Читать книгу Brushed By Scandal - Gail Whitiker - Страница 10

‘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.