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Brushed By Scandal
Gail Whitiker
WHAT WILL SHE RISK FOR LOVE?Lady Annabelle Durst may be beautiful, but at four-and-twenty she’s firmly – and contentedly! – on the shelf. She’s learnt there’s nothing more important than protecting her heart against the perils of love. Then Anna’s family is embroiled in the scandal of the season, with only Sir Barrington Parker to turn to.He has a reputation for exposing society’s most disreputable secrets, and to save her family’s honour oh, so sensible Anna will do anything – even risk her reputation – to persuade this dangerous man to help…



‘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?’
Author Note
It’s always a treat when an idea for a new story comes out of a book I haven’t even finished writing. And that’s exactly what happened with BRUSHED BY SCANDAL.
Lady Annabelle Durst and Sir Barrington Parker both made their debuts in COURTING MISS VALLOIS, and although they never met I knew they would be drawn to one another. After all, they were both intelligent, attractive people, who liked nothing better than to help others get out of or avoid potentially embarrassing or damaging situations.
But what if that potentially damaging situation happened to one of them? How would they feel about being investigated by the other person? Worse, could they ever bring themselves to love that other person if the crime they threatened to expose had the power to destroy everything they held most dear?
I hope you enjoy Barrington and Anna’s love story. I had great fun writing it.

About the Author
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
Previous novels by this author:
A MOST IMPROPER PROPOSAL* (#ulink_0896eb13-e5dd-5f7a-806b-8e13ca75d1f4)
THE GUARDIAN’S DILEMMA* (#ulink_0896eb13-e5dd-5f7a-806b-8e13ca75d1f4)
A SCANDALOUS COURTSHIP
A MOST UNSUITABLE BRIDE
A PROMISE TO RETURN
COURTING MISS VALLOIS
* (#ulink_fc3fed86-1c7a-5ab9-b9c7-5c1487485a69)part of The Steepwood Scandal mini-series
Brushed

by Scandal

Gail Whitiker






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
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
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
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
‘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
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.

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