Brushed by Scandal (4 page)

‘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.’

‘P
eregrine!’ 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?’

Cambermere nodded. ‘I don’t see why he would not—’

‘But why
should
he write such a letter, Papa!’ Lady Annabelle demanded. ‘If he has done nothing wrong, surely there is no—!’

‘Enough,
Anna! If you cannot keep silent, I
will
ask you to leave,’ her father said, displaying signs of impatience for the
first time that evening. ‘I don’t know if you appreciate how serious a matter this is. In years gone by, Peregrine would have been called out for such an offence. In fact, I’m sure the thought crossed Yew’s mind. He is not a man to be trifled with.’

‘But you are condemning him without trial,’ she persisted. ‘Pronouncing him guilty without even giving him a chance to prove his innocence. All on the strength of
this
man’s say so!’ she added, her voice suddenly growing cold.

Barrington’s eyes narrowed. So, the fair Lady Annabelle would defend her visitor to the last, blindly ignoring the evidence that he had put forward. Pity. While her loyalty did her credit, all it meant was that the outcome of the situation would be that much more painful for her in the end.

‘If I may suggest,’ he said slowly, ‘I am well aware of how shocking this must sound and agree that Mr Rand must have his hearing and be given a chance to explain. But I do have an appointment with Lord Yew tomorrow afternoon and he will be looking for answers. So I would ask that you speak to Mr Rand as soon as possible and get back to me at the earliest opportunity.’

‘I shall speak to him the moment he returns home this evening,’ the earl said, ‘and send word to you first thing in the morning.’

‘Thank you. You have my card.’ Barrington glanced at Annabelle, but wasn’t surprised that she refused to meet his eyes. ‘I regret, Lady Annabelle, that our introduction should have taken this form. It is not how I wished we might have started out.’

‘Nor I, Sir Barrington.’ She did look at him then and Barrington saw how deeply she was torn. ‘If you knew Peregrine as I do, you would understand why I say that he is incapable of such a deceit.’

‘Sadly, it is not possible for me to be intimately acquainted
with everyone I am asked to investigate. Nor would it do me any good to encourage that kind of relationship. I must judge what I see without emotion clouding my vision. I trust the word of those who provide me with information and trust my own skills when it comes to assessing the value of what they’ve told me. I have no reason to doubt the source of this particular piece of information.’

‘Yet who is to say that your source is any more honest than Peregrine?’ she parried. ‘He is as much a stranger to you as your source is to us. Does he even
know
Mr Rand?’

‘By sight, and that is all that matters,’ Barrington said. ‘I deal in facts, Lady Annabelle. Not emotion. One dilutes the other to such an extent that the truth is often unrecognisable.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m not sure I like your truths, Sir Barrington. You presume a great deal without being personally involved.’