Brushed by Scandal (6 page)

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.

A
nna 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.’