Gail Whitiker - Revenge In Regency Society

‘I can understand why,’ Sir Barrington said as the others turned away to chat amongst themselves. ‘They are exceptional, as is the lady wearing them.’

Anna slowly raised her eyes to his face, aware of the fire in his eyes as his gaze lingered on her necklace. The low décolleté of the gown exposed far more skin than she was used to and she could almost feel the heat of his eyes burning her. When he finally raised his eyes to meet hers, the desire in them was plain. Was it any wonder her heart was beating double time?

Thankfully, Julia, catching the eye of her butler, said, ‘Dear guests, shall we proceed to the dining room? I do believe dinner is served.’

At the conclusion of an exceptional meal, the baroness led the ladies into the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to enjoy masculine conversation, good cigars and several fine bottles of port. Barrington, who enjoyed these sessions more for the information they provided than for the chance to socialise, accepted the offer of a light from Viscount Hayle, who settled into the chair next to his. Noticing the man’s obvious boredom, Barrington said, ‘Is the evening not to your liking, Hayle?’

Hayle slanted him a mocking glance. ‘I get tired of listening to men like Bessmel and Richards bickering over political situations about which they know nothing. It’s a waste of everyone’s time and, frankly, I’d rather spend the night gambling or in the arms of a mistress.’

Barrington drew on his cigar, taking a moment to study the other man through the rising curl of smoke. ‘I’m surprised Mr Rand didn’t come with you tonight. I thought he usually accompanied your sister to these kinds of events.’

‘He was invited but, thankfully, he declined,’ Hayle said tersely. ‘It’s bad enough having him around the house all the time, let alone being forced into society with him.’

‘You do not care for Mr Rand?’

‘Would you?’ Hayle fired back.

Barrington was startled by the flash of raw emotion he saw in the other man’s eyes and wondered if Hayle knew how much of himself he had given away. ‘I’m not sure I know what you mean.’

‘Then you’re the only one who doesn’t,’ Hayle muttered. ‘All you have to do is look at Rand to know he’s no more my father’s godson than he is the bloody Prince of Wales’s.’

So, that was it. The son suspected the connection and wasn’t in the least happy about it. Barrington tapped ash from the end of his cigar. ‘I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t heard rumours, but I don’t believe anything’s been substantiated.’

‘Of course not. My father’s the only one who can substantiate rumours like that and you can be damn sure he’s not going to. Not now that he’s met the baroness.’ Hayle’s eyes narrowed as he glared at his father sitting farther up the table. ‘It’s embarrassing the way he carries on with her. God knows, he’s old enough to be her father.’

‘I take it you do not care for the fact that the earl and the baroness seem to like one another?’

‘I do not. It’s unseemly the way he follows her around, hanging on every word she says. He might just as well come out and ask her to go to bed with him.’

Barrington reached for his glass of port, intrigued by the depth of vitriol pouring from the other man. ‘I think you judge them too harshly. Your father is an amiable gentleman and the baroness is an exceedingly gracious woman. And as they are both widowed, why should they not enjoy one another’s company?’

‘There is a considerable difference in their ages.’

Barrington shrugged. ‘The baroness can’t be any more than twenty-nine or thirty, and your father is, what … in his late forties? There are far wider gaps in age between husbands and wives in society.’

Hayle slowly began to smile. ‘Yes. Like Lord Yew and his wife. But then, I suspect you already know all about that.’

Barrington inhaled deeply on his cigar. Hayle was bound to know about Peregrine’s folly, but he was damned if he’d be the one to shed any light on the matter. When it came to secrets, he was as adept at keeping them as he was at prying them out of others.

Fortunately, Hayle didn’t appear to be in need of an answer. ‘How much do you think that sapphire necklace is worth?’ he asked instead.

Barrington’s shrug was carefully non-committal. ‘I’m no expert, but, given the size and quality of the stones, I should think it considerable.’

‘Enough to keep a man in brandy and cigars for the rest of his life, I’ll wager.’

‘Probably. How fortunate that you and I need not worry about such things.’

Hayle snorted. ‘Speak for yourself.’

Barrington’s gaze sharpened. ‘You are your father’s heir.’

‘Oh, yes. But as he’s still in his forties and hale and hearty, I’m not likely to inherit any time soon,’ Hayle said sourly. ‘So, what’s your connection with the baroness?’

‘We have no connection, per se,’ Barrington said, aware that the man changed subjects more often than a lady changed her mind. ‘We were introduced by your sister at Lady Bessmel’s reception and have seen each other at a few society gatherings since, but nothing beyond that.’ He gazed at the earl’s son through a fine wisp of smoke. ‘I understand it was your sister’s idea to launch the baroness into society.’

‘Of course it was. Anna loves to manage other people’s lives. Personally, I think her time would be better spent smoothing her way into some man’s bed,’ Hayle said in a disagreeable tone, adding when he saw Barrington’s stern look, ‘After she marries him, of course. Anna would never do anything as irresponsible as compromise herself. But it’s long past time she was wed. Father’s too soft. He won’t force her into an arranged marriage, even though he knows it would be best for all concerned.’

‘I’m sure your sister would have no problem finding a husband if that was something she truly wanted,’ Barrington said, careful to keep the annoyance from his voice. ‘She is an exceedingly beautiful woman.’

‘But meddlesome and outspoken,’ Hayle remarked. ‘Men don’t like that in a wife. They want quiet, biddable women who know their place. Anna is neither biddable nor accommodating, as I’m sure you know from the brief time you’ve spent with her. Mind, I’ve heard her mention your name more than once and that’s saying something. Better watch yourself, Parker, or she’ll have you in the parson’s mousetrap before you can turn around.’ He drained the contents of his glass, then signalled the waiter for a refill. ‘So, I hear you’re giving a fencing demonstration at Angelo’s this week.’

Barrington’s hand tightened on his glass. ‘No. I am giving Lord Yew’s son a lesson. In private.’

‘I heard you were going to fight.’

‘You heard wrong.’

‘But why wouldn’t you fight?’ Hayle asked. ‘You’re reputed to be the finest swordsman in London. Why not show everyone that you are?’

‘Because that’s not what I do.’

‘Then why are you giving Yew’s boy a lesson?’

‘I agreed to it as a favour to the marquess. I also happen to like Lord Gerald. He shows a great deal of promise with the foil and he is anxious to better himself.’