Brushed by Scandal (3 page)

Hence Barrington’s surprise when, during the investigation of the Marchioness of Yew’s infidelity, he’d learned that his good friend was finally in honest pursuit of the lady’s very respectable and exceedingly lovely nineteen-year-old daughter, Rebecca.

‘Sexual conquests aside, dare I hope you’ve come with news about the identity of Lady Yew’s alleged lover?’ Barrington enquired.

‘Nothing alleged about it.’ Crew strolled towards the desk and picked up a glass in his long, slender fingers. ‘I happened to be in the lady’s house on the occasion of the young man’s
last visit and saw them acting very lover-like towards one another.’

‘How convenient. Were you there in hopes of seeing the lovely Lady Rebecca or to question the mother?’

‘Most definitely the former.’ Crew raised the glass to his nose and sniffed appreciatively. ‘Unlike our young Romeo, I have no interest in romancing ladies over the age of thirty. The bloom has long since gone from that rose.’

‘But with maturity comes experience,’ Barrington said, reaching for his own glass. ‘A gently reared miss of nineteen will know nothing of that.’

‘Fortunately, I am more than willing to teach her all she needs to know.’ Crew swallowed a mouthful of brandy, pausing a moment to savour its flavour before sinking into a chair and resting his booted feet on the edge of the desk. ‘However, returning to the matter at hand, the gentleman in question is not our typical Lothario. I’ve never heard his name mentioned in association with lady
or
ladybird; in truth, I’d never heard of
him
until his arrival in London just over a month ago. So the fact he has chosen to dally with a marquess’s wife is somewhat unusual.’

‘Are you sure they
are
lovers?’

Crew shrugged. ‘Lady Rebecca confided her belief that they are. She told me she’s seen the gentleman enter her mother’s private quarters on more than one occasion, and, as I was leaving, I saw them myself going upstairs together hand in hand.’

‘Damning evidence indeed,’ Barrington said. ‘And reckless behaviour for a man newly arrived in London. Does he suffer from a case of misplaced affection or unbridled lust?’

‘Knowing the marchioness, I suspect the latter,’ Crew said in a dry voice. ‘It’s well known she favours younger men
because her husband is a crusty old stick twenty-five years older than she is.’

‘Still, she has charmed a legion of men both younger
and
older than herself, and, up to this point, her husband has always been willing to turn a blind eye,’ Barrington said. ‘For whatever reason, he is not inclined to do so this time.’

Crew shrugged. ‘Perhaps he fears a genuine attachment. It’s all very well for a woman to take a lover to her bed, but it is extremely bad taste to fall in love with him. People have been known to do abysmally stupid things in the name of love.’

‘Too true. So, who is the poor boy Lord Yew is going to flay?’

‘His full name is Peregrine Tipton Rand.’

‘Good Lord. Peregrine Tipton?’

‘A trifle whimsical, I admit, but he’s a country lad visiting London for the first time. Apparently, his father owns a farm in Devon. Rand’s the oldest of four brothers and sisters but he hasn’t shown much interest in taking over from his father. Seems he’s more interested in books than in bovines, so when the mother died, the father shipped him up here to stay with his godfather in the hopes of the boy acquiring some town polish. Unfortunately, all he acquired was an affection for Lady Yew.’

Barrington frowned. ‘How did a country boy come to be introduced to a marchioness?’

‘Through the auspices of Lord Hayle, Viscount Hayle.’

‘Hayle?’ Barrington’s eyebrows rose in surprise. The beautiful Lady Annabelle’s
brother? ‘
I wouldn’t have thought the Earl of Cambermere’s heir the type to associate with a country gentleman of no consequence.’

‘I dare say you’re right, but as it happens, he has no choice.

Rand is
staying
with the family. Cambermere is the man reputed to be his godfather.’

‘Reputed?’

‘There are those who say the lad bears a stronger resemblance to the earl than might be expected.’

‘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.’