Brushed by Scandal (5 page)

‘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.’