why did you pursue her?’
‘Because on the way home after the match, Edward told me about their marriage. He said it was a loveless union and that Lady Yew was desperately unhappy because Yew paraded his mistresses right under her nose and didn’t give a damn as to what she thought.’
‘Be that as it may, she is his wife and you were wrong to interfere.’
‘But she doesn’t love him!’ Peregrine said, his voice rising. ‘She told me that what she feels for me is the most wonderful, the most exciting feeling she’s ever experienced, and that when we finally are able to be together—’
‘Together?’ Anna interrupted incredulously. ‘Are you telling me that Lady Yew said she was going to leave her husband?’
‘Not in so many words, but—’
‘Don’t play games with me, Peregrine. Did she or did she not say that she was going to leave her husband?’
‘Not exactly, but—’
‘So she made you no promises that she would run away with you,’ she said flatly.
‘Well, no, but—’
‘There are no buts, Peregrine. Lady Yew has been playing with you.’
‘She wouldn’t do that!’ he said hotly. ‘You don’t understand how it is between us! She loves me!’
‘Love? I doubt the woman knows the meaning of the word,’ Anna said dismissively. ‘In fact, I can give you the names of at least ten other young men with whom she claims to be in love. Men with whom she has flirted and danced and driven nearly insane with jealousy. It’s what she does.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ Peregrine said, stubbornly clinging to his beliefs. ‘She said nothing to me about other men. And even if there were, it doesn’t signify. What she felt for them could be nothing compared to what she feels for me. She said she’s never met anyone like me before.’
Anna sat down, aware that Peregrine was no more educated in the ways of love than poor Mercy Banks. ‘I’m sorry, Peregrine, but Lady Yew is not going to run away with you. Her husband is one of the richest men in England. He owns properties in four counties and his personal worth is staggering. As his wife, Lady Yew is one of the most influential women in society. If you think she would risk throwing that all away to run off with the penniless godson of the Earl of Cambermere, I would advise you to think again.’
‘But Edward said—’
‘I don’t care what Edward said,’ Anna said, though she damn well did care and she intended to talk to her brother at the first opportunity. ‘Tradition is the foundation upon which society is built. Noble families marry into noble families, thereby ensuring that the tradition carries on. Casting discretion to the wind and haring off because you believe yourself in love with someone else’s husband or wife is destructive to the fabric of society—and nobody knows that better than those who occupy its uppermost rungs. I’m sorry, Peregrine, but the kindest thing you can do for yourself is to get over this as quickly as possible and then move on with your life.’
Anna knew it was a sobering speech, but she also knew it was one Peregrine needed to hear. He had to understand that his hopes were futile, that whatever dreams he harboured were as insubstantial as fairy dust.
‘But I love her,’ he whispered, misery inflecting every word. ‘How am I supposed to get over that? I’ve never felt this way about a woman before.’
‘You get over it by waking up each day and telling yourself that she is married to a man who will never divorce her … even if she wished him to.’
Anna said the words as gently as she could, but she still saw Peregrine wince and felt her heart go out to him. It was never easy hearing that the person you loved didn’t love you in return. In fact, finding out that you were little more than a source of amusement, whether it be for an hour or a day, or even a year, was the most devastating thing imaginable. It destroyed your confidence and tore at the very foundation of who you were.
Having been through it, Anna knew exactly how injurious it was to one’s sense of well-being.
For a few minutes, Peregrine just sat there, his brow furrowed, his eyes bleak with despair as he struggled to come to terms with everything she had told him. It was hard waking up from a dream, but he had been indulging in an impossible fantasy; for his own good, Anna knew he had to come back to reality.
He finally stood up and slowly began to walk around the room. ‘Part of my reason for staying out last night,’ he said slowly, ‘was because I was embarrassed. I never expected your father to find out what was going on. I thought it was just between Sus—between Lady Yew and myself.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you did,’ Anna said. ‘But while London might seem like a big city, never forget that there are eyes and ears everywhere. When you play with fire, you will eventually get burned.’
‘I know, but you never really believe that. It’s as though you’re living in a bubble. You can see out, but no one can see in. But, of course, everyone can.’ Peregrine dropped his head and breathed a long, deep sigh. ‘Your father thought it would be a good idea if I were to … write a letter to Lord Yew, apologising for my behaviour. He said that if I promised not to see Lady Yew again, it might … smooth things over with him.’ He raised his head. ‘Do you think he’s right?’
Aware that it was Sir Barrington Parker who had suggested writing the letter, Anna simply inclined her head. ‘I think the letter a good idea, yes. With luck, it will set the marquess’s mind to rest and persuade him to let the matter go. Because if he takes it into his head to persecute you, Peregrine, there will be no future for you in London.’
Peregrine nodded, and for a full five minutes he was silent, reviewing his options. Then, as if realising he had none, he said finally, ‘Very well. I shall write the letter. But I’ll give it to you, rather than to your father. I don’t think he ever wants to see me again.’
‘Don’t be a goose, of course he wants to see you.’
‘You weren’t there,’ Peregrine said ruefully. ‘You didn’t see the look on his face. Why do you think I lied to him, Anna? God knows I didn’t want to. But when I saw how disappointed he was at even having to ask me if I was involved with Lady Yew, I knew I couldn’t tell him the truth. So I lied. That’s why I couldn’t stay here last night,’ Peregrine admitted. ‘I was too ashamed to sleep under the same roof as him. He’s been so good to me. I couldn’t bear to repay him like this.’
‘Oh, Peregrine,’ Anna whispered. ‘If Father was disappointed, it was only because he cares about you and wants you to do well in London. He knows how harsh society can be towards those who flaunt its rules.’
‘Then society is a hypocrite!’ Peregrine cried. ‘I’m not the only man involved with a married woman. There are countless other such affairs going on and everyone knows it!’
‘Yes, and they are tolerated as long as they are conducted discreetly and with neither party voicing an objection,’ Anna told him. ‘But for whatever reason, Lord Yew has chosen to object to the liaison and, as a gentleman, you have no choice but to withdraw.’
The gravity of her words must have penetrated his romantic haze, because for the first time Peregrine seemed to appreciate the magnitude of what he had done. He glanced down at his boots, his mouth working. ‘Very well. I shall go for my ride as planned and while I am out I shall think about what I wish to say. Then, I shall come back and write a letter of apology to Lord Yew.’
Anna did a quick mental calculation. Sir Barrington had said he was meeting with the marquess at two. There wasn’t a hope Peregrine would be back from his ride in time to have the letter finished and delivered by then, which meant she had no choice but to send word to Sir Barrington herself.
‘Peregrine. Have I your word that you will stop seeing Lady Yew, that you will say as much in your letter to Lord Yew?’
Peregrine frowned. ‘Have I not just said I would?’
‘Yes, but I need to be very clear as to your intentions.’
‘From where I stand, I don’t think I have any choice.’
‘Fine. Then off you go on your ride,’ Anna said. ‘I’ll see you at dinner.’
‘Not tonight.’ Peregrine got up and slowly walked towards the door. ‘Edward said he would be dining at home this evening and I have no intention of sitting at the same table and letting him humiliate me any further in front of your father.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘Because I was foolish enough to confide my feelings for Lady Yew to him.’ Peregrine looked at her and sighed. ‘He knew exactly how I felt—and he said nothing at all about it being a hopeless quest.’
Anna needed no further explanation. How could she explain that it was just her brother being himself? ‘I’m sorry, Peregrine. Really, I am. And I know how hard it is not to be with the person you love, but there will be others. You have only to open your heart and let love find you.’
His mouth twisted. ‘I’ve been open to love a long time, Anna, but this is the first time it’s come anywhere close to finding me. Infatuation is one thing, but true love doesn’t come along every day.’
No, it did not, Anna reflected as she sat down to write the letter to Sir Barrington. True love was elusive: as fragile as a sigh, as mysterious as the night. It inspired placid gentlemen to write romantic poetry and sensible young women to lose themselves in dreams. For those lucky enough to find it, love could be a life-altering experience.
But falling in love could also be a painful and humiliating experience, one that shattered a person’s belief in their own self-worth and that was best forgotten as quickly as possible. Her brief, ill-fated liaison with the Honourable Anthony Colder was a prime example of that, as was poor Peregrine’s misplaced affection for Lady Yew. If anyone needed proof of the destructive power of love, they need look no further than that.
Lady Annabelle’s note arrived well in advance of Lord Yew’s visit and while Barrington was relieved that a solution had been found, her words did not make him feel better. Not when he knew what it had cost her to write them.
Sir Barrington,
As time is of the essence and Mr Rand is otherwise occupied, I thought it best to send word of his intentions as quickly as possible. I have been informed that he is indeed guilty of having an affair with the lady in question; however, he has assured me that he intends to end the relationship and that he is willing to confirm the same in a letter addressed to her husband. I hope you will convey these sentiments to the gentleman and that he will find it a satisfactory resolution to the problem.
Neither my father nor Mr Rand has been made aware of this correspondence and I would prefer that it remain that way. As one who has been accused of ‘involving herself in the convoluted lives of others’, I think it the wisest course of action.
It was simply signed ‘Annabelle Durst’ in a clear and legible hand.
So, Mr Peregrine Rand had been unable to maintain his lies in the face of the lady’s questioning. Good—because there was no doubt in Barrington’s mind that Annabelle had questioned him. Profess to believe him she might, but she had still needed to hear from his own lips that he was innocent of the charge and that the rumours were not true.
How devastated she must have been to find out that they were … and how difficult for her to write this note. She had believed wholeheartedly in the young man’s innocence, put trust in her intuition when it came to what he would and would not do—only to discover that her intuition was not strong enough to stand up against the wishes and desires of his own heart. Disillusionment was always a bitter pill to swallow.
He glanced again at the parchment in his hand. Closing his eyes, he raised it to his nose and gently inhaled. Yes, it was still there … a lingering trace of her fragrance, the scent sweet but sensually provocative. An echo of the lady herself. He set the parchment down and walked slowly towards the long window, his mind filled with thoughts of Anna.
It was a long time since a woman had affected him to this degree. Indeed, he wasn’t sure one ever had. For the most part, he’d always believed aristocratic ladies to be like exotic birds: lovely to look at, but troublesome to own. They strutted around society’s stage like the fragile, inconsequential creatures they were, generally offering nothing of substance beyond the ability to play the piano or paint pretty pictures. It was the reason he had found commitment so easy to avoid.
But Lady Annabelle was neither fragile nor inconsequential. She was intelligent. Passionate. The quintessential lady and beautiful beyond all. But beauty without soul had never appealed to him, and it was because she cared so much about other people that Barrington found himself so strongly attracted to her. She cared about Mercy Banks and the host of other silly young women who needed her help in extricating themselves from situations that could have ruined them. She cared about her country visitor, who might well be her half-brother, and about her father, who, with typical male arrogance, was ready to dismiss everything she said. Yes, admirable indeed was the Lady Annabelle Durst. A lady worth getting to know.
And yet, as a result of what had passed between them, Barrington doubted a deeper acquaintance was possible. In his hand, he held her acknowledgement that she had been wrong, and he right. That was the first strike against him. He had proven everything she had most desperately wanted not to believe. She had stood up for a man who hadn’t deserved her loyalty, and she had been let down. Matters would never be easy between them now.
Still, now that he knew the truth about Rand, he would do everything he could to mitigate Lord Yew’s anger and to settle the matter as humanely as possible. As for Rand, if he truly believed himself in love with Lady Yew, he was already suffering enough by having found out what she was really like. No point making it worse by dragging his name through the mud, and by association, the beautiful Lady Anna’s.
The note Anna received from Sir Barrington later that afternoon was brief, but reassuring.
Your note was well timed. I met with Lord Yew, and after being assured of Mr Rand’s willingness to see the error of his ways, the marquess is willing to let the matter go. He will settle for a letter and a promise of restraint on Mr Rand’s part and shall consider the matter closed. I have not written to your father. I leave it to you to inform him of the outcome, and Mr Rand. I remain,
Your most humble servant
B.
Anna folded the letter and tapped it against her chin. So, the matter was resolved. The Marquess of Yew had been informed as to the identity of the guilty party and had been willing to accept an olive branch in the form of a promise and a written apology. Sir Barrington had handled the matter admirably. As long as the marquess honoured his word, Peregrine would be free to go about London without the finger of blame being pointed at him at every turn.
Just as well, since Anna was quite sure he would have bolted had such been the case.
Unfortunately, as she set out for her afternoon visit to the Baroness von Brohm, Anna realised that the entire affair had left a bad taste in her mouth. Not only were her feelings towards Peregrine affected by what she had learned, but her brief acquaintance with Sir Barrington Parker had been tainted by the events they had both unwittingly been drawn into. She had insinuated that he hadn’t known his business, accused him of misjudgement and gloated when she’d believed him wrong. She owed him an apology.
But was he the type of man to whom apologising was easy? She remembered the way he had teased her over her steadfast belief in Peregrine’s innocence, mocking her belief in the man’s inability to tell lies. Would he be condescending of her apology now? Had he been waiting for just such a moment to say, ‘I told you so’? Anna hated to think of him as being deliberately cruel, but, not knowing the nature of the man, she had little else to go on.
She was not at all surprised that thoughts of him occupied her fully during the carriage ride to Mayfair.
Julia von Brohm was not what Anna had been expecting. Thinking to see a pale, unhappy woman in her mid-forties wearing the unrelieved black of a widow still in mourning for her husband, Anna was surprised to be greeted by a slender and very attractive woman of no more than thirty, garbed in a stunning gown of rich burgundy satin. Her honey-brown hair was arranged in a simple but elegant chignon at the nape of her neck, and her eyes were a clear, bright blue that appeared even brighter against the translucent whiteness of her skin.
‘Lady Annabelle,’ the baroness said, extending both hands in greeting. ‘I cannot tell you how pleased I was to receive your note.’
‘And likewise, how pleased I was to receive your acceptance,’ Anna said. ‘I regret that my good friend, Lady Lydia Winston, was unable to come, but her mother was taken to bed with a terrible head pain and required her assistance.’
The baroness’s pretty face softened in sympathy. ‘Poor lady. Having had a mother-in-law who suffered with megrims, I know the role a daughter must play. But I am so pleased that you were brave enough to come on your own.’
Anna tilted her head to one side. ‘Brave?’
‘Come now, Lady Annabella. You must surely have heard the rumours—that I am a lonely widow who cannot stop crying for her late husband. That I am a beautiful woman whose company must be endured, but not enjoyed.’
The smile came easily to Anna’s lips. ‘I knew you were a widow, Baroness, and I assumed that you would be lonely. But I certainly did not hear that you were dismal company or someone to be avoided. And even if I had, I would have come anyway and drawn my own conclusions.’
‘I am very glad to hear it,’ the baroness said in her charmingly accented voice. ‘And I think that you and I are going to become good friends. Ah, Smith,’ she said to the young maid who appeared in the doorway. ‘We shall have tea and a plate of pastries. Cook would be most upset if we did not offer our guest a sampling of her wares.’
As the maid curtsied and withdrew, the baroness turned back to Anna. ‘I hired most of the staff upon my arrival, but dear Frau Hildenbaum has been with my family since I was a girl. She insisted on coming to London with me and when she heard I was having an English lady to tea, she set to work. She has been baking since early this morning.’
‘How delightful, for I confess to a definite weakness for pastries,’ Anna said as she sat down on a comfortable sofa across from the baroness. The room was quite beautiful, the walls papered in pale blue and gold silk, the shades of which were reflected in the carpet and furnishings. An exquisite medieval tapestry was suspended from a brass rod between the two long windows that gave view over the square below, and numerous other works of art adorned the walls. The baroness either had exceptional taste or the good fortune to have ancestors who did.
Even more stunning was her jewellery. Anna’s eyes were repeatedly drawn to the brooch pinned to the bodice of her gown. It was shaped like a flower, with a single piece of amber in the centre and with petals made up of diamonds and rubies.
‘You are admiring my brooch?’ the baroness asked during a lull in the conversation.
Anna looked up, embarrassed to have been caught staring. ‘Yes. Forgive me, but it is so beautiful.’
‘My late husband gave it to me for my twenty-first birthday.’ The baroness’s face glowed. ‘Ulrich spent a lot of time travelling and often came home with little trinkets like this. He had exceptional taste.’
‘Baroness—’
‘Please, won’t you call me Julia?’ she interrupted gently. ‘I have no wish to be so formal with you.’
‘Then you must call me Anna. And I was about to say that your husband must have loved you very much to have given you such an exquisite gift.’
As soon as the words left her lips, Anna regretted having uttered them. She had no wish to invoke unhappy memories for Julia and she feared that mentioning her late husband in such a way might be all that was required to bring them on. But apart from a delicate flush, Julia remained admirably in control of her emotions. ‘He did love me. Ours was a true love match. Not common in our world, I suppose, but I was more fortunate than most.’
‘So it wasn’t an arranged marriage.’
‘Oh, yes, but Ulrich and I fell in love shortly after we were introduced. That probably sounds ridiculous, but it is the truth.’
‘I think you were indeed incredibly fortunate,’ Anna said. ‘I know of so many marriages that are arranged for the benefit of the parties involved and end up being the most dismal of relationships. That is why I always prefer to see marriages based on love. Have you any children, Bar—Julia?’
Where the mention of her husband had not brought tears to her eyes, the mention of children did. ‘Sadly, no. Ulrich and I were not able to conceive a child together. Perhaps if we’d had more time—’
When Julia broke off, Anna leaned over to place her hand over the other woman’s. ‘I am so sorry for your loss, Julia,’ she said gently, ‘but you are young enough to marry again and to bear many healthy children.’
Julia nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. ‘I would like to think so, but if the difficulty in conceiving lies with me, it will not matter who I marry. I know that will serve as a deterrent to certain gentlemen.’
‘Only those looking to set up a nursery,’ Anna said, seeing no point in not stating the obvious. ‘If we are being practical, there are many older gentlemen who would be happy to offer you marriage without children being a condition.’
‘You are kind to say so, Anna, but, in truth, I do not long for a husband. The memory of Ulrich is enough.’
‘But memories won’t keep you warm at night and you are far too beautiful to spend the rest of your life alone,’ Anna pointed out. ‘You must get out in society and start mingling again.’
‘I would like that,’ Julia admitted, ‘but in the three weeks I’ve been here, I have not received a single invitation.’
‘Then we must start the ball rolling.’ Anna smiled, convinced more than ever that she had done the right thing in coming to visit the baroness. She pulled an invitation from her reticule and handed it to Julia. ‘This is from the Countess of Bessmel. It is an invitation to a soirée at her home the evening after next.’
‘An invitation!’ Barely managing to conceal her delight, Julia broke the seal and unfolded the invitation. ‘But we have never met.’
‘I know, but I chanced to be at a breakfast with the countess the other morning and told her I intended paying a call on you. She said she was planning to do the same, but that the pain in her legs was preventing her from getting around. That’s when she asked if I would be good enough to deliver the invitation to you and to say how much she hopes you will attend.’
Julia read the invitation again and her smile brightened immeasurably. ‘This is … so very good of you, Anna. And of Lady Bessmel, of course. I will write at once to accept.’
‘Excellent, because she is looking forward to meeting you,’ Anna said. ‘Lady Lydia will also be there, and with three such highly placed ladies at your side, you can be assured that the rest of society will take notice.’
Julia’s smile was as radiant as the diamonds pinned to her breast. ‘Thank you, Anna. I feel better simply for having met you. And perhaps before you leave, you would like to see some of my other jewellery? I can assure you that a few of the pieces make this brooch look quite plain.’
Chapter Five (#ulink_3907e005-97d0-5a1a-8c51-23b8aab2d880)
Though Barrington did not make a habit of attending all of the society functions to which he was invited, he recognised the wisdom of dropping in on certain, select events. Dark alleys and gentlemen’s clubs were all very well, but he had learned long ago that most of the truly useful gossip was to be overheard in the drawings rooms and ballrooms of society. And given that Lady Bessmel was acknowledged to be one of the finest gossips in London, the thought of missing an event at her magnificent Park Lane mansion was tantamount to professional suicide. Now, as Barrington stood opposite the entrance to the grand ballroom, watching the parade of swirling dancers make their way around the room, he wondered how many darkly held secrets would be exposed tonight.
A quick sweep of the room revealed the usual attendees: blue-blooded aristocrats with their equally blue-blooded wives, a smattering of officers and politicians, some in the present government, some casualties of the last, as well as the miscellaneous collection of ladies and gentlemen who, though not titled, were well born enough to receive the much-coveted invitations. Colonel Tanner was standing at the far side of the room with his pale little wife, but, other than a brief nod in Barrington’s direction, betrayed no sign of having seen him.
Barrington allowed his gaze to move on. He was used to being ignored by those for whom he worked, if one wished to call it that. It was a hazard—or a blessing—of the job, depending on how one looked at it.
Then, suddenly, there was a commotion as three ladies entered together. Lady Annabelle Durst, magnificent in lilac silk, Lady Lydia Winston, lovely in shimmering green, and a third, slightly older but equally striking woman with whom Barrington was not acquainted. She wore an elegant silver-grey gown, long white gloves and a diamond necklace that could have fed London’s poor for a year. And when he heard whispers in the crowd and realised that most of Lady Bessmel’s guests didn’t know who the lady was, he put the pieces together. This must surely be the mysterious Baroness Julia von Brohm.
More importantly, however, it was also the first time he had seen Anna since the arrival of her note acknowledging Peregrine’s guilt. How would she receive him? With haughty indifference or grudging acceptance?
Knowing that the question had to be asked, he crossed the room to where she stood and bowed in front of the three ladies. ‘Good evening, Lady Lydia. Lady Annabelle.’
‘Why, good evening, Sir Barrington,’ Lady Lydia said with unaffected pleasure. ‘How nice to see you again. I thought perhaps you had been in hiding, we have seen so little of you.’
‘Alas, I have been kept busy with work,’ Barrington said, conscious of Anna’s eyes on him.
‘Yes, so I understand,’ Lady Lydia’s eyes sparkled with mischief. ‘I happened to bump into your sister at Hatchard’s the other day. She said you haven’t been round for a visit since the occasion of her last dinner party.’
Barrington’s mouth twisted, remembering his less-than-memorable meeting with Lady Alice Stokes, a pleasant woman with whom he’d had absolutely nothing in common. ‘I will go round and see Jenny this week. And apologise,’ he added with a rueful smile. Then, bowing towards Anna, said, ‘I trust all is well at home, Lady Annabelle?’
‘Yes, thank you, Sir Barrington.’ Her expression was tranquil, but Barrington thought he detected a quiver in her voice. Surely she wasn’t nervous about seeing him again?
‘And Mr Rand?’ he asked.
‘He is doing as well as can be expected, under the circumstances,’ she said quietly. Her hair was drawn softly off her face and caught up with a cluster of deep pink roses. Barrington thought she had never looked lovelier. ‘Are you acquainted with Baroness von Brohm?’ she asked, adroitly changing the subject.
‘I am not,’ Barrington said, turning towards the third lady, who was watching him with undisguised interest. ‘I was hoping I might prevail upon one of you to make the introduction?’
‘With pleasure. Baroness, may I present Sir Barrington Parker,’ Anna said smoothly. ‘Sir Barrington—Baroness Julia von Brohm.’
The lady regally inclined her head. ‘Sir Barrington.’
‘Baroness.’ Barrington bowed over her hand. ‘I’m surprised it has taken this long for us to meet, given that word of your arrival has been swirling for weeks.’
‘There has been a great deal to do and I have kept much to myself,’ the baroness admitted. ‘But Lady Annabelle felt it was time to make my appearance in society and I am grateful to her and Lady Bessmel for their kindness in making it happen.’
‘We decided to take Julia under our wing,’ Anna explained. ‘I’m sure you won’t find that surprising, given what you know of me.’
Barrington wasn’t sure if she was taking him to task, but when he saw the twinkle in her eye, he allowed himself to hope that the remark intended nothing of the sort. ‘Yet another convoluted life exercise?’ he ventured.
He was relieved to see her smile, and for the first time since the arrival of her note, he felt himself breathe properly again.
‘Ah, Parker, good evening,’ Lord Cambermere said, joining them. ‘Might have known I’d find you hoarding the three most beautiful women in the room.’
‘On the contrary, having only just made the baroness’s acquaintance, I cannot be accused of hoarding. Especially since the other two ladies are as well known to you as they are to me.’
‘Julia, allow me to introduce my father, Lord Cambermere,’ Anna said with a smile. ‘Papa, Baroness von Brohm.’
The earl’s gaze sharpened, a man appreciating the beauty of a woman. ‘I had heard of your arrival, Baroness, and am compelled to say that Vienna’s loss is our gain. I trust you are enjoying life in London?’
‘To be honest, I have experienced very little of it, Lord Cambermere,’ the baroness replied. ‘As I told your daughter, I have been busy setting up my household. There has not been much time for sightseeing or socialising.’
‘But now that Julia is finished with all that, I have assured her that we shall be seeing a great deal more of her in society,’ Anna said. ‘Tonight is her début, if you will.’
‘And a splendid début it is,’ the earl said quietly. ‘Would you allow me to introduce you to a few of my friends, Baroness? Having seen me in conversation with you, they will not forgive me if I neglect to do so.’
Barrington saw the look of pleasure that warmed the baroness’s face, but also noticed the look of startled surprise on Anna’s. Obviously she wasn’t used to her widowed father paying court to a beautiful woman, especially one who was also so recently widowed. But, true to form, she recovered with swiftness and grace. ‘Yes, do go, Julia. Papa knows everyone and he is perfectly respectable. Just don’t start him talking about horses.’
‘Oh, but I love horses!’ the Baroness was quick to say. ‘My late husband’s stable was one of the finest in Vienna.’
‘Good Lord,’ the earl said, leaning forwards. ‘Never tell me that your late husband was Captain Baron Ulrich von Brohm?’
A soft gasp escaped the baroness. ‘Yes. Did you know him?’
‘I most certainly knew of him. I read several of his papers on early equine development and thought his ideas were nothing short of brilliant.’ The earl offered the lady his arm. ‘I would be honoured to have a chance to speak to you about him.’
As an opening gambit, it couldn’t have been better. Barrington watched the baroness place her gloved hand on Cambermere’s sleeve, aware that her eyes were bright with interest as they rested on his face. They were already talking about horses as he led her away, prompting Barrington to wonder how many of the earl’s friends were likely to be introduced to the beautiful baroness that evening.
‘I think you have a success on your hands, Anna,’ Lady Lydia whispered. ‘If everyone else is as taken with the baroness as your father, we will surely see her married before the end of the Season!’
Barrington tended to echo Lady Lydia’s assessment, though he wondered how Anna felt at having her father’s affection for the woman so bluntly stated. It wasn’t always easy for daughters to accept a new woman into their father’s life, especially daughters who still lived at home. The arrival of a stepmother could make their lives hellish. Still, given the friendship that seemed to exist between Anna and the baroness, Barrington doubted that would be the case here.
‘Sir Barrington,’ she said suddenly, breaking into his thoughts, ‘I wonder if I might have a word with you? In private.’
He turned to find her sapphire gaze fixed on him. ‘By all means.’
‘Then I shall go and speak to Lady Bessmel,’ Lady Lydia said promptly. ‘She mentioned having received news of her son in Scotland and I have been longing to hear how Thomas goes on. I shall catch up with you later, Anna. Good evening, Sir Barrington.’
Barrington inclined his head, but he noticed that Anna waited until her friend was far enough away so as not to hear their conversation before turning to him and saying, ‘I hoped I would have a chance to speak to you this evening, Sir Barrington. I’m sure we both recognise that I owe you an apology with regard to Peregrine.’
Barrington studied the face upturned to his, aware that it exposed far more than she realised. ‘You owe me nothing, Lady Annabelle. I took no pleasure in being the bearer of bad news.’
‘Nevertheless, I accused you of dealing in false information and that was a criticism of your professional conduct. For that, an apology must be offered.’
‘Must be?’ he repeated. ‘Am I to conclude that you do not wish to apologise?’
Her gaze clouded over, a tiny frown appearing between her brows. ‘Please don’t misunderstand. If I appear reluctant to admit my error, it is only because it has caused me to question things about myself that I’ve not had reason to question before. I thought I knew Peregrine better than anyone. Certainly better than you. And I believed I was right in defending him when you first charged him with the affair. But, as it turns out, I really didn’t know him at all. I was convinced he would never do something so foolish as to engage in an affair, yet that’s exactly what he did.’
‘But you and I both know that Mr Rand is not the first man to catch Lady Yew’s eye, nor will he be the last,’ Barrington said. ‘She is the type of a woman who needs constant attention. Sadly, he is just the latest on a very long list of conquests.’
‘I know, but that doesn’t make it any better,’ Anna said ruefully. ‘And it certainly doesn’t excuse what he did.’
‘Love makes its own excuses. It has ever been thus.’
‘Perhaps, but what disturbs me the most is that he truly believed she loved him.’
‘He will get over it,’ Barrington said with a smile. ‘He is a young man and all young men must fall in love with at least one unsuitable woman in their life. It is a rite of passage. Useful in teaching us what to watch out for when we do finally go looking for a wife.’
Her smile was a reluctant twisting of her lips. ‘I wish I could be as convinced of that as you, but when I see him suffering …’
‘Women pine for love not found while men suffer from love already lost. It is our Achilles’ heel, if you will. And for what it’s worth, I suspect Rand was more in love with the idea of being in love than he was with the actual act of loving,’ Barrington said, hoping to ease her guilt. ‘By all accounts, he liked to read to her and she enjoyed listening to him.’
He saw a tiny smile lift the corners of her mouth. ‘Peregrine has a lovely speaking voice. Not as mellifluous as yours, of course, but I expect he would have done well on the stage.’
She liked his voice. There was really no reason the compliment should have meant anything to him, but it did. Strange the things a man clung to. ‘Regardless, I think it little more than a case of boyish infatuation. Lady Yew is a beautiful woman. She was probably flattered that a good-looking man so much younger than she would find her attractive and offered more encouragement than she should.’
‘For all the good it did either of them,’ Anna said with an edge to her voice. ‘But I am sorry, Sir Barrington. You told me that collecting information was what you did and you obviously do it very well. I will not be so foolish as to doubt you again.’
Barrington inclined his head, wondering why he felt as though she was saying goodbye. ‘With luck, there will be no occasion for us to find ourselves in a situation like this again.’
Then she smiled and, with her very next words, confirmed his suspicions. ‘I suppose not. In fact, given what we know of each other, I doubt our paths will have any reason to cross again.’
As expected, the baroness’s introduction to London society was a complete success and doors that had been closed to her in the past were suddenly thrown open with abandon. Society embraced her with the fervour of a shepherd welcoming home a long-lost lamb and gentlemen flocked to her side, eager to secure favour.
Because she was seen to be such good friends with Lady Bessmel and the daughters of the Earl of Cambermere and the Marquess of Bailley, her name constantly appeared high on the list of society events, both intimate and grand. Not surprisingly, Anna’s brother and father were frequent visitors to Julia’s afternoon salons, though the earl was very careful not to do anything that might result in scandal being attached to her name. He never stayed longer than was appropriate, or tried to take up too much of her time. But it was noted and remarked upon, after several society gatherings where both were in attendance, that the widowed Earl of Cambermere was evidencing a marked partiality for the company of the beautiful Baroness von Brohm.
Naturally, Julia was delighted with all the attention, but Anna noticed that she, too, was careful not to indicate a preference for any one gentleman over another, perhaps because she was still clinging to the memory of her late husband. But she was a gracious and entertaining guest, and though her list of contacts grew by the day, she never forgot that it was Anna’s kindness that had originally launched her into society.
As such, she decided to hold a dinner party in Anna’s honour, inviting, along with the rest of her family, twenty other guests including Lord and Lady Bessmel and Lady Lydia Winston. Knowing the company would be very smart, Anna decided to wear one of her newest gowns, an elegant creation in pale gold silk, a colour that was exceedingly flattering to her fair complexion. Her hair was arranged in a loose cluster of curls with a few wisps hanging free to frame her face. Elbow-length gloves, her mother’s pearls and a light sweep of colour across her cheeks were all that were required to complete the ensemble.
Half an hour later, she stepped out of the carriage in front of Julia’s house, with her father and Edward close behind. Both looked very elegant in their black-and-white evening attire, her father especially so. Peregrine, who was still reluctant to show his face in society, had decided to remain at home.
‘Good thing, too,’ Edward said in the disparaging tone he always used when Peregrine’s name came up. ‘No point the boy thinking he’s entitled to move in good society when it’s obvious he belongs in the country.’ He plucked a strand of hair from the sleeve of his jacket. ‘Besides, he’d likely just embarrass us in front of the baroness. He does, after all, have an eye for older women.’
‘That was unkind,’ Anna said flatly. ‘You are as much to blame for Peregrine’s fall from grace as he is.’
‘I don’t see how. I wasn’t the one who jumped into bed with Lady Yew.’
‘Don’t be coarse, Edward, and please keep your voice down,’ Anna said in a fierce whisper. ‘You shouldn’t have told him about the state of their marriage.’
‘My dear Anna, there isn’t a soul in London who doesn’t know the state of the Yews’ marriage,’ Edward said blandly. ‘Why should I have left Rand in ignorance? He would have found out sooner or later. And just because I told him Lady Yew was open to lovers didn’t mean he had to go sniffing after her as though she were a bitch in season. And you needn’t look at me like that,’ he said when she turned a chilling glance on him. ‘You’re too old to pretend an ignorance of what goes on between a man and a woman. I know how besotted you were over Anthony Colder.’
Anna winced, the mere sound of the man’s name causing her pain. ‘I would thank you not to mention him in my presence again.’
‘Why not? Surely you’re not still pining over the fellow. He wasn’t worth it, you know. The stories I could tell—’
‘This conversation is over,’ Anna said coldly. ‘Please keep your opinions to yourself and refrain from making damaging comments about Peregrine in public, lest you find yourself defending rumours about your own less than sterling behaviour.’
‘My behaviour?’ Her brother’s eyes widened in a credible imitation of innocence. ‘What possible concern could you have about that?’
‘I see no need to explain myself. We are both aware of your reputation with women.’
He slowly began to smile, clearly enjoying himself. ‘And what have you heard about my reputation, pray tell?’
‘Amongst other things, that you are fickle and heartless,’ Anna said, boldly meeting his gaze. ‘We’ve gone through three maids in the last year and I suspect your unwelcome attentions towards them had much to do with the reasons they all left. If you must indulge yourself, kindly do so in a manner that does not disrupt the household or result in frightened young girls being sent back to the country in tears.’
His eyes narrowed and for a long moment he stared at her in silence. ‘Well, well, so the pretty bird has sharp talons,’ he murmured finally. ‘Who would have guessed?’
‘Guessed what?’ their father asked, joining them.
‘Nothing.’ Anna turned her back on Edward, shutting out his obnoxious comments and his condescending gaze. She knew he enjoyed goading her and most of the time she was able to rise above his petty teasing, to treat his remarks with the chilly disdain they deserved. But tonight he’d touched a nerve and, despite her best intentions, she had lashed out at him, a reaction she would no doubt come to regret. ‘We should go in. I have no desire to keep the Baroness waiting.’
They were escorted by the butler into an elegant drawing room where most of the guests had already assembled. Anna saw Lydia talking to Lord and Lady Bessmel and smiled in acknowledgement of her friend’s wave. She left her father and brother and went to join them.
‘Good evening, Lord Bessmel, Lady Bessmel,’ she greeted the older couple. ‘And, Lydia, I’m so pleased to see you. How is your mother this evening?’
‘Much better, thank heavens,’ the girl said, clearly relieved. ‘This last megrim has been very difficult for her, but the doctor gave her something that seems to be helping. But what an exquisite gown, Anna. Surely one of Madame Delors’s?’
‘I thought the occasion demanded something suitably festive.’ Anna took a deep breath and glanced around the room. She had no idea if Sir Barrington had been invited, but she found herself looking for him regardless. ‘Have you seen our hostess yet?’
‘No, but I expect she will be down shortly.’
‘Not the thing for a lady to be late for her own dinner party,’ Lord Bessmel remarked.
‘Patience, Harry,’ Lady Bessmel said, patting her husband’s arm. ‘I’m sure the baroness is simply waiting for the right moment to make her appearance. Most Europeans have a flair for the dramatic. But what lovely pearls, Annabelle. Your mother’s, if I’m not mistaken.’
‘Yes,’ Anna said, surprised that the countess would recognise them. ‘How did you know?’
‘I remember her wearing them. White or pink pearls are relatively common, but that shade of gold is quite rare.’
‘They were a gift to her from Papa,’ Anna said fondly. ‘He always said Mama had the perfect complexion for them.’
‘She did. Fortunately, so do you and they go perfectly with your gown, which I must tell you is absolutely exquisite. But look, I do believe the baroness comes.’
As expected, all eyes turned towards the door where the baroness, resplendent in sapphire satin, stood for a moment framed in the doorway. Her lovely face was wreathed in smiles, but Anna was quite sure it wasn’t her smile or her gown that caused the collective gasp of astonishment that echoed around the room, but the magnificent diamond-and-sapphire necklace that was draped around her throat.
‘Forgive me, dear friends, but a minor crisis upstairs delayed my arrival,’ she announced to her assembled guests. ‘I trust you have been attended to in my absence.’
‘We have been very well treated,’ Lord Bessmel said as the baroness joined them. ‘The important thing is that you are here now and looking quite spectacular, if you don’t mind my saying so.’
‘I don’t mind you saying so at all, Lord Bessmel,’ Julia said with a soft gurgle of laughter. ‘In fact, I am convinced it is the one thing a lady never tires of hearing. Anna, my dear,’ she said, pressing her cheek to Anna’s. ‘How beautiful you look tonight. You will most certainly rob the gentlemen of their senses. And, Lady Lydia, how delightful to see you again. I trust your mother is feeling better?’
‘She is, Julia, thank you; she is so sorry she couldn’t be here this evening. Unfortunately, noise tends to aggravate her condition.’
‘I understand,’ Julia said with a sympathetic nod. ‘Megrims are such tiresome things. You are lucky not to be afflicted.’
‘Good evening, Baroness.’
Julia turned and her smile brightened. ‘Lord Cambermere, Lord Hayle, I am so pleased you were both able to attend.’
‘An opportunity to spend time in the company of a beautiful woman should never be missed,’ Cambermere said as he brushed his lips over her hand in a courtly, old-world gesture. ‘And may I say you look magnificent this evening.’
A becoming flush rose in her cheeks. ‘You are very kind to say so.’
‘Kindness has nothing to do with it,’ the earl assured her. ‘I’m sure there isn’t a gentleman in the room who doesn’t agree with me.’
‘Fortunately, most of them come with wives,’ Edward cut in smoothly. ‘Those of us who are single definitely have the advantage this evening.’
His smile was charismatic and his words flattering. Anna saw her father’s expression falter as Edward neatly inserted himself between them, but Julia’s attention was already diverted, her head turned towards the door. ‘And here is yet another handsome gentleman come to join our group. Good evening, Sir Barrington.’
Anna hadn’t needed to hear Barrington’s name to know that he was in the room. She’d felt the atmosphere change, a subtle quickening of interest as he crossed the floor like a sleek black panther moving through the forest. She saw heads turn, watched eyes widen and flirtatious smiles disappear behind discreetly raised fans. Obviously she wasn’t the only one impressed by the width of his shoulders and the unfathomable depths of those cool grey eyes—
‘Anna!’
Hearing Lydia’s voice, Anna turned, but it wasn’t until she saw the slight widening of her friend’s eyes that she realised she had been staring. Botheration! The last thing she needed was Sir Barrington Parker mistakenly thinking she was interested in him. Or worse, infatuated by him.
Fortunately, the gentleman seemed completely unaware of her preoccupation, his attention now focused solely on his hostess. ‘Good evening, Baroness,’ he greeted her in that distinctively low, seductive voice. ‘Forgive my late arrival. I was unavoidably detained.’
‘You owe us no apologies, Sir Barrington,’ Julia said easily. ‘You are here now and that is all that matters. I believe you know everyone?’
Sir Barrington nodded, his gaze touching briefly on each of them as he paid his respects. Finally, he turned to Anna, his mouth curving in that maddeningly provocative smile. ‘Lady Annabelle.’
‘Sir Barrington,’ she said, wishing she possessed even a fraction of his composure. ‘We have not seen much of you this past while.’
‘I was out of London for a few days on business, but made sure to return in time for this evening’s gathering.’
‘And for the fencing demonstration,’ Lord Bessmel said with a wink.
Sir Barrington turned to stare at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘The fencing demonstration. The one Lord Yew asked you to put on.’
‘Forgive me, Lord Bessmel, but I am not aware I was giving a fencing demonstration. Where did you hear news of it?’
‘From Lord Hadley,’ the older man replied. ‘He said he’d heard you speaking to Lord Yew, and that you had agreed to a series of open engagements at Angelo’s.’
‘Open engagements?’ Anna repeated. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It means that every red-blooded male capable of lifting a sword will be there looking to take Parker on,’ Bessmel explained with a smile. ‘Should make for a damn good show!’
Anna glanced at Sir Barrington in bewilderment. Surely Lord Bessmel was mistaken. Sir Barrington Parker didn’t give demonstrations. Everyone knew that. And if he did choose to spar, it would be with someone of his own choosing.
Could this be the Marquess of Yew’s doing? she wondered. Had he demanded this of Sir Barrington as well as everything he had already asked of Peregrine? ‘Is this true, Sir Barrington?’ she asked in a low voice. ‘Is this what you agreed to do?’
‘Not exactly,’ he murmured. ‘What I agreed to was a private lesson with Yew’s son, pointing out areas where he might improve. I certainly said nothing about a series of engagements with anyone who felt up to sparring with me.’
‘But I fear that is what everyone is expecting,’ Bessmel said, adding hesitantly, ‘are you going to back out?’
‘Surely it cannot be called backing out when one never agreed to it in the first place,’ Lydia objected.
‘I wouldn’t have thought so,’ Sir Barrington agreed, ‘but I shall speak to Lord Yew about it when next I see him.’ Then, seemingly unconcerned, he turned his attention to their hostess again. ‘Baroness, that is an exceptionally beautiful necklace.’
‘Why, thank you, Sir Barrington.’ Julia caressed the deep blue stones with loving fingers. ‘My late husband bought it for me. He knew my partiality for sapphires.’
‘It is a remarkable piece of workmanship,’ Cambermere agreed. ‘I hope you keep it safely locked away.’
‘I haven’t thus far.’ Julia’s eyes widened. ‘Is London such a dangerous place that one need fear being robbed in one’s own home?’
‘Not as a rule, but I regret to say there have been a series of jewel thefts in London of late,’ Sir Barrington informed her. ‘I understand Lord Houghton’s home was broken into two nights ago and a number of valuable items taken.’
‘You should be on guard yourself, Cambermere,’ Bessmel said. ‘I dare say your daughter’s pearls are worth a pretty penny.’
‘They are, but I suspect to Anna, like myself, their value is far more sentimental.’ The earl turned to smile at her. ‘My wife loved pearls. She always said they drew their warmth from the one who wore them. I gave her that necklace on our wedding day.’
‘Was your wife born in June, my lord?’ Julia enquired.
Cambermere looked surprised by the question. ‘She was.’
‘Then she was fortunate to be able to wear them without tears. It is considered bad luck to give a bride pearls unless they are her birthstone.’
‘Then you must also have been born in June, Lady Annabelle,’ Sir Barrington said quietly, ‘for the pearls to glow so richly against your skin.’
Anna felt her cheeks grow warm at the subtle caress in his voice. ‘On the contrary, my birthday is in September.’
‘Then, like the baroness, you should be wearing sapphires.’
‘I say, Cambermere, these women could bankrupt us if they were of a mind to!’ Lord Bessmel said with a hearty laugh. ‘Now you will have to go out and buy your daughter a string of sapphires, just to appease the superstitious amongst us.’
‘I think not,’ Anna said quickly. ‘Sapphires are beautiful stones, but, like Mama, I prefer the warmth of pearls.’
‘I can understand why,’ Sir Barrington said as the others turned away to chat amongst themselves. ‘They are exceptional, as is the lady wearing them.’
Anna slowly raised her eyes to his face, aware of the fire in his eyes as his gaze lingered on her necklace. The low décolleté of the gown exposed far more skin than she was used to and she could almost feel the heat of his eyes burning her. When he finally raised his eyes to meet hers, the desire in them was plain. Was it any wonder her heart was beating double time?
Thankfully, Julia, catching the eye of her butler, said, ‘Dear guests, shall we proceed to the dining room? I do believe dinner is served.’
Chapter Six (#ulink_7624a40b-568f-512f-baf6-e44a7eab76e6)
At the conclusion of an exceptional meal, the baroness led the ladies into the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to enjoy masculine conversation, good cigars and several fine bottles of port. Barrington, who enjoyed these sessions more for the information they provided than for the chance to socialise, accepted the offer of a light from Viscount Hayle, who settled into the chair next to his. Noticing the man’s obvious boredom, Barrington said, ‘Is the evening not to your liking, Hayle?’
Hayle slanted him a mocking glance. ‘I get tired of listening to men like Bessmel and Richards bickering over political situations about which they know nothing. It’s a waste of everyone’s time and, frankly, I’d rather spend the night gambling or in the arms of a mistress.’
Barrington drew on his cigar, taking a moment to study the other man through the rising curl of smoke. ‘I’m surprised Mr Rand didn’t come with you tonight. I thought he usually accompanied your sister to these kinds of events.’
‘He was invited but, thankfully, he declined,’ Hayle said tersely. ‘It’s bad enough having him around the house all the time, let alone being forced into society with him.’
‘You do not care for Mr Rand?’
‘Would you?’ Hayle fired back.
Barrington was startled by the flash of raw emotion he saw in the other man’s eyes and wondered if Hayle knew how much of himself he had given away. ‘I’m not sure I know what you mean.’
‘Then you’re the only one who doesn’t,’ Hayle muttered. ‘All you have to do is look at Rand to know he’s no more my father’s godson than he is the bloody Prince of Wales’s.’
So, that was it. The son suspected the connection and wasn’t in the least happy about it. Barrington tapped ash from the end of his cigar. ‘I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t heard rumours, but I don’t believe anything’s been substantiated.’
‘Of course not. My father’s the only one who can substantiate rumours like that and you can be damn sure he’s not going to. Not now that he’s met the baroness.’ Hayle’s eyes narrowed as he glared at his father sitting farther up the table. ‘It’s embarrassing the way he carries on with her. God knows, he’s old enough to be her father.’
‘I take it you do not care for the fact that the earl and the baroness seem to like one another?’
‘I do not. It’s unseemly the way he follows her around, hanging on every word she says. He might just as well come out and ask her to go to bed with him.’
Barrington reached for his glass of port, intrigued by the depth of vitriol pouring from the other man. ‘I think you judge them too harshly. Your father is an amiable gentleman and the baroness is an exceedingly gracious woman. And as they are both widowed, why should they not enjoy one another’s company?’
‘There is a considerable difference in their ages.’
Barrington shrugged. ‘The baroness can’t be any more than twenty-nine or thirty, and your father is, what … in his late forties? There are far wider gaps in age between husbands and wives in society.’
Hayle slowly began to smile. ‘Yes. Like Lord Yew and his wife. But then, I suspect you already know all about that.’
Barrington inhaled deeply on his cigar. Hayle was bound to know about Peregrine’s folly, but he was damned if he’d be the one to shed any light on the matter. When it came to secrets, he was as adept at keeping them as he was at prying them out of others.
Fortunately, Hayle didn’t appear to be in need of an answer. ‘How much do you think that sapphire necklace is worth?’ he asked instead.
Barrington’s shrug was carefully non-committal. ‘I’m no expert, but, given the size and quality of the stones, I should think it considerable.’
‘Enough to keep a man in brandy and cigars for the rest of his life, I’ll wager.’
‘Probably. How fortunate that you and I need not worry about such things.’
Hayle snorted. ‘Speak for yourself.’
Barrington’s gaze sharpened. ‘You are your father’s heir.’
‘Oh, yes. But as he’s still in his forties and hale and hearty, I’m not likely to inherit any time soon,’ Hayle said sourly. ‘So, what’s your connection with the baroness?’
‘We have no connection, per se,’ Barrington said, aware that the man changed subjects more often than a lady changed her mind. ‘We were introduced by your sister at Lady Bessmel’s reception and have seen each other at a few society gatherings since, but nothing beyond that.’ He gazed at the earl’s son through a fine wisp of smoke. ‘I understand it was your sister’s idea to launch the baroness into society.’
‘Of course it was. Anna loves to manage other people’s lives. Personally, I think her time would be better spent smoothing her way into some man’s bed,’ Hayle said in a disagreeable tone, adding when he saw Barrington’s stern look, ‘After she marries him, of course. Anna would never do anything as irresponsible as compromise herself. But it’s long past time she was wed. Father’s too soft. He won’t force her into an arranged marriage, even though he knows it would be best for all concerned.’
‘I’m sure your sister would have no problem finding a husband if that was something she truly wanted,’ Barrington said, careful to keep the annoyance from his voice. ‘She is an exceedingly beautiful woman.’
‘But meddlesome and outspoken,’ Hayle remarked. ‘Men don’t like that in a wife. They want quiet, biddable women who know their place. Anna is neither biddable nor accommodating, as I’m sure you know from the brief time you’ve spent with her. Mind, I’ve heard her mention your name more than once and that’s saying something. Better watch yourself, Parker, or she’ll have you in the parson’s mousetrap before you can turn around.’ He drained the contents of his glass, then signalled the waiter for a refill. ‘So, I hear you’re giving a fencing demonstration at Angelo’s this week.’
Barrington’s hand tightened on his glass. ‘No. I am giving Lord Yew’s son a lesson. In private.’
‘I heard you were going to fight.’
‘You heard wrong.’
‘But why wouldn’t you fight?’ Hayle asked. ‘You’re reputed to be the finest swordsman in London. Why not show everyone that you are?’
‘Because that’s not what I do.’
‘Then why are you giving Yew’s boy a lesson?’
‘I agreed to it as a favour to the marquess. I also happen to like Lord Gerald. He shows a great deal of promise with the foil and he is anxious to better himself.’
‘Maybe, but you’ll never make a fighter of him. He’s too soft,’ Hayle said. ‘He hasn’t the heart for it. You’d do far better sparring with me. At least I’d give you a run for your money. So what do you say? Are you up for it?’
Barrington’s expression was deceptively benign. He was used to cocky young men challenging him. At one time, he’d encouraged it, fond of pitting his skills against all comers. But that game had lost its appeal years ago.
He was about to say as much when the door to the dining room opened and one of the younger maids walked in. He hadn’t noticed her earlier in the evening, which meant she likely hadn’t been in the room. He would certainly have remembered her if she had. She was somewhere in her early twenties, with dark brown hair and rather startling green eyes—
Barrington stiffened. Green eyes and dark brown hair. Was it possible he’d found Colonel Tanner’s elusive Miss Paisley? If so, he wasn’t surprised that the Colonel had asked him to look for her. Though petite, she had a lush, curving figure that was nicely displayed in the black gown and white apron. Her face was heart shaped and delicate and she had a truly lovely smile. But equally aware of having drawn the attention of nearly every man in the room, her cheeks turned bright pink as she made her way towards the butler, who was standing in the corner overseeing the proceedings.
A whispered conversation followed, during which the butler’s heavy eyebrows drew together in annoyance. Then, with a flick of his hand, he dismissed her.
As she headed back in their direction, Barrington noticed Hayle doing a leisurely appraisal of her charms. Then, slowly raising his glass, he watched her over the rim and when she was no more than five feet away, coughed. Not discreetly, as a gentleman might, but in a manner that was guaranteed to draw attention.
The girl glanced in their direction—and her step faltered.
Barrington heard her breath catch and saw her eyes widen as they met those of the man sitting next to him. Beside him, Hayle just smiled. Coldly. Like a spider watching a fly, knowing it was doomed.
The butler, noticing her standing in the middle of the room, said sharply, ‘Be off with you, girl!’
She went, all but running to the door. Hayle turned away, seemingly uninterested. ‘Bloody endless evening,’ he muttered into his glass.
But the girl didn’t leave. Barrington saw her hesitate by the door, saw her turn around to take one last look at Hayle, and the expression in her eyes said it all.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Barrington remarked, drawing deeply on his cigar. ‘Seems to me it’s all in how you look at it.’
Anna was seated at the pianoforte playing an air by Bach when the drawing-room door opened and the gentlemen filed in. She knew the piece well enough not to be flustered by their arrival and kept on playing, watching with interest as they took their various seats and settled into conversation with the ladies. Her father stopped to chat with Lady Bessmel, but eventually ended up at Julia’s side. His face was flushed and he was smiling. No doubt the result of an extra glass of port after dinner.
Edward spoke briefly to Lady Lydia Winston, but, judging from the expression on her face, the conversation was not at all to her liking. She stiffly got up and walked away. Edward just laughed.
‘I was going to ask if I might turn the pages for you,’ Sir Barrington said, quietly appearing at her side. ‘But since it’s obvious you play from memory, I doubt you are in need of my help.’
The glow of his smile warmed her. ‘Nevertheless, it is kind of you to offer, Sir Barrington.’
‘Kindness had nothing to do with it. I was looking for an excuse to talk to you.’
Anna was tempted to ask why he felt the need of an excuse, but the teasing quip died on her lips when she saw the way he was looking down at her. ‘About something in particular?’
‘Of course.’ He stared a moment longer, before turning his attention back to the room.
Anna kept her eyes on the keyboard, waiting for her breathing to settle. Would it always be like this? Was she destined to feel this trembling excitement every time Barrington drew near? She certainly hoped not. It wouldn’t bode well for their friendship if she did.
She cast a sideways glance at him and knew he was taking it all in. Making mental lists about the people and situations that intrigued him. Watching. Always watching.
‘It must get tiresome,’ she said at length. ‘Always having to watch the behaviour of others.’
He turned back to smile at her, one eyebrow raised in amusement. ‘That depends on your point of view. Some people spend their entire lives studying the behaviour of others. Wanting to know what their friends and acquaintances are doing. It’s called being nosy and society suffers from it excessively.’
Her lips twitched. ‘That’s quite true, but what you do is entirely different.’
‘Why would you say so?’
‘Because you don’t watch people with the intention of catching them doing something wrong. You watch with a view to catalogue it all for future reference. You notice who they speak to and who they ignore, if they drink too much or not at all, and if they dance with that person and not this one.’
‘You make me sound rather devious,’ he observed.
‘No. Just observant. Something that probably serves you well given the nature of your … occupation.’
The piece of music came to an end and Anna rose to the polite applause of the guests. Miss Constantine was to play next, and as that young lady moved forwards to take her place at the piano, Anna dropped back and fell in beside Barrington.
‘Did I detect a note of censure in your voice just then?’ he asked as they slowly walked away from the instrument.
Did he? Anna didn’t like to think she was revealing too much of herself, but with him, it wasn’t always easy to know. ‘I have the feeling, Sir Barrington, that one is never entirely safe around you. You see a great deal without ever giving the appearance of actually looking. That makes you dangerous.’
‘Only to those with something to hide. The innocent have no reason to fear me.’ His eyes found hers and held them captive. ‘I trust you do not find me dangerous, Lady Annabelle?’
‘Danger comes in many forms. I suspect knowing a man like you does not come without risks.’
‘Life does not come without risks,’ he said softly. ‘But you’re right. A man like myself is always more of a target, as are the people who associate with me.’
Thinking he was being overly dramatic, Anna smiled and said, ‘In that case, you’d best warn Miss Erickson to keep her distance.’
‘Miss Erickson?’
‘Miss Sofia Erickson. I happen to know she is very fond of you.’
Barrington said, ‘I’m not sure I know her.’
‘Of course you do. Eldest daughter of Viscount Oswell and recently returned from visiting her aunt in Edinburgh. She made her come out this Season and has already been acknowledged as one of its greatest successes. She speaks French and Italian fluently, is an accomplished rider, and an exceptional singer.’
A smile ruffled his mouth. ‘And have you had occasion to save the young lady from herself?’
‘Good Lord, no.’ The sensual curve of his lips brought a series of highly inappropriate thoughts to mind, but Anna forced herself to ignore them. ‘She is one of the most intelligent young women I’ve ever met. She is mindful of the proprieties and quite capable of telling a gentleman to watch his manners if she feels he is out of line.’
‘Tell me, how do you come to be so involved in the lives of all these young women?’ Barrington asked curiously as they sat down together on the velvet settee. ‘Surely your father would wish you to pay more attention to your own future than chasing around after everyone else’s?’
Anna felt the familiar warmth creep into her cheeks—an annoyingly common occurrence since meeting this man. ‘One can do both at the same time. Helping someone else navigate the path towards marriage does not mean I cannot walk the path myself.’
‘But if you are too busy looking out for the welfare of others, how can you see to your own?’
‘I hardly think I am doing one to the exclusion of the other,’ Anna said defensively. ‘Besides, what I do for these girls is important. All too often they find themselves swept up in the emotion of the moment and don’t stop to think about the repercussions.’
‘And so you step in,’ he said softly. ‘Like you did with Mercy Banks and Fiona Whitfield, and God knows how many others, in an attempt to save them from themselves.’
‘It is all very well for you to mock me, Sir Barrington, but you cannot deny that—’ Anna broke off to stare at him. ‘How did you know I was involved with Fiona Whitfield?’
‘Do you really need ask?’
‘Yes, I fear I must. Fiona’s mother and father were adamant that word of what happened to Fiona not leak out. I gave them my word that I would say nothing and, since the young man was sent abroad, I don’t see how you could possibly be aware of what took place.’
‘As it happens, I was making enquiries into the activities of Miss Whitfield’s uncle,’ Barrington told her. ‘I learned of your association with the family at that time. And though I did not delve into the particulars of Miss Whitfield’s situation, I did learn of your involvement with her whilst speaking to another family member.’
Anna gasped. ‘Someone else knew what happened to Fiona?’
‘I’m afraid so. But, like you, they were sworn to secrecy. And it worked out well enough in the end. She married Lord Priestley’s son earlier this year and I understand they are very happy together.’
‘Yes, thank goodness. It could have turned out so badly for her, and all because of that despicable man.’ Anna sighed. ‘It really isn’t fair, you know. A man may tempt a woman with honeyed words and longing looks, yet she is the one who must behave with propriety at all times. If he manages to steal a kiss, he is not thought of any the less, whereas she is deemed to have loose morals.’
‘Sadly, it has always been thus,’ Barrington remarked. ‘Society makes the rules and we must obey.’
‘No. Men make the rules and then demand that women follow them. It is no wonder we sometimes falter.’
She saw the surprise in his face. ‘Am I to assume from your comment, Lady Annabelle, that you yourself have faltered in the past?’
‘That is none of your business!’ she exclaimed.
‘No, I don’t suppose it is.’ He laughed softly, the sound sending shivers up her spine. ‘But your reputation doesn’t suggest a woman who would be easily led astray. I find my curiosity piqued at the thought of you having ever done anything wrong.’
‘Then you will just have to live with piqued curiosity,’ Anna said, abruptly standing up.
‘Anna, wait, I meant no offence,’ he said, likewise getting to his feet. ‘If I’ve inadvertently touched a nerve, I apologise. It was never my intention to hurt you.’
Anna shook her head, too distracted by unpleasant memories of the past to notice his lapse into familiarity. ‘And I did not mean to be abrupt, Sir Barrington, but I have no wish to talk about what happened in my past.’
‘I understand. We’ve all made mistakes, some worse than others. But given your untarnished reputation and excellent standing in society, it’s obvious your mistake, if that’s what it was, did not serve as your undoing.’
‘It could have,’ Anna whispered, ‘had a friend not come along when she had.’
And that was the tragic truth of her brief flirtation with the Honourable Anthony Colder. As a naïve seventeen-year-old, Anna had all but thrown herself at the god-like creature, believing the smiles he had bestowed upon her were the result of a genuine and mutual affection. Little had she known that his interest had more to do with her father being the Earl of Cambermere than it did with any charms she might possess herself. Anthony had been an avid social climber, as well as the most handsome man she had ever met. With those laughing blue eyes and a smile that set butterflies dancing in her stomach, she would have given him anything he’d asked for. And if he’d had his chance, he would have taken it.
Mrs Mary Fielding had known that, too. A twice-married woman wise to the ways of men like Anthony Colder, Mrs Fielding had seen the growing infatuation between the two young people and had guessed at its source, being more familiar with Anthony’s background than most. She had known of his gambling debts, his easy way with women, and his devil-may-care attitude. And on that evening when Anthony, having drunk too much brandy and feeling far too sure of himself, had caught Anna alone in the gazebo by the lake and torn her gown in a boorish attempt at seduction, Mrs Fielding had appeared and promptly sent him packing. She had stayed with Anna until the worst of her grief had passed, and then, after drying Anna’s tears, she had lent her a shawl to cover the tear and had sent her regrets back to their hostess, explaining that Lady Annabelle was unwell and that she was seeing her home in her own carriage.
It had been a painful lesson, but one Anna had learned well. She had gone home that evening and made no mention of the event to anyone. She regretted having told her parents and her brother of her affection for Anthony, but after that night she never mentioned his name again. Nor, thankfully, did she see him. Mrs Fielding informed her not long after that he had left the country.
Anna had never been so glad to see the back of anyone in her life. And though she thought it was impossible for her to blush any deeper, she was wrong. Even after all this time, her face burned at the memory of her stupid, stupid mistake.
‘Tell me what happened, Lady Annabelle,’ Barrington said in a low voice. ‘Your secrets are safe with me. I know, better than most, the value of discretion.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you do,’ Anna said quietly. ‘But the only way to completely ensure one’s secrets is by keeping them entirely to oneself.’
‘I’m sorry you cannot bring yourself to trust me.’
She looked up at him, surprised that he would mention trust in such a situation. ‘I do not know you, Sir Barrington.
And the trust of which you speak is generally reserved for relationships between husbands and wives.’
‘I’ve always thought that bonds of trust can exist between friends as well as lovers.’
‘Perhaps, but it takes time to establish that kind of bond,’ she said, sounding flustered even to her own ears. ‘You are a single gentleman and I a single lady. It isn’t the thing for us to … share secrets of an intimate nature. But if you were looking for a wife, you would do well to consider Miss Erickson. Apart from her many other attributes, she is a genuinely nice young woman.’
‘What makes you think I’m looking for a wife?’ he asked.
‘Why would you not be? You just told me that we must abide by society’s rules, and society dictates that men and women should marry. Is that not the purpose of these gatherings? To place one in the path of the other?’
‘I suppose it is.’ He hesitated a moment before adding, ‘But I think it only right to tell you that Miss Erickson would not be of interest to me, even if I were of a mind to marry.’
If he were of a mind to marry? ‘Are you telling me you intend to remain single?’ Anna asked, eyebrows lifting in shock.
‘That was my plan, yes.’
‘But what of your obligation to your family?’
‘I fear the task of continuing the Parker name will fall to a distant cousin with whom I am not acquainted,’ Barrington said blandly. ‘As to the obligation owed, I am more concerned with the welfare of the lady with whom I might wish to spend my life than I am to the furthering of my ancestral line.’
‘Then I would have to say you are unique in your thinking,’ Anna said. ‘Most society gentlemen are concerned with their family name and marry to beget an heir.’
‘Yes, but you should know by now that my life is not that of a typical society gentleman. My reputation is such that people come to me when they wish to learn things about others. And because I ask questions people have no wish to be asked, I continuously put myself at risk.’
‘Surely you exaggerate the danger.’
‘I do not.’ His smile held secrets she could not begin to imagine. ‘The people I usually investigate are not the honourable men you meet in society, Lady Annabelle. They are scoundrels and blackmailers, men who operate beyond the boundaries of the law and who are completely without conscience. When I get too close, they get nervous. And when I convict them, they look for retribution.’
‘But surely not of a life-threatening kind!’
He shrugged, as though trying to make light of it. ‘There have been attempts on my life in the past and I have no reason to believe there will not be attempts in the future. The easiest way to ensure my silence is to eliminate the possibility of my saying anything at all. That said, I will not knowingly put anyone else in danger.’
‘But if these men have issues with you, why should you fear for the safety of those close to you?’
‘Because there is no better way to strike back at me than to hurt someone I care about.’ They had walked, by tacit agreement, onto the balcony. Barrington rested his arms against the stone balustrade and stared down into the garden. ‘And who could be dearer to me than the woman to whom I would give my name … and my heart.’
Anna felt her mouth go dry. Strange that the breeze should suddenly feel so cool. Was her body overly warm? They were standing quite close; close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. ‘So you would choose to live … without a woman to share your life,’ she whispered, ‘rather than expose your wife to possible harm?’
‘In a heartbeat.’ He turned his head so that his eyes bored into hers. ‘How could I say I loved someone if I didn’t care about their safety? If the thought of something happening to them didn’t tear me apart?’
Anna shivered. ‘You could give up what you’re doing. You are a gentleman. You have no need to work.’
‘And what would I do with myself then?’ He reached out and took her hand in his. ‘I have servants to run my estate and stewards and secretaries to see to my affairs. But a man must have something of his own or what reason has he for getting up each day?’
As he spoke, his fingers caressed the palm of her hand, smoothing the tender skin at the base of her wrist. His touch was light, non-threatening—and it turned Anna’s world upside down.
She closed her eyes, the sounds of the room beyond fading into the distance. She knew she should pull her hand free, but she was neither willing nor anxious to do so. His thumb was painting circles on her skin, lulling her with a touch.
‘We get up because … that is what the world expects of us,’ she said huskily. Dear Lord, what was he doing? Not content with massaging her palm and wrist, his thumb was continuing its treacherous voyage along the inside of her arm, causing disturbing quakes in her sanity. ‘Surely there is … a kind of security, perhaps even of comfort, in the carrying out of our daily task?’
‘Ah, but there are far sweeter pleasures to be enjoyed than that, my lady,’ Barrington murmured as he brushed the back of his free hand against her cheek. ‘The smoothness of a woman’s skin, the softness of her hair.’ He gently twined a lock around his finger and held it to his face, inhaling the delicate fragrance. ‘Finer than silk and more precious than gold.’ Then, releasing it, he gently grasped her chin between thumb and forefinger and tilted her face up. ‘Last but not least, the sweetness of her lips …’
Anna had been kissed before … but never like this. Never by a man whose touch was enough to make her long to release her tenuous hold on respectability. His mouth moved over hers slowly, thoughtfully, shattering her resolve and filling her with a desperate need to be loved. Surely she deserved this. Surely, after everything she’d been through, she was entitled to some small measure of love and affection for herself?
As he deepened the kiss, Anna raised her arms, twining them around his neck, wanting to be close and then closer still. His tongue teased her lips apart and heat poured through her body, flowing like molten fire through her veins. She moaned, feeling desire rise and want settle low in her belly. Ah, the sweet, sweet pleasure …
But the pleasure was bittersweet. Even as his arms tightened around her, Anna knew it could come to nothing. Barrington had no intention of marrying. He’d just told her as much. And if he wasn’t willing to offer marriage, what they were doing now was not only wrong, it was self-destructive. She wanted more from him. Much more than he was willing to give. And in the end, she would be the one who walked away with her heart in ruins. And therein lay the true sadness of the situation. The one man with whom she could have foreseen a future was the one man with whom it would never be.
‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ she whispered, breaking free of his arms.
‘Anna, what’s wrong?’ he asked huskily.
‘What’s wrong? I’m wrong,’ she whispered. ‘This is wrong. Because right now, I’m no better than the foolish young women whose reputations I fight to protect.’
‘That’s ridiculous!’
‘Is it? You just told me you have no intention of marrying, yet I allowed myself to be held in your arms and kissed like any cheap whore. What is that if not the height of stupidity?’
Anna flung at him. ‘At least Mercy Banks was hopeful of a marriage resulting from her liaison with Lieutenant Blokker! You’ve made it clear there is no such happy ending in sight.’
His face darkened, his breathing heavy and uneven. ‘I said that because I don’t want you harbouring false hope. But it doesn’t change the way I feel about you.’
‘And is that supposed to make me feel better? Am I supposed to be comforted by the knowledge that you desire me, yet have no intention of offering marriage?’ Anna shook her head. ‘There is a word for that kind of relationship, Sir Barrington, and it is not flattering.’
‘It was never my intention to compromise you, Anna,’ he said quietly. ‘I care too much for you.’
‘My name is Lady Annabelle. And if you care so much for me, leave me alone!’
Without waiting for his answer, Anna picked up her skirts and fled. Angry tears blurred her vision as she ran down the length of the balcony. Idiot! She’d made a fool of herself again, allowing herself to be held and kissed as though she were a naïve young schoolgirl. She, who prided herself on knowing all the games and all the excuses, had let herself be taken in. And by doing so, Barrington had undermined everything she believed in. When she had allowed him to kiss her, she had wanted to believe that it meant something. But it was obvious to anyone with an iota of sense that it meant absolutely nothing. Sophisticated Barrington might be, but he was still a man, and when it came right down to it, he wanted the same thing as every other man. Pleasure without commitment. Love without obligation. The very things she kept warning her young ladies to avoid.
The breeze came up and, once again, Anna felt chilled. She hadn’t stopped to fetch her wrap before venturing outside, but neither was she about to run back into the drawing room now.
Observant eyes would see the evidence of her tears, recognise the flush in her cheeks and put their own interpretation on the events—and nothing on earth was going to persuade her to tell anyone what had really happened.
She glanced back over her shoulder, wondering if Barrington had followed her. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed when she saw that he hadn’t. All right, so she’d made a mistake. It wasn’t the first time she’d done so, but at least this time she was old enough to recognise it for herself. Barrington had made his feelings for her clear. The episode would not be repeated. From now on, she would treat him exactly the same way he treated everyone else. Coolly. Professionally. Without emotion. He would never make her cry again.
It was a good ten minutes before Anna felt calm enough to venture back into the house. Not by the drawing room through which she’d left. That would be far too embarrassing, especially knowing that Barrington had gone back in only a short time ago. Instead, she walked to the end of the balcony and, finding another set of glass doors, tried the handle. Thankfully, it was unlocked and pushing it open, she walked into a small study—only to stop and gasp in shock.
Her brother and Julia’s maid were standing by the door, locked together in a passionate embrace. ‘Edward!’
At once, the pair sprang apart, but it was too late to disguise what they had been doing. The maid’s dark hair had come down around her shoulders, her gown was in disarray and her lips were red and swollen.
Embarrassed, Anna looked away. Obviously, her brother wasn’t above seducing pretty housemaids, whether they be his own or someone else’s. Refusing to meet his eyes, she murmured, ‘Excuse me’, and then immediately made her way to the door. Edward said nothing, but she heard his mocking laughter following her through the door. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. Her brother had once again proven himself the immoral creature she believed him to be.
And what about you? the little voice nagged. Are you so much better? So much more virtuous?
Anna felt her face burn with humiliation. No, perhaps she wasn’t. She kept remembering the passionate encounter she’d just shared with Barrington, the shameless manner in which she had allowed him to kiss her. Oh, yes, she’d let him kiss her. She wasn’t about to lay the blame for what had happened entirely at his door. He was gentleman enough that if she had asked him to stop, he would have—but she hadn’t done that. She’d wanted to know how it would feel to kiss him. To watch his head bend slowly towards her, and to feel his mouth close intimately over hers.
It had been everything she’d expected—and more.
But Barrington was no more likely to become her husband than Julia’s maid was to become Edward’s wife. They had both been indulging in impossible fantasies.
‘Let he who is without sin cast the first stone …’
A sobering thought. As Anna made her way back to the drawing room, she realised that the proverbial stone would never find its way to her hand.
Chapter Seven (#ulink_18a98e38-8b11-519e-89ad-efdf8b08d673)
For the next few days, Barrington went around like a bear with a sore head. Unable to forget what had happened between Anna and himself at the baroness’s dinner party, he was quick to anger and slow to unwind, because he knew he’d hurt her. And hurting her was the last thing he’d ever wanted to do.
He’d still been in the drawing room when Anna had finally returned, but she hadn’t approached him again. She had remained coldly aloof, treating him as though he wasn’t there. He wasn’t surprised that she had left shortly after.
He’d left early as well, all pleasure in the evening gone. Upon returning home, he’d made for his study and downed a stiff glass of brandy, followed in quick succession by two more. But the potent liquor had done nothing to assuage his guilt, or to help him find escape in sleep. When the morning had come, he’d been as tired and as irritable as when he’d gone to bed.
Much as he was this morning, three days later, as he made his way to Angelo’s Haymarket rooms for his ten o’clock appointment with the Marquess of Yew’s son.
Barrington deeply regretted having made the appointment.
The last thing he felt like doing was teaching the finer points of fencing to the gangly nineteen-year-old son of a man he neither liked nor respected. However, he had given Yew his promise that he would show the boy a few things and he was a man who kept his word. All he could do now was hope the hour passed quickly and that he didn’t do the boy an unintentional injury.
Unfortunately, Lord Bessmel was right when he’d said that word of the lesson—or demonstration—had spread. By the time Barrington arrived, the room was filled to overflowing with gentlemen of all ages, some carrying swords, some just there to observe. It was worse than he’d expected.
‘Ah, Parker,’ Lord Yew greeted him with a smile. ‘Good to see you. Quite the turnout, eh? I vow you draw a larger crowd than Prinnie.’
‘Perhaps because you put it about that this was to be a demonstration, rather than the private lesson we agreed to,’ Barrington said.
‘Really?’ the marquess said lazily. ‘I don’t recall saying this was to be a lesson. But never mind, now you and Gerald have a suitable audience.’
‘An audience that comes armed and ready to spar?’ The marquess smiled. ‘You should be thanking me, Parker. You have your pick of opponents and since we both know there’s not a man in the room who can best you, you’re guaranteed to come out on top. Why not just have fun with it?’ ‘Because that’s not what I do.’ Barrington’s jaw tightened. Unfortunately, they both knew this was something of a command performance. A ‘small additional favour’ in exchange for the marquess’s silence over Peregrine Rand’s affair with his wife. And while Barrington would normally have refused to play a part, all it took was the memory of the look on Anna’s face when she had spoken of Rand’s guilt to make him change his mind. He didn’t particularly care about the other man’s feelings, but he would have done almost anything to prevent hers being further injured.
‘I’ve lived up to my side of the bargain, Yew. I trust you intend to do the same.’
‘Are you questioning my integrity?’ the marquess asked, peering down his long, patrician nose.
‘No. But I know how angry you were with Rand and I don’t want to think that all of this has been for naught.’
The marquess chuckled. ‘I can assure you it has not. In point of fact, I wasn’t really angry at all.’
Barrington’s mouth tightened. ‘I beg your pardon?’
The marquess’s expression was remote as he gazed at the milling crowd. ‘Rand is not the first man to make love to my wife, and, God knows, he won’t be the last. Susan is voracious in that regard and while I enjoy sex as much as the next man, I am not inclined to engage in it as often as she might wish. So I turn a blind eye to her affairs. It flatters me to know that she is still beautiful enough to attract other men; it flatters her to know that she is desired by men younger than herself.’
No stranger to the unusual, Barrington was none the less bewildered by Yew’s unexpected admission. ‘Then why did you go to the trouble of persecuting him?’
The marquess’s gaze narrowed. ‘You really don’t know?’ When Barrington shook his head, Yew said in amusement, ‘Because I was asked to.’
Having casually dropped his bomb, the marquess strolled away. Barrington, aware that the eyes of the room were on him, allowed nothing of his anger to show, knowing it would incite too many questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. But he was angry. Furiously so. Someone had been playing with Peregrine Rand—and, by association, with him.
‘Good m-morning, Sir B-Barrington,’ Lord Gerald Fitzhenry said, coming up to him. ‘It’s v-very good of you to d-do this for me.’
Lord Yew’s youngest son was a quiet, unassuming young man, who, though raised in an atmosphere of wealth and privilege, had managed to lose none of his good nature as a result. Perhaps the stutter kept him from becoming too arrogant, Barrington reflected. It wasn’t a fashionable affectation, but a lifelong affliction, one the boy had desperately tried to overcome. But it was exacerbated by nerves and, given the unexpected turnout in the room, Barrington knew this morning’s performance would be more difficult for Lord Gerald than usual. As such, he turned to face the lad with a reassuring smile. ‘You show a great deal of promise, Lord Gerald. Perhaps I can point out a few things that will help you become an even better fencer.’
The boy’s face shone. ‘I would l-like that, very much.’
‘Good. Then shall we take our positions?’
As Barrington led the way onto the floor, he was conscious of every eye in the room following him. He was acquainted with many of the gentlemen present and knew that some of them were decent fencers and were here for that reason alone. Having been taught by one of the finest swordsmen in France, Barrington possessed skills few others did and the chance to watch him spar today was an opportunity too good to miss.
But not all the gentlemen in the room had come simply to observe his technique. A movement at the far end of the room drew Barrington’s attention. Looking up, he saw Hayle leaning against the wall, sword in hand. He had come to fight. He’d made that very clear.
Barrington had no intention of indulging him. Men like Hayle only wanted to prove their superiority over others. It was likely one of the reasons Hayle resented Rand’s presence in the house. Though Rand offered no tangible threat, he was a competitor for the earl’s attention, perhaps even for his affection. And if Hayle believed that Rand was his half-brother, he would naturally assume there was an affinity between his father and the other man he couldn’t affect or control.
He wouldn’t like that. Hayle needed to be seen as the only cock of the roost, and, so far, he had. Lord only knew what would happen if and when he found out otherwise.
An hour later, it was all over.
‘You did well,’ Barrington said, removing his mask and walking towards Lord Gerald. ‘But you would do better if you kept your arm straight and the weight of your body on the front of your feet. You need to be able to move quickly around your opponent. Try to catch him off balance.’
‘Yes, Sir B-Barrington,’ said the grateful but sweating youth.
‘And don’t forget what I said about practising your double and triple feints. They’ll stand you in good stead when you find yourself pushed to defend yourself. If you like, come round to the house and I’ll lend you a couple of books that helped me when I was where you are.’
The boy’s face shone as though he’d been given the keys to the kingdom. ‘Thank you so much, Sir B-Barrington. I will t-try to d-do that.’
Barrington smiled and clapped the lad on the shoulder. He was glad now that he’d agreed to the lesson. Lord Gerald had turned out to be a surprisingly good swordsman and he was appreciative of the time he’d been given. He would benefit by what he’d learned today.
‘Who’s next then, Sir Barrington?’ someone called out from the crowd.
Despite the cheers that greeted the man’s words, Barrington shook his head. ‘Sorry, gentlemen, the show’s over. You can all go home now.’
Amidst the rumble of disappointment, another voice said, ‘But this was to be a demonstration. Surely you wouldn’t send everyone away without giving them what they really came here to see.’
Barrington’s mouth compressed into a thin line. So, Hayle would challenge him publicly. A foolish thing to do. ‘I’m sure there are others who would favour you with a match, Lord Hayle.’
‘But it is with you I wish to engage, Sir Barrington,’ Hayle said softly. ‘Will you not stand and face me? I have been acknowledged a better than average fencer and would welcome an opportunity to go up against the best.’
Hearing the room suddenly fall silent, Barrington sighed. ‘My purpose this morning was to instruct Lord Yew’s son. It was not a general invitation to spar.’
‘But surely there can be no harm in engaging in a friendly match,’ Hayle said, advancing on to the floor. ‘You are acknowledged the finest swordsman in England. Every one of us here could benefit by watching and learning, and I am willing to put myself forward as your student. If nothing else, I promise you a better match than the one you just concluded.’
‘I was not engaged in a match,’ Barrington reminded him. ‘I was giving a lesson.’
‘Then consider me your student and this an opportunity to improve my skills,’ Hayle said with a grin.
Hearing murmurs in the crowd that were pushing for the match, Barrington sighed. Hayle obviously wasn’t going to back down, especially if he felt he had the backing of his friends. And while he needed a lesson, Barrington knew it was in humility rather than sword play. ‘Very well.’ He walked back into the room and donned his mask. ‘Prepare to engage.’
An excited murmur rolled through the crowd. Men who were halfway to the door quickly turned around and ran back into the room, aware that a far more entertaining show was about to get underway. Triumph and anticipation suffused Hayle’s face as he stripped off his jacket and donned a mask.
In silence the two men made their way to the centre of the floor. After offering the traditional salute, they both took their opening stance.
It didn’t take long for Barrington to assess his opponent’s level of skill. Hayle was a showy fencer and quick on his feet, but there was no strategy to his play; at times, his technique was downright sloppy. Barrington easily scored five hits in a matter of minutes—and watched his opponent’s face grow redder with each one.
‘I think that’s enough for one morning,’ he said, starting to remove his mask.
‘Stand your ground, sir!’ Hayle shouted. ‘I will say when this is finished.’ He took up his stance again. ‘En guarde!’
Barrington saw the anger in the other man’s eyes and knew this could only end badly. He had no wish to humiliate Hayle in front of a room full of his friends and acquaintances, but neither was he about to throw the game in order to appease his vanity. ‘Very well. We shall play one more bout and then call a halt. Does that meet with your approval?’
Hayle gave a terse nod and resumed his position.
The match recommenced. Barrington tried not to make the other man look bad, but the more desperate Hayle became, the more careless his play. He was caught flat footed several times and as the bout went on his moves became more and more erratic. After receiving his fourth hit, he shouted, ‘Damn you, Parker!’, then, abandoning sportsmanlike conduct altogether, he lunged, aiming the point of his sword directly at Barrington’s throat.
Barrington heard the gasp from the crowd, but was already out of range. He stepped lithely to one side and quickly raised his own foil, deflecting the blow. Hayle spun around and was about to charge again when a voice rang out, ‘Enough, Edward! Put down your sword! This engagement is at an end!’
The command vibrated with anger, but Hayle was oblivious, his attention riveted on his adversary. Barrington held his position, too, unwilling to trust his opponent. He risked a quick glance across the room and saw the Earl of Cambermere standing by the edge of the crowd. His face was red and he was shaking with barely suppressed fury. ‘Did you not hear me, sir?’ he called again. ‘I said put down your sword!’
‘I will not, sir!’ His son’s face was equally flushed. ‘How dare you ask me to!’
‘How dare I?’ his father exploded, marching on to the floor. ‘You impugn our family’s honour by behaving in such a way and then have the audacity to question me? No, sir, I will not have it! If you cannot control your temper, find another sport in which to indulge.’ He ripped the foil from his son’s hand and threw it on the floor. ‘This is a gentleman’s game. You will apologise to Sir Barrington at once or I’ll know the reason why!’
Barrington slowly lowered his sword, but remained in a ready position, prepared to fight if Hayle picked up his sword and re-engaged him. He had no idea what the man was going to do, but it was evident to everyone in the place that Hayle was beyond furious. In that moment, Barrington wasn’t sure the man wouldn’t turn on his own father and run him through.
Thankfully, the moment passed. As if realising he couldn’t win and that his reputation would only suffer further by prolonging the encounter, Hayle took a step back, then bent to pick up his sword. ‘I will not apologise to you this day or any other, Sir Barrington,’ he said coldly. ‘But I do regret that we were unable to finish our match. I look forward to the opportunity of doing so in the future.’ Then, without so much as a second glance at his father, he snatched up his jacket and left.
Barely had the door closed before the level of conversation swelled to fill the silence. Barrington heard snippets of conversations, some questioning, many derogatory. Overall, none were particularly complimentary of Hayle’s behaviour on the floor. Fencing was, after all, a gentleman’s sport and what the audience had just witnessed was a display of anything but.
It was a few minutes before the earl was calm enough to speak. When he did, Barrington could see it was with considerable effort. ‘Sir Barrington, pray accept my apologies on behalf of my son. His behaviour was unforgivable and I am truly sorry.’
‘Apology accepted, but I suggest you do not take this too much to heart, Cambermere,’ Barrington said. ‘It is not uncommon for a young man to wish to win, especially in front of his peers.’
‘If a man cannot win fairly or lose graciously, he should not play the game,’ Cambermere snapped. ‘I’m sorry you had to see that side of Edward’s nature. He’s always been a competitive lad, but of late, he has become even more so. I suspect it has much to do with Peregrine’s arrival.’ The earl sighed. ‘They have not become the friends I’d hoped.’
‘Was it realistic to believe they would?’
The earl glanced up, his sharp eyes meeting Barrington’s. But Barrington’s didn’t waver, and, not surprisingly, the earl was the first to look away. ‘Perhaps not. But they had to meet at some time.’
‘Did they? I would have thought it possible for their paths never to have crossed. But it’s a moot point now. You made the decision to invite Rand to London and must now deal with the consequences,’ Barrington said.
‘I know. But I was asked if I would have him,’ the earl said quietly. ‘And I wanted him to come.’
Used to gleaning meanings from things that were left unsaid, Barrington inclined his head. ‘Then it really is none of anyone else’s business.’
‘Yet people choose to make it so,’ Cambermere said fiercely.
Barrington’s smile was tight. ‘People like to pass judgement on matters that do not concern them. Some do it with the best of intentions, others do it without any care for the consequences at all. But as we said, the matter is private and one that concerns you and your family alone.’
Even has he said it, however, Barrington realised he had been given another glimpse into the complicated workings of Lord Cambermere’s family, and it was evident from the morning’s events that all was far from harmonious. There were simmering resentments, unsettled grievances, and barely restrained tempers. Instead of warming to the fact that his father had brought his godson to London, Hayle intended to do whatever he could to make Rand feel unwelcome—even to the point of humiliating him in front of his peers.
That much had become patently clear. As Barrington left the club and climbed into his carriage for the drive home, he knew who had asked the Marquess of Yew to make an example of Peregrine Rand. And, sadly, he also knew the reason why.
A full week passed during which Anna neither saw nor heard from Barrington. She told herself she didn’t care, but as she lay awake in the dark hours of the night, she knew she was lying to herself. She did care. And it troubled her deeply that they had parted on such bad terms.
Try as she might, she couldn’t forget the feeling of Barrington’s arms closing warm and strong around her. She kept remembering the tenderness of his mouth as it moved with deliberate slowness over hers, sending shivers of delight up and down her spine.
It still made her quiver when she thought about it.
Still, longing for something you couldn’t have was a complete waste of one’s time, and there wasn’t a doubt in Anna’s mind that she would never have a life with Barrington. He’d made it perfectly clear that he had no intention of getting married, and it certainly wasn’t her place to get him to change his mind. She was the foolish one if she thought there was any merit in that.
‘Ah, Anna, there you are,’ her father said, walking into the drawing room. ‘Not going out this evening?’
‘I’m not, but it would seem you are,’ she said, rousing herself. ‘Is that a new coat?’
To her amusement, her father’s cheeks took on a ruddy hue. ‘I decided it was time to spruce up my wardrobe. Doesn’t do for a gentleman to let himself go and I haven’t paid much attention to things like that since your mother died.’ His voice softened. ‘I had no reason to.’
‘And have you a reason now?’
He glanced at her, suddenly looking boyish. ‘Would it disturb you if I said I had?’
‘Not at all. I like Julia very much.’ Anna hesitated. ‘I take it we are referring to Julia?’
‘Of course!’
‘Good. Then if she makes you happy, why should I object?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ the earl grumbled. ‘Some people say I’m past such things. That I’m too old for her. I am nearly twenty years her senior, after all.’
‘If the lady does not mind, why should you? You don’t look your age, and she is past thirty, Papa. Old enough to make her own decisions.’
Her father glanced down at the floor. ‘Your brother is not pleased by the association.’
Anna sighed. ‘My brother is not pleased with anything at the moment so I shouldn’t worry about it. Do what I do. Ignore him.’
‘Can you not try to get along, Anna? He is your brother, after all.’
‘Yes, he is, but I cannot bring myself to like the way he treats people; his attitude towards Peregrine is abysmal. He demonstrates a resentment that is neither warranted nor deserved. I’ve tried to tell him as much, but he refuses to listen.’
Her father looked as though he wanted to say something, but then he sighed, and shook his head. ‘I blame myself for the distance between the two of you. Perhaps had I paid more attention to Edward when he was younger—’
‘The fault is not yours, Papa,’ Anna interrupted firmly. ‘Edward has been given every opportunity to show himself the better man. He has wealth and position—there is absolutely no reason for him to be so harsh and judgemental towards others.’
‘Perhaps he will change when he meets the right woman. It is my sincere wish that you both find suitable marriage partners and leave this house to start your own lives.’ Her father regarded her hopefully. ‘Is there no one for whom you feel even the slightest affection, my dear?’
Sadly, there was. But while Anna would have liked to give her father the reassurance he so desperately craved, there was no point in raising his hopes. Or hers. ‘I fear not. But am I such a trouble to you that you would try to make me leave?’
‘Far from it. You’re a good girl, Anna. And though I don’t say it often, I am very proud of you. A week doesn’t go by that some grateful mother doesn’t tell me how helpful you’ve been in smoothing the troubled waters between her and her daughter. Most of them credit you with having saved their sanity!’
Surprised by the admission, Anna said, ‘I can assure you they were exaggerating. None of the situations was that dire. It is simply easier for a stranger to see what needs to be done than someone who is intimately involved.’
‘Nevertheless, they all told me how helpful you were and that I should be very proud to have such an admirable young woman for a daughter. And I told them all they were right.’
Her father was not normally an affectionate man, so when he suddenly bent down and pressed his lips to her forehead, Anna was deeply moved. ‘Oh, Papa.’ She got up and hugged him, aware that it had been a long time since she’d done so. If this was Julia’s doing, she could only hope that the romance continued.
‘Yes, well, I’d best be off,’ the earl said gruffly. He stepped back and smoothed his jacket. ‘Jul—that is, the baroness and I are having dinner together and then going on to the theatre.’
‘Sounds lovely. Have a good time.’
‘Yes, I expect we will.’
Anna smiled as she watched him go. It was strange to suddenly find herself in the role of the parent. She was well aware that she was the one who should have been going out for the evening and her father the one wishing her well. But there was only one man with whom Anna wished to spend time and the chances of that happening were getting slimmer all the time.
Troubled as he was by his feelings for Anna, Barrington knew he couldn’t afford to ignore his other commissions. In particular, the locating of Miss Elizabeth Paisley. His belief that he’d found her at Baroness von Brohm’s house had turned out to be false. He had gone back a few days later to question her, but the moment she’d walked into the drawing room, he’d known he was mistaken. The maid’s name was Justine Smith, and though she was the right age, the right height, and had the right colour hair, her eyes were all wrong. Hers had actually been a pale misty blue where the Colonel had specifically told him that Elizabeth Paisley’s were a deep, clear green. Barrington thought that in the candlelit room the night of the baroness’s dinner party, he must have been mistaken when he’d thought the maid’s eyes were green.
And so, at eleven o’clock that morning, Barrington resumed his investigation by visiting the premises of one Madame Delors, fashionable modiste. Dressmakers were privy to a great deal of gossip about wives and mistresses, and if someone had taken over the protection of Miss Elizabeth Paisley, there was a good chance Madame Delors would know about it.
Barrington stopped inside the door and glanced around the compact little shop. It was years since he’d had reason to frequent such an establishment, but it was evident they hadn’t changed. Bolts of richly coloured fabric of every type and shade filled the shelves; dress patterns were tacked to the walls; and in the centre of the room stood a raised podium surrounded on three sides by mirrors.
‘Bonjour, monsieur,’ called a charmingly accented French voice. ‘Puis-je vous aidez?’
The owner of the establishment was small and compact, with dark inquisitive eyes and a head of flaming red hair that surely owed more to artifice than it did to nature. Still, it suited her well and Barrington doffed his hat. ‘Bonjour, madame. My name is Sir Barrington Parker. I would like to ask you a few questions, if you have a moment to spare.’
The woman’s eyes narrowed, his comment obviously having put her on guard. ‘What kind of questions, monsieur?’
‘About a woman.’ He purposely didn’t use the term lady. ‘One I believe you dressed in the not-too-distant past.’
‘I dress many women, monsieur. You will ‘ave to give me ‘er name.’
‘Miss Elizabeth Paisley. Petite, lovely, with dark brown hair and uncommonly pretty green eyes.’
The modiste evidenced neither surprise nor recognition. ‘I do not think I know the lady.’
‘Really? I was told you’d made clothes for her. Perhaps you dealt with the gentleman who bought them. A Colonel Tanner?’
Madame Delors obviously knew a thing or two about what one did and didn’t say to gentlemen asking questions about other gentlemen’s ladies. ‘I ‘ave many gentlemen coming to buy clothes for their ladies, monsieur. But they do not always give me the names of the ladies they are buying for.’
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Gail Whitiker
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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