Читать книгу Revenge In Regency Society: Brushed by Scandal / Courting Miss Vallois - Gail Whitiker, Gail Whitiker - Страница 13

At the conclusion of an exceptional meal, the baroness led the ladies into the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to enjoy masculine conversation, good cigars and several fine bottles of port. Barrington, who enjoyed these sessions more for the information they provided than for the chance to socialise, accepted the offer of a light from Viscount Hayle, who settled into the chair next to his. Noticing the man’s obvious boredom, Barrington said, ‘Is the evening not to your liking, Hayle?’

Hayle slanted him a mocking glance. ‘I get tired of listening to men like Bessmel and Richards bickering over political situations about which they know nothing. It’s a waste of everyone’s time and, frankly, I’d rather spend the night gambling or in the arms of a mistress.’

Barrington drew on his cigar, taking a moment to study the other man through the rising curl of smoke. ‘I’m surprised Mr Rand didn’t come with you tonight. I thought he usually accompanied your sister to these kinds of events.’

‘He was invited but, thankfully, he declined,’ Hayle said tersely. ‘It’s bad enough having him around the house all the time, let alone being forced into society with him.’

‘You do not care for Mr Rand?’

‘Would you?’ Hayle fired back.

Barrington was startled by the flash of raw emotion he saw in the other man’s eyes and wondered if Hayle knew how much of himself he had given away. ‘I’m not sure I know what you mean.’

‘Then you’re the only one who doesn’t,’ Hayle muttered. ‘All you have to do is look at Rand to know he’s no more my father’s godson than he is the bloody Prince of Wales’s.’

So, that was it. The son suspected the connection and wasn’t in the least happy about it. Barrington tapped ash from the end of his cigar. ‘I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t heard rumours, but I don’t believe anything’s been substantiated.’

‘Of course not. My father’s the only one who can substantiate rumours like that and you can be damn sure he’s not going to. Not now that he’s met the baroness.’ Hayle’s eyes narrowed as he glared at his father sitting farther up the table. ‘It’s embarrassing the way he carries on with her. God knows, he’s old enough to be her father.’

‘I take it you do not care for the fact that the earl and the baroness seem to like one another?’

‘I do not. It’s unseemly the way he follows her around, hanging on every word she says. He might just as well come out and ask her to go to bed with him.’

Barrington reached for his glass of port, intrigued by the depth of vitriol pouring from the other man. ‘I think you judge them too harshly. Your father is an amiable gentleman and the baroness is an exceedingly gracious woman. And as they are both widowed, why should they not enjoy one another’s company?’

‘There is a considerable difference in their ages.’

Barrington shrugged. ‘The baroness can’t be any more than twenty-nine or thirty, and your father is, what … in his late forties? There are far wider gaps in age between husbands and wives in society.’

Hayle slowly began to smile. ‘Yes. Like Lord Yew and his wife. But then, I suspect you already know all about that.’

Barrington inhaled deeply on his cigar. Hayle was bound to know about Peregrine’s folly, but he was damned if he’d be the one to shed any light on the matter. When it came to secrets, he was as adept at keeping them as he was at prying them out of others.

Fortunately, Hayle didn’t appear to be in need of an answer. ‘How much do you think that sapphire necklace is worth?’ he asked instead.

Barrington’s shrug was carefully non-committal. ‘I’m no expert, but, given the size and quality of the stones, I should think it considerable.’

‘Enough to keep a man in brandy and cigars for the rest of his life, I’ll wager.’

‘Probably. How fortunate that you and I need not worry about such things.’

Hayle snorted. ‘Speak for yourself.’

Barrington’s gaze sharpened. ‘You are your father’s heir.’

‘Oh, yes. But as he’s still in his forties and hale and hearty, I’m not likely to inherit any time soon,’ Hayle said sourly. ‘So, what’s your connection with the baroness?’

‘We have no connection, per se,’ Barrington said, aware that the man changed subjects more often than a lady changed her mind. ‘We were introduced by your sister at Lady Bessmel’s reception and have seen each other at a few society gatherings since, but nothing beyond that.’ He gazed at the earl’s son through a fine wisp of smoke. ‘I understand it was your sister’s idea to launch the baroness into society.’

‘Of course it was. Anna loves to manage other people’s lives. Personally, I think her time would be better spent smoothing her way into some man’s bed,’ Hayle said in a disagreeable tone, adding when he saw Barrington’s stern look, ‘After she marries him, of course. Anna would never do anything as irresponsible as compromise herself. But it’s long past time she was wed. Father’s too soft. He won’t force her into an arranged marriage, even though he knows it would be best for all concerned.’

‘I’m sure your sister would have no problem finding a husband if that was something she truly wanted,’ Barrington said, careful to keep the annoyance from his voice. ‘She is an exceedingly beautiful woman.’

‘But meddlesome and outspoken,’ Hayle remarked. ‘Men don’t like that in a wife. They want quiet, biddable women who know their place. Anna is neither biddable nor accommodating, as I’m sure you know from the brief time you’ve spent with her. Mind, I’ve heard her mention your name more than once and that’s saying something. Better watch yourself, Parker, or she’ll have you in the parson’s mousetrap before you can turn around.’ He drained the contents of his glass, then signalled the waiter for a refill. ‘So, I hear you’re giving a fencing demonstration at Angelo’s this week.’

Barrington’s hand tightened on his glass. ‘No. I am giving Lord Yew’s son a lesson. In private.’

‘I heard you were going to fight.’

‘You heard wrong.’

‘But why wouldn’t you fight?’ Hayle asked. ‘You’re reputed to be the finest swordsman in London. Why not show everyone that you are?’

‘Because that’s not what I do.’

‘Then why are you giving Yew’s boy a lesson?’

‘I agreed to it as a favour to the marquess. I also happen to like Lord Gerald. He shows a great deal of promise with the foil and he is anxious to better himself.’

‘Maybe, but you’ll never make a fighter of him. He’s too soft,’ Hayle said. ‘He hasn’t the heart for it. You’d do far better sparring with me. At least I’d give you a run for your money. So what do you say? Are you up for it?’

Barrington’s expression was deceptively benign. He was used to cocky young men challenging him. At one time, he’d encouraged it, fond of pitting his skills against all comers. But that game had lost its appeal years ago.

He was about to say as much when the door to the dining room opened and one of the younger maids walked in. He hadn’t noticed her earlier in the evening, which meant she likely hadn’t been in the room. He would certainly have remembered her if she had. She was somewhere in her early twenties, with dark brown hair and rather startling green eyes—

Barrington stiffened. Green eyes and dark brown hair. Was it possible he’d found Colonel Tanner’s elusive Miss Paisley? If so, he wasn’t surprised that the Colonel had asked him to look for her. Though petite, she had a lush, curving figure that was nicely displayed in the black gown and white apron. Her face was heart shaped and delicate and she had a truly lovely smile. But equally aware of having drawn the attention of nearly every man in the room, her cheeks turned bright pink as she made her way towards the butler, who was standing in the corner overseeing the proceedings.

A whispered conversation followed, during which the butler’s heavy eyebrows drew together in annoyance. Then, with a flick of his hand, he dismissed her.

As she headed back in their direction, Barrington noticed Hayle doing a leisurely appraisal of her charms. Then, slowly raising his glass, he watched her over the rim and when she was no more than five feet away, coughed. Not discreetly, as a gentleman might, but in a manner that was guaranteed to draw attention.

The girl glanced in their direction—and her step faltered.

Barrington heard her breath catch and saw her eyes widen as they met those of the man sitting next to him. Beside him, Hayle just smiled. Coldly. Like a spider watching a fly, knowing it was doomed.

The butler, noticing her standing in the middle of the room, said sharply, ‘Be off with you, girl!’

She went, all but running to the door. Hayle turned away, seemingly uninterested. ‘Bloody endless evening,’ he muttered into his glass.

But the girl didn’t leave. Barrington saw her hesitate by the door, saw her turn around to take one last look at Hayle, and the expression in her eyes said it all.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Barrington remarked, drawing deeply on his cigar. ‘Seems to me it’s all in how you look at it.’

Anna was seated at the pianoforte playing an air by Bach when the drawing-room door opened and the gentlemen filed in. She knew the piece well enough not to be flustered by their arrival and kept on playing, watching with interest as they took their various seats and settled into conversation with the ladies. Her father stopped to chat with Lady Bessmel, but eventually ended up at Julia’s side. His face was flushed and he was smiling. No doubt the result of an extra glass of port after dinner.

Edward spoke briefly to Lady Lydia Winston, but, judging from the expression on her face, the conversation was not at all to her liking. She stiffly got up and walked away. Edward just laughed.

‘I was going to ask if I might turn the pages for you,’ Sir Barrington said, quietly appearing at her side. ‘But since it’s obvious you play from memory, I doubt you are in need of my help.’

The glow of his smile warmed her. ‘Nevertheless, it is kind of you to offer, Sir Barrington.’

‘Kindness had nothing to do with it. I was looking for an excuse to talk to you.’

Anna was tempted to ask why he felt the need of an excuse, but the teasing quip died on her lips when she saw the way he was looking down at her. ‘About something in particular?’

‘Of course.’ He stared a moment longer, before turning his attention back to the room.

Anna kept her eyes on the keyboard, waiting for her breathing to settle. Would it always be like this? Was she destined to feel this trembling excitement every time Barrington drew near? She certainly hoped not. It wouldn’t bode well for their friendship if she did.

She cast a sideways glance at him and knew he was taking it all in. Making mental lists about the people and situations that intrigued him. Watching. Always watching.

‘It must get tiresome,’ she said at length. ‘Always having to watch the behaviour of others.’

He turned back to smile at her, one eyebrow raised in amusement. ‘That depends on your point of view. Some people spend their entire lives studying the behaviour of others. Wanting to know what their friends and acquaintances are doing. It’s called being nosy and society suffers from it excessively.’

Her lips twitched. ‘That’s quite true, but what you do is entirely different.’

‘Why would you say so?’

‘Because you don’t watch people with the intention of catching them doing something wrong. You watch with a view to catalogue it all for future reference. You notice who they speak to and who they ignore, if they drink too much or not at all, and if they dance with that person and not this one.’

‘You make me sound rather devious,’ he observed.

‘No. Just observant. Something that probably serves you well given the nature of your … occupation.’

The piece of music came to an end and Anna rose to the polite applause of the guests. Miss Constantine was to play next, and as that young lady moved forwards to take her place at the piano, Anna dropped back and fell in beside Barrington.

‘Did I detect a note of censure in your voice just then?’ he asked as they slowly walked away from the instrument.

Did he? Anna didn’t like to think she was revealing too much of herself, but with him, it wasn’t always easy to know. ‘I have the feeling, Sir Barrington, that one is never entirely safe around you. You see a great deal without ever giving the appearance of actually looking. That makes you dangerous.’

‘Only to those with something to hide. The innocent have no reason to fear me.’ His eyes found hers and held them captive. ‘I trust you do not find me dangerous, Lady Annabelle?’

‘Danger comes in many forms. I suspect knowing a man like you does not come without risks.’

‘Life does not come without risks,’ he said softly. ‘But you’re right. A man like myself is always more of a target, as are the people who associate with me.’

Thinking he was being overly dramatic, Anna smiled and said, ‘In that case, you’d best warn Miss Erickson to keep her distance.’

‘Miss Erickson?’

‘Miss Sofia Erickson. I happen to know she is very fond of you.’

Barrington said, ‘I’m not sure I know her.’

‘Of course you do. Eldest daughter of Viscount Oswell and recently returned from visiting her aunt in Edinburgh. She made her come out this Season and has already been acknowledged as one of its greatest successes. She speaks French and Italian fluently, is an accomplished rider, and an exceptional singer.’

A smile ruffled his mouth. ‘And have you had occasion to save the young lady from herself?’

‘Good Lord, no.’ The sensual curve of his lips brought a series of highly inappropriate thoughts to mind, but Anna forced herself to ignore them. ‘She is one of the most intelligent young women I’ve ever met. She is mindful of the proprieties and quite capable of telling a gentleman to watch his manners if she feels he is out of line.’

‘Tell me, how do you come to be so involved in the lives of all these young women?’ Barrington asked curiously as they sat down together on the velvet settee. ‘Surely your father would wish you to pay more attention to your own future than chasing around after everyone else’s?’

Anna felt the familiar warmth creep into her cheeks—an annoyingly common occurrence since meeting this man. ‘One can do both at the same time. Helping someone else navigate the path towards marriage does not mean I cannot walk the path myself.’

‘But if you are too busy looking out for the welfare of others, how can you see to your own?’

‘I hardly think I am doing one to the exclusion of the other,’ Anna said defensively. ‘Besides, what I do for these girls is important. All too often they find themselves swept up in the emotion of the moment and don’t stop to think about the repercussions.’

‘And so you step in,’ he said softly. ‘Like you did with Mercy Banks and Fiona Whitfield, and God knows how many others, in an attempt to save them from themselves.’

‘It is all very well for you to mock me, Sir Barrington, but you cannot deny that—’ Anna broke off to stare at him. ‘How did you know I was involved with Fiona Whitfield?’

‘Do you really need ask?’

‘Yes, I fear I must. Fiona’s mother and father were adamant that word of what happened to Fiona not leak out. I gave them my word that I would say nothing and, since the young man was sent abroad, I don’t see how you could possibly be aware of what took place.’

‘As it happens, I was making enquiries into the activities of Miss Whitfield’s uncle,’ Barrington told her. ‘I learned of your association with the family at that time. And though I did not delve into the particulars of Miss Whitfield’s situation, I did learn of your involvement with her whilst speaking to another family member.’

Anna gasped. ‘Someone else knew what happened to Fiona?’

‘I’m afraid so. But, like you, they were sworn to secrecy. And it worked out well enough in the end. She married Lord Priestley’s son earlier this year and I understand they are very happy together.’

‘Yes, thank goodness. It could have turned out so badly for her, and all because of that despicable man.’ Anna sighed. ‘It really isn’t fair, you know. A man may tempt a woman with honeyed words and longing looks, yet she is the one who must behave with propriety at all times. If he manages to steal a kiss, he is not thought of any the less, whereas she is deemed to have loose morals.’

‘Sadly, it has always been thus,’ Barrington remarked. ‘Society makes the rules and we must obey.’

‘No. Men make the rules and then demand that women follow them. It is no wonder we sometimes falter.’

She saw the surprise in his face. ‘Am I to assume from your comment, Lady Annabelle, that you yourself have faltered in the past?’

‘That is none of your business!’ she exclaimed.

‘No, I don’t suppose it is.’ He laughed softly, the sound sending shivers up her spine. ‘But your reputation doesn’t suggest a woman who would be easily led astray. I find my curiosity piqued at the thought of you having ever done anything wrong.’

‘Then you will just have to live with piqued curiosity,’ Anna said, abruptly standing up.

‘Anna, wait, I meant no offence,’ he said, likewise getting to his feet. ‘If I’ve inadvertently touched a nerve, I apologise. It was never my intention to hurt you.’

Anna shook her head, too distracted by unpleasant memories of the past to notice his lapse into familiarity. ‘And I did not mean to be abrupt, Sir Barrington, but I have no wish to talk about what happened in my past.’

‘I understand. We’ve all made mistakes, some worse than others. But given your untarnished reputation and excellent standing in society, it’s obvious your mistake, if that’s what it was, did not serve as your undoing.’

‘It could have,’ Anna whispered, ‘had a friend not come along when she had.’

And that was the tragic truth of her brief flirtation with the Honourable Anthony Colder. As a naïve seventeen-year-old, Anna had all but thrown herself at the god-like creature, believing the smiles he had bestowed upon her were the result of a genuine and mutual affection. Little had she known that his interest had more to do with her father being the Earl of Cambermere than it did with any charms she might possess herself. Anthony had been an avid social climber, as well as the most handsome man she had ever met. With those laughing blue eyes and a smile that set butterflies dancing in her stomach, she would have given him anything he’d asked for. And if he’d had his chance, he would have taken it.

Mrs Mary Fielding had known that, too. A twice-married woman wise to the ways of men like Anthony Colder, Mrs Fielding had seen the growing infatuation between the two young people and had guessed at its source, being more familiar with Anthony’s background than most. She had known of his gambling debts, his easy way with women, and his devil-may-care attitude. And on that evening when Anthony, having drunk too much brandy and feeling far too sure of himself, had caught Anna alone in the gazebo by the lake and torn her gown in a boorish attempt at seduction, Mrs Fielding had appeared and promptly sent him packing. She had stayed with Anna until the worst of her grief had passed, and then, after drying Anna’s tears, she had lent her a shawl to cover the tear and had sent her regrets back to their hostess, explaining that Lady Annabelle was unwell and that she was seeing her home in her own carriage.

It had been a painful lesson, but one Anna had learned well. She had gone home that evening and made no mention of the event to anyone. She regretted having told her parents and her brother of her affection for Anthony, but after that night she never mentioned his name again. Nor, thankfully, did she see him. Mrs Fielding informed her not long after that he had left the country.

Anna had never been so glad to see the back of anyone in her life. And though she thought it was impossible for her to blush any deeper, she was wrong. Even after all this time, her face burned at the memory of her stupid, stupid mistake.

‘Tell me what happened, Lady Annabelle,’ Barrington said in a low voice. ‘Your secrets are safe with me. I know, better than most, the value of discretion.’

‘Yes, I’m sure you do,’ Anna said quietly. ‘But the only way to completely ensure one’s secrets is by keeping them entirely to oneself.’

‘I’m sorry you cannot bring yourself to trust me.’

She looked up at him, surprised that he would mention trust in such a situation. ‘I do not know you, Sir Barrington.

And the trust of which you speak is generally reserved for relationships between husbands and wives.’

‘I’ve always thought that bonds of trust can exist between friends as well as lovers.’

‘Perhaps, but it takes time to establish that kind of bond,’ she said, sounding flustered even to her own ears. ‘You are a single gentleman and I a single lady. It isn’t the thing for us to … share secrets of an intimate nature. But if you were looking for a wife, you would do well to consider Miss Erickson. Apart from her many other attributes, she is a genuinely nice young woman.’

‘What makes you think I’m looking for a wife?’ he asked.

‘Why would you not be? You just told me that we must abide by society’s rules, and society dictates that men and women should marry. Is that not the purpose of these gatherings? To place one in the path of the other?’

‘I suppose it is.’ He hesitated a moment before adding, ‘But I think it only right to tell you that Miss Erickson would not be of interest to me, even if I were of a mind to marry.’

If he were of a mind to marry? ‘Are you telling me you intend to remain single?’ Anna asked, eyebrows lifting in shock.

‘That was my plan, yes.’

‘But what of your obligation to your family?’

‘I fear the task of continuing the Parker name will fall to a distant cousin with whom I am not acquainted,’ Barrington said blandly. ‘As to the obligation owed, I am more concerned with the welfare of the lady with whom I might wish to spend my life than I am to the furthering of my ancestral line.’

‘Then I would have to say you are unique in your thinking,’ Anna said. ‘Most society gentlemen are concerned with their family name and marry to beget an heir.’

‘Yes, but you should know by now that my life is not that of a typical society gentleman. My reputation is such that people come to me when they wish to learn things about others. And because I ask questions people have no wish to be asked, I continuously put myself at risk.’

‘Surely you exaggerate the danger.’

‘I do not.’ His smile held secrets she could not begin to imagine. ‘The people I usually investigate are not the honourable men you meet in society, Lady Annabelle. They are scoundrels and blackmailers, men who operate beyond the boundaries of the law and who are completely without conscience. When I get too close, they get nervous. And when I convict them, they look for retribution.’

‘But surely not of a life-threatening kind!’

He shrugged, as though trying to make light of it. ‘There have been attempts on my life in the past and I have no reason to believe there will not be attempts in the future. The easiest way to ensure my silence is to eliminate the possibility of my saying anything at all. That said, I will not knowingly put anyone else in danger.’

‘But if these men have issues with you, why should you fear for the safety of those close to you?’

‘Because there is no better way to strike back at me than to hurt someone I care about.’ They had walked, by tacit agreement, onto the balcony. Barrington rested his arms against the stone balustrade and stared down into the garden. ‘And who could be dearer to me than the woman to whom I would give my name … and my heart.’

Anna felt her mouth go dry. Strange that the breeze should suddenly feel so cool. Was her body overly warm? They were standing quite close; close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. ‘So you would choose to live … without a woman to share your life,’ she whispered, ‘rather than expose your wife to possible harm?’

‘In a heartbeat.’ He turned his head so that his eyes bored into hers. ‘How could I say I loved someone if I didn’t care about their safety? If the thought of something happening to them didn’t tear me apart?’

Anna shivered. ‘You could give up what you’re doing. You are a gentleman. You have no need to work.’

‘And what would I do with myself then?’ He reached out and took her hand in his. ‘I have servants to run my estate and stewards and secretaries to see to my affairs. But a man must have something of his own or what reason has he for getting up each day?’

As he spoke, his fingers caressed the palm of her hand, smoothing the tender skin at the base of her wrist. His touch was light, non-threatening—and it turned Anna’s world upside down.

She closed her eyes, the sounds of the room beyond fading into the distance. She knew she should pull her hand free, but she was neither willing nor anxious to do so. His thumb was painting circles on her skin, lulling her with a touch.

‘We get up because … that is what the world expects of us,’ she said huskily. Dear Lord, what was he doing? Not content with massaging her palm and wrist, his thumb was continuing its treacherous voyage along the inside of her arm, causing disturbing quakes in her sanity. ‘Surely there is … a kind of security, perhaps even of comfort, in the carrying out of our daily task?’

‘Ah, but there are far sweeter pleasures to be enjoyed than that, my lady,’ Barrington murmured as he brushed the back of his free hand against her cheek. ‘The smoothness of a woman’s skin, the softness of her hair.’ He gently twined a lock around his finger and held it to his face, inhaling the delicate fragrance. ‘Finer than silk and more precious than gold.’ Then, releasing it, he gently grasped her chin between thumb and forefinger and tilted her face up. ‘Last but not least, the sweetness of her lips …’

Anna had been kissed before … but never like this. Never by a man whose touch was enough to make her long to release her tenuous hold on respectability. His mouth moved over hers slowly, thoughtfully, shattering her resolve and filling her with a desperate need to be loved. Surely she deserved this. Surely, after everything she’d been through, she was entitled to some small measure of love and affection for herself?

As he deepened the kiss, Anna raised her arms, twining them around his neck, wanting to be close and then closer still. His tongue teased her lips apart and heat poured through her body, flowing like molten fire through her veins. She moaned, feeling desire rise and want settle low in her belly. Ah, the sweet, sweet pleasure …

But the pleasure was bittersweet. Even as his arms tightened around her, Anna knew it could come to nothing. Barrington had no intention of marrying. He’d just told her as much. And if he wasn’t willing to offer marriage, what they were doing now was not only wrong, it was self-destructive. She wanted more from him. Much more than he was willing to give. And in the end, she would be the one who walked away with her heart in ruins. And therein lay the true sadness of the situation. The one man with whom she could have foreseen a future was the one man with whom it would never be.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ she whispered, breaking free of his arms.

‘Anna, what’s wrong?’ he asked huskily.

‘What’s wrong? I’m wrong,’ she whispered. ‘This is wrong. Because right now, I’m no better than the foolish young women whose reputations I fight to protect.’

‘That’s ridiculous!’

‘Is it? You just told me you have no intention of marrying, yet I allowed myself to be held in your arms and kissed like any cheap whore. What is that if not the height of stupidity?’

Anna flung at him. ‘At least Mercy Banks was hopeful of a marriage resulting from her liaison with Lieutenant Blokker! You’ve made it clear there is no such happy ending in sight.’

His face darkened, his breathing heavy and uneven. ‘I said that because I don’t want you harbouring false hope. But it doesn’t change the way I feel about you.’

‘And is that supposed to make me feel better? Am I supposed to be comforted by the knowledge that you desire me, yet have no intention of offering marriage?’ Anna shook her head. ‘There is a word for that kind of relationship, Sir Barrington, and it is not flattering.’

‘It was never my intention to compromise you, Anna,’ he said quietly. ‘I care too much for you.’

‘My name is Lady Annabelle. And if you care so much for me, leave me alone!’

Without waiting for his answer, Anna picked up her skirts and fled. Angry tears blurred her vision as she ran down the length of the balcony. Idiot! She’d made a fool of herself again, allowing herself to be held and kissed as though she were a naïve young schoolgirl. She, who prided herself on knowing all the games and all the excuses, had let herself be taken in. And by doing so, Barrington had undermined everything she believed in. When she had allowed him to kiss her, she had wanted to believe that it meant something. But it was obvious to anyone with an iota of sense that it meant absolutely nothing. Sophisticated Barrington might be, but he was still a man, and when it came right down to it, he wanted the same thing as every other man. Pleasure without commitment. Love without obligation. The very things she kept warning her young ladies to avoid.

The breeze came up and, once again, Anna felt chilled. She hadn’t stopped to fetch her wrap before venturing outside, but neither was she about to run back into the drawing room now.

Observant eyes would see the evidence of her tears, recognise the flush in her cheeks and put their own interpretation on the events—and nothing on earth was going to persuade her to tell anyone what had really happened.

She glanced back over her shoulder, wondering if Barrington had followed her. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed when she saw that he hadn’t. All right, so she’d made a mistake. It wasn’t the first time she’d done so, but at least this time she was old enough to recognise it for herself. Barrington had made his feelings for her clear. The episode would not be repeated. From now on, she would treat him exactly the same way he treated everyone else. Coolly. Professionally. Without emotion. He would never make her cry again.

It was a good ten minutes before Anna felt calm enough to venture back into the house. Not by the drawing room through which she’d left. That would be far too embarrassing, especially knowing that Barrington had gone back in only a short time ago. Instead, she walked to the end of the balcony and, finding another set of glass doors, tried the handle. Thankfully, it was unlocked and pushing it open, she walked into a small study—only to stop and gasp in shock.

Her brother and Julia’s maid were standing by the door, locked together in a passionate embrace. ‘Edward!’

At once, the pair sprang apart, but it was too late to disguise what they had been doing. The maid’s dark hair had come down around her shoulders, her gown was in disarray and her lips were red and swollen.

Embarrassed, Anna looked away. Obviously, her brother wasn’t above seducing pretty housemaids, whether they be his own or someone else’s. Refusing to meet his eyes, she murmured, ‘Excuse me’, and then immediately made her way to the door. Edward said nothing, but she heard his mocking laughter following her through the door. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. Her brother had once again proven himself the immoral creature she believed him to be.

And what about you? the little voice nagged. Are you so much better? So much more virtuous?

Anna felt her face burn with humiliation. No, perhaps she wasn’t. She kept remembering the passionate encounter she’d just shared with Barrington, the shameless manner in which she had allowed him to kiss her. Oh, yes, she’d let him kiss her. She wasn’t about to lay the blame for what had happened entirely at his door. He was gentleman enough that if she had asked him to stop, he would have—but she hadn’t done that. She’d wanted to know how it would feel to kiss him. To watch his head bend slowly towards her, and to feel his mouth close intimately over hers.

It had been everything she’d expected—and more.

But Barrington was no more likely to become her husband than Julia’s maid was to become Edward’s wife. They had both been indulging in impossible fantasies.

‘Let he who is without sin cast the first stone …’

A sobering thought. As Anna made her way back to the drawing room, she realised that the proverbial stone would never find its way to her hand.