Brushed By Scandal

‘Ah, I see.’ Barrington rapped his fingers on the desk. ‘Wrong side of the blanket.’

‘Possible, though no one’s come right out and said it.’

‘Of course not. Cambermere’s a powerful man. If he did father an illegitimate child years ago and now chooses to have the boy come live with him, no one’s going to tell him he can’t. Especially given that his own wife died last year.’

‘But there are other children living in the house,’ Crew pointed out. ‘Legitimate children who won’t take kindly to their father foisting one of his by-blows on them.’

Especially the son and heir, Barrington reflected grimly. Viscount Hayle was not the kind of man to suffer such a slight to his family name. If he came to suspect the true nature of Rand’s paternity, he could make things very difficult for all concerned. So difficult, in fact, that Rand might hightail it back to the country, and that was something Barrington had to avoid. He needed to find out as much as possible about the young man before news of his liaison with Lady Yew went public—because there was no doubt in Barrington’s mind that it would. The marchioness wasn’t known for being discreet. Her list of lovers was a popular topic of conversation at parties, and the fact that this time, her husband had chosen to make an example of the young man would definitely make for scintillating conversation over wine and cards.

‘You’ve gone quiet,’ Crew said. ‘Mulling over how best to break the news to dear Peregrine’s unsuspecting family?’

‘As a matter of fact, I was.’ Barrington got to his feet and walked slowly towards the long window. ‘I met Lady Annabelle Durst at Lady Montby’s reception the other week.’

‘Ah, the beautiful Anna,’ Crew murmured appreciatively. ‘Truly one of society’s diamonds. I cannot imagine why she’s still single.’

Barrington snorted. ‘Likely because she’s too busy trying to prevent silly young women from ruining themselves.’

‘An admirable undertaking, though knowing how many silly young women there are in London, I don’t imagine it leaves much time for looking after her own future.’

‘Virtually none,’ Barrington said, his thoughts returning to the lady whose existence he had first learned about during an investigation he’d undertaken the previous year. It had not involved Lady Annabelle directly, but had focused instead on the uncle of one of the girls she had been trying to help. As a result of that investigation, however, Barrington had become familiar with her name and with her propensity for helping naïve young girls navigate their way through the choppy waters of first love.

Always from a distance, of course. Given his own self-imposed boundaries, Barrington knew better than to risk getting too close to her, but he was strongly aware of her appeal and smart enough to know that she could be dangerous for that reason alone. He’d met a lot of women in his life, but there was something about Lady Annabelle Durst that set her apart from all the rest. Something rare. Something precious. Something indefinable …

‘Well, if you’re going to sit there all afternoon and stare into space, I’m leaving.’ Crew drained his glass and set it on the desk. ‘I am expected for tea with Lady Yew and her daughter; if you have nothing more to tell me, I may as well be on my way.’

‘Fine. But while you’re sipping tea and whispering endearments

in Lady Rebecca’s ear, see if you can find out anything else about her mother’s relationship with Rand,’ Barrington said. ‘The more I know about the situation, the better off I’ll be when it comes time to confront him with it.’

Crew unhurriedly rose. ‘I’ll ask, but, given the extent of the marquess’s displeasure, I doubt you’ll hear Rebecca or her mother mention the name Peregrine Rand with favour again.’

Anna was reading Shakespeare when the door to the drawing room opened. Leaving Hamlet on the page, she looked up to see their butler standing in the doorway. ‘Yes, Milford?’

‘Excuse me, my lady, but a gentleman has called and is asking to see Mr Rand.’

Anna glanced at the clock on the mantel. Half past eight. Somewhat late for a social call. ‘Did you tell him Mr Rand was from home?’

‘I did, but he said it was a matter of some urgency and wondered if you knew what time he might be home.’

‘Lord knows, I certainly don’t.’ With a sigh, Anna set her book aside. ‘Did the gentleman leave his card?’

Milford bowed and silently proffered the tray. Anna took the card and read the name. Sir Barrington Parker. How strange. She knew the man by reputation rather than by sight. A wealthy baronet with an impressive home, he was, by all accounts, a cultured, educated and exceedingly charming man who was also reputed to be one of London’s finest swordsmen. The story went that he’d spent several years in Paris training under a legendary French master; when his father’s death had compelled him to return to England, Sir Barrington had been besieged by the pinks of society asking him to teach them his skills. With very few exceptions, he had refused every request.

Why, then, would he be here now, asking after a man with whom he was unlikely to have even the slightest acquaintance? ‘Ask him to come in, Milford. Then inform my father that we have a visitor.’

The butler bowed. ‘Very good, my lady.’

The wait was not long. Moments later, the door opened again and Milford announced, ‘Sir Barrington Parker.’

Anna rose as the butler withdrew, but the moment the baronet arrived she stopped dead, totally unprepared for the sight of the man standing in her doorway. ‘You!’

‘Good evening, Lady Annabelle.’ Sir Barrington Parker strolled into the room, as impeccably turned out as he had been the night of Lady Montby’s reception. His dark jacket fit superbly across a pair of broad shoulders, his buff-coloured breeches outlined strong, muscular thighs and his cravat was simply yet elegantly tied. ‘I told you an occasion would present itself whereby our introduction could be made in a more acceptable manner.’

‘You did indeed,’ Anna said, struggling to recover from her surprise. She’d thought about him several times since meeting him at Lady Montby’s, and, while she’d found him a powerful presence there, he was, in the small confines of the drawing room, even more compelling. ‘I simply did not think it would be in my own home or that the illustrious Sir Barrington Parker would turn out to be the gentleman with whom I exchanged opinions the other night.’

‘Illustrious?’ His beautiful mouth lifted in a disturbingly sensual smile. ‘I fear you are confusing me with someone else.’

‘On the contrary, rumour has it that you are an excellent fencer and an unparalleled shot. And that you’ve uncovered more than your fair share of secrets about those who move in the upper reaches of society.’

His smile was indulgent, much like that of a teacher addressing an errant pupil. ‘You and I both know how foolish it is to put stock in rumours, Lady Annabelle. One never knows how or why they start and most often they are proven to be wrong.’

‘Do you deny that it was you who exposed Lord Bosker as an embezzler?’ Anna said. ‘Or that you just happened upon that letter naming his fine, upstanding cousin, Mr Teetham, as his accomplice?’

‘I tend to think the timing was, for the most part, coincidental,’ Sir Barrington said, careful to avoid a direct answer. ‘Their crimes would have come to light soon enough. They grew careless, too confident in their own ability to deceive.’

‘But you were the one who drew attention to what they were doing,’ Anna persisted. ‘Had you not, they would most likely have continued in their games and who knows what other crimes they would have perpetrated. But forgive my manners, Sir Barrington. Pray be seated.’

‘Thank you. And while your confidence in my ability is flattering, I should tell you it is entirely misplaced.’ He glanced at the chairs arranged in front of the fireplace and settled into the wingback chair opposite the one upon which her book lay open. ‘There were other people involved in their arrest and to a far greater extent than myself. But, as we are talking about other people’s affairs, how did matters proceed between Miss Banks and Lieutenant Blokker after you and I parted company the other night?’

Surprised he would even remember the conversation, Anna managed a smile. ‘Remarkably well, all things considered. Lieutenant Blokker turned out to be a delightful young man and I realized, after speaking with him, that while the manner of his approach to Miss Banks left much to be desired, his intentions were strictly honourable.’

‘Ah yes, the ill-fated rendezvous in the garden,’ Sir Barrington mused. ‘Not the best thought out of plans, but thanks to you no harm came of it.’

‘And thanks to you, the two are now formally introduced and eager to begin a courtship,’ Anna said. ‘But I don’t suppose Miss Banks’s romantic escapades have anything to do with your reason for being here this evening.’

‘Regrettably, they do not. I was actually hoping to speak to your house guest, Mr Rand, but I understand he is from home.’

‘Yes, he is.’ Anna gazed at him, surprised to feel her heart beating a little faster than usual. Obviously she wasn’t used to being alone with such a disturbingly handsome man. ‘I wasn’t aware the two of you were acquainted.’

His dark brows arched ever so slightly. ‘Are you acquainted with all of Mr Rand’s friends and associates, Lady Annabelle?’

‘As a matter of fact, I am. Peregrine has only recently come to stay with us, and, given how anxious my father was that he become known in society, I took the liberty of including him in all of my social activities,’ Anna said. ‘That being the case, I think I can safely say that I do know with whom he is and is not acquainted. I have never heard him speak of you.’

Briefly, the gentleman smiled, but while it softened the lines of his face, it did nothing to lessen the intensity of the expression in his eyes. ‘I am not acquainted with Mr Rand, Lady Annabelle, nor is he with me,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve come here at the behest of another, on a matter of extreme urgency to both.’

‘An urgent matter?’

‘Yes. One I would prefer to discuss in private with the gentleman. Or, failing that, with your father, if he is at home.’

‘He is, Sir Barrington,’ Lord Cambermere said, walking into the room. ‘But if Edward has done something that warrants discussion—’

‘It is not Edward Sir Barrington wishes to speak to you about, Papa,’ Anna said calmly. ‘It is Peregrine. And there is no point in my giving you privacy since we both know Peregrine will tell me everything the three of you say the moment Sir Barrington leaves.’

‘He may not wish to tell you this,’ Sir Barrington said, slowly getting to his feet. ‘And I would prefer to speak to you about it in private, my Lord.’

Cambermere frowned. He was a tall, solidly built man with warm brown eyes, a ruddy complexion and dark hair that was just beginning to show signs of grey at the temples. His clothes were more suited to a country gentleman than a man about town, but now that his year of mourning was over, Anna was hopeful he might once again take up an interest in socialising, and, by necessity, his appearance.

‘Yes, I’m sure you would,’ the earl said. ‘But I have no doubt Anna speaks the truth about the boy’s repeating everything we say. He’s my godson, you see, and the two have become as thick as thieves in the short time they’ve been together. I’m surprised he’s gone out without her tonight. Still, he’s a quiet enough lad. I can’t imagine him doing anything that would be inappropriate for Anna to hear about.’

Anna could tell from the look on the baronet’s face that he was less than pleased with her father’s decision. Equally aware that trying to force the earl into a private interview was not the conduct of a gentleman, Sir Barrington merely shrugged those broad shoulders and said, ‘Very well, though you may wish to change your mind once I begin to relate the details of the situation. You see, not long ago, a titled gentleman came to see me with regards to a personal matter concerning his wife.’

‘His wife?’ The earl looked decidedly confused. ‘What has this to do with Peregrine?’

‘The gentleman suspected his wife of having an affair,’ Sir Barrington continued. ‘Naturally, he asked me to make enquiries as discreetly as possible and to keep the results similarly confidential. He knew I’d had some success in this area and I agreed to look into the matter for him and see what I could learn. Now, having discovered the identity of the gentleman, I felt it behoved me to hear his side of the story. That’s why I’m here. I regret to inform you, Lord Cambermere,’ Sir Barrington said quietly, ‘that the gentleman guilty of having an affair with the wife of a highly placed nobleman is none other than your godson, Mr Peregrine Rand.’

Chapter Three

‘Peregrine!’ Anna said on a gas. ‘You think Peregrine is having an affair with a married woman? But that’s impossible!’

‘The facts would indicate otherwise,’ Sir Barrington said. ‘But perhaps you would care to explain why you believe it to be so unlikely?’

‘Because he isn’t the type to get involved in something like that. In fact, I don’t think he’s ever even been involved with a woman. He is … a student of history,’ Anna said, needing to make him understand why his accusation was so totally misplaced. ‘Old bones and ancient ruins hold far more appeal for Peregrine than would the charms of the most practised seductress.’

At that, Sir Barrington’s mouth lifted in a smile. ‘I doubt Lord Yew would appreciate his wife being referred to as a practised seductress, but—’

‘Lord Yew!’ Cambermere interrupted. ‘Dear God, don’t tell me you’re talking about the marchioness?’

‘I am.’

‘Damn!’ The earl muttered something under his breath, then abruptly turned to his daughter. ‘I think under the circumstances it would be best if Sir Barrington and I were to continue this conversation in private, Anna. There’s nothing here you need to be involved with.’

‘But why not? I already know the worst,’ Anna said. ‘And I stand by my claim that Peregrine is innocent of the charge.’

‘Unfortunately, I have evidence to the contrary,’ Sir Barrington put in. ‘And I do not intend to reveal that in front of you, no matter what your father says.’

‘Of course not,’ Cambermere mumbled. ‘Not fit for a lady’s ears, I’m sure. But I will have the details of it before the lad comes home.’

‘But, Papa—’

‘No, my dear. Sir Barrington and I will discuss this alone,’ her father said firmly. ‘When Peregrine gets home, have Milford send him straight to my study. And you are not to speak with him beforehand.’

Anna said nothing as the two men left the room because, in truth, she didn’t know what to say. Peregrine involved in a scandalous affair with a married marchioness? Impossible! Even if he were to lift his head out of his books long enough to look at a woman, it certainly wouldn’t be to one married to another man. He had a stronger moral code than that, of that she was sure.

And yet Sir Barrington Parker claimed to have proof of the affair. What kind of proof could he have, and how had Peregrine come to be accused of this wretched undertaking in the first place? Had Lord Yew a grudge against him? Perhaps as the result of a card game or a wager? Had they had words over some political issue, or a difference of opinion over the current government’s handling of some matter of concern to both of them?

There had to be something. Anna refused to believe that Peregrine would ever stoop to something as shoddy as an affair. He might have been raised in the country, but everything about his behaviour thus far convinced her that his parents had instilled good moral values in him.

Why should that change simply because he was visiting London for the first time?

‘And you are quite sure of your facts?’ Cambermere said unhappily.

‘Quite.’ Barrington walked unhurriedly around the earl’s study. It was a comfortable room—masculine yet not oppressively so, with large leather chairs, several glass-fronted bookcases and a large mahogany desk, the surface of which was covered with papers and estate ledgers. Tall windows bracketed a portrait of the fifth Earl of Cambermere, the present earl’s father, and on the wall opposite hung one of a lady Barrington suspected of being the late Lady Cambermere.

Obviously, the earl liked looking at his wife’s portrait. Perhaps she’d spent time with him here, keeping him company while he worked on the complexities of estate business. Certainly there was evidence of a woman’s touch in the room: the brass candlesticks on the side table; the throw cushions that picked up the dark blue of the curtains; the warmth of the Axminster carpet. All the small, homely things that turned a house into a home. All the things his own house was so noticeably lacking.

‘I never lay charges without being sure, my Lord,’ Barrington said. ‘It wastes time and inflicts unnecessary pain on the innocent. Mr Rand’s activities were confirmed by a family member who saw the two enter Lady Yew’s chamber and by a friend of mine who happened to be in the house at the same time as Rand. He was quite specific about the details of Mr Rand’s visit, right up until the time he and the lady went upstairs arm in arm.’ Barrington turned to face the older man. ‘And regardless of whether or not what took place upstairs was of an intimate nature, you know as well as I do that his being alone with the marchioness is more than enough to convict him.’

‘Damn!’ the earl swore again. ‘I never expected behaviour like this from Peregrine. Edward’s always been one for the ladies. God knows how many have lost their hearts to him. But he’s a good-looking lad and as charming as they come.’

‘Has he shown no interest in marrying?’

‘No, and at almost twenty-six, he’s of an age where that’s exactly what he should be turning his mind to,’ the earl said testily. ‘I’ve told him as much, but he doesn’t pay heed to me. Says he’ll marry when he’s good and ready and not a moment before.’

‘So he likes to play the field,’ Barrington said.

‘Always has. But Rand isn’t inclined that way. In the time he’s been here, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk about a woman, let alone embroil himself in a sordid affair with one. My daughter was right in that regard.’

Barrington didn’t bother to offer a reply. Family dynamics were neither of importance nor of interest to him. Emotion had to be kept separate from fact or everything risked drowning in sentimentality. Some might consider him cold for harbouring such a belief, but as far as he was concerned, it was the only way to do business. ‘My Lord, I trust you appreciate the gravity of the situation,’ he said bluntly. ‘Lord Yew is understandably angry that his wife entered into an intimate relationship with another man; while it is correct to say that the lady is equally to blame, it is the gentleman the marquess intends to punish.’

‘Of course,’ Cambermere agreed. ‘Men are always at fault in these situations. Well, what do you propose we do about it?’

Barrington was about to answer when the door to the room burst open and Lady Annabelle swept in, all blazing eyes and righteous indignation. ‘Forgive me, Papa, but I simply cannot stand by and allow Sir Barrington’s accusation to go unchallenged. Peregrine would never do something like this. It runs contrary to everything he stands for—which leads me to believe that it must be Sir Barrington’s information that is in error.’

Barrington stared at the woman standing just inside the door, aware that she truly was magnificent. The candlelight deepened her hair to a rich, burnished gold and, in the dim light, her eyes shone a clear, deep blue. She was like a golden lioness protecting her cub. He almost hated having to be the one to prove her wrong. ‘I have someone ready to swear that Mr Rand spent time alone with the marchioness in her private rooms, Lady Annabelle,’ he said quietly. ‘I need not tell you how damaging such a disclosure would be.’

He saw her eyes widen and knew that she did indeed appreciate the gravity of what he’d just said. But it was equally clear that she still didn’t believe him. ‘How do you know your witness was telling the truth, Sir Barrington? You have only his word that what he claims to have happened really did. I know Peregrine and I can assure you that he is not the type of man—’

‘Anna, please,’ her father interrupted. ‘If Sir Barrington says he has proof of Peregrine’s guilt, we must believe him.’

‘But why? If he only took the time to speak with Peregrine, he would know that what he is suggesting is quite impossible.’

Cambermere sighed. ‘You must forgive my daughter, Sir Barrington. She has grown uncommonly fond of my godson in the short time he’s been here and is clearly reluctant to hear ill spoken of him.’

‘I understand,’ Barrington said, wondering if the closeness between the lady and Mr Rand had anything to do with the fact that they might well be brother and sister. ‘Is Mr Rand spending the rest of the Season with you?’

The earl nodded. ‘That was the plan. His father and I are … old friends. We were … at school together,’ he said, glancing at a file on his desk. ‘Haven’t seen him in years, of course, but I was at his wedding and agreed to stand as godfather to his firstborn.’ He turned towards the window, his face half in shadow. ‘A few months ago, I received a letter from him, telling me that his wife had died and asking if I’d be willing to take Peregrine for a few months. Show him the sights of London, that sort of thing.’

‘And you agreed.’

‘I thought it the right thing to do.’ The earl swallowed hard, his voice when he spoke gruff. ‘He is my godson, after all.’

Barrington nodded, not sure whether it was grief or regret that shadowed the earl’s voice. ‘Are you aware of the company your godson keeps, Lord Cambermere?’

‘Can’t say that I am. His interests run vastly different to mine. He doesn’t ride, he prefers not to hunt and I don’t believe he’s all that partial to moving in society. As my daughter said, he would rather spend his evenings with a book.’

Or in the marchioness’s bed. ‘Do you know where he is this evening?’ Barrington enquired.

He saw the look that passed between Cambermere and his daughter, but wasn’t surprised when the earl said, ‘No. As I said, I don’t make a study of the boy’s comings and goings.’

‘Yet you said Lady Annabelle usually goes with him to social engagements.’

‘Yes.’

‘Then why is she not with him tonight?’ Barrington asked.

Barrington glanced at Lady Annabelle as he waited for a response. What little he knew of her encouraged him to believe that she would give him an honest answer. But when he saw her colour rise and her golden brows knit together, he suspected she already had. ‘I see.’

‘No, you don’t see!’ Lady Annabelle said quickly. ‘Peregrine didn’t ask me to accompany him because he was going to visit someone with whom he was already acquainted. It wasn’t necessary that I go along.’

‘Were you not surprised that you did not also receive an invitation to the reception?’

‘Not at all. There are often events to which I am invited that other members of my family are not,’ she explained. ‘We may move in the same circles, Sir Barrington, but we do not have all the same friends.’

Barrington knew there was nothing to be gained in challenging the remark. Lady Annabelle was trying to defend Mr Rand—and failing badly in the attempt. ‘Lord Cambermere,’ he said finally, ‘my client has made it clear that he intends to make an example of the man involved with his wife. However, for the sake of you and your family, I would prefer to see this matter settled quietly and with as little scandal as possible. If I could get Lord Yew to agree to it, would Mr Rand be willing to break off his association with Lady Yew and swear that he would never see her again? Perhaps be willing to write a letter to that effect?’