Gail Whitiker - Revenge In Regency Society

Anna felt the familiar warmth creep into her cheeks—an annoyingly common occurrence since meeting this man. ‘One can do both at the same time. Helping someone else navigate the path towards marriage does not mean I cannot walk the path myself.’

‘But if you are too busy looking out for the welfare of others, how can you see to your own?’

‘I hardly think I am doing one to the exclusion of the other,’ Anna said defensively. ‘Besides, what I do for these girls is important. All too often they find themselves swept up in the emotion of the moment and don’t stop to think about the repercussions.’

‘And so you step in,’ he said softly. ‘Like you did with Mercy Banks and Fiona Whitfield, and God knows how many others, in an attempt to save them from themselves.’

‘It is all very well for you to mock me, Sir Barrington, but you cannot deny that—’ Anna broke off to stare at him. ‘How did you know I was involved with Fiona Whitfield?’

‘Do you really need ask?’

‘Yes, I fear I must. Fiona’s mother and father were adamant that word of what happened to Fiona not leak out. I gave them my word that I would say nothing and, since the young man was sent abroad, I don’t see how you could possibly be aware of what took place.’

‘As it happens, I was making enquiries into the activities of Miss Whitfield’s uncle,’ Barrington told her. ‘I learned of your association with the family at that time. And though I did not delve into the particulars of Miss Whitfield’s situation, I did learn of your involvement with her whilst speaking to another family member.’

Anna gasped. ‘Someone else knew what happened to Fiona?’

‘I’m afraid so. But, like you, they were sworn to secrecy. And it worked out well enough in the end. She married Lord Priestley’s son earlier this year and I understand they are very happy together.’

‘Yes, thank goodness. It could have turned out so badly for her, and all because of that despicable man.’ Anna sighed. ‘It really isn’t fair, you know. A man may tempt a woman with honeyed words and longing looks, yet she is the one who must behave with propriety at all times. If he manages to steal a kiss, he is not thought of any the less, whereas she is deemed to have loose morals.’

‘Sadly, it has always been thus,’ Barrington remarked. ‘Society makes the rules and we must obey.’

‘No. Men make the rules and then demand that women follow them. It is no wonder we sometimes falter.’

She saw the surprise in his face. ‘Am I to assume from your comment, Lady Annabelle, that you yourself have faltered in the past?’

‘That is none of your business!’ she exclaimed.

‘No, I don’t suppose it is.’ He laughed softly, the sound sending shivers up her spine. ‘But your reputation doesn’t suggest a woman who would be easily led astray. I find my curiosity piqued at the thought of you having ever done anything wrong.’

‘Then you will just have to live with piqued curiosity,’ Anna said, abruptly standing up.

‘Anna, wait, I meant no offence,’ he said, likewise getting to his feet. ‘If I’ve inadvertently touched a nerve, I apologise. It was never my intention to hurt you.’

Anna shook her head, too distracted by unpleasant memories of the past to notice his lapse into familiarity. ‘And I did not mean to be abrupt, Sir Barrington, but I have no wish to talk about what happened in my past.’

‘I understand. We’ve all made mistakes, some worse than others. But given your untarnished reputation and excellent standing in society, it’s obvious your mistake, if that’s what it was, did not serve as your undoing.’

‘It could have,’ Anna whispered, ‘had a friend not come along when she had.’

And that was the tragic truth of her brief flirtation with the Honourable Anthony Colder. As a naïve seventeen-year-old, Anna had all but thrown herself at the god-like creature, believing the smiles he had bestowed upon her were the result of a genuine and mutual affection. Little had she known that his interest had more to do with her father being the Earl of Cambermere than it did with any charms she might possess herself. Anthony had been an avid social climber, as well as the most handsome man she had ever met. With those laughing blue eyes and a smile that set butterflies dancing in her stomach, she would have given him anything he’d asked for. And if he’d had his chance, he would have taken it.

Mrs Mary Fielding had known that, too. A twice-married woman wise to the ways of men like Anthony Colder, Mrs Fielding had seen the growing infatuation between the two young people and had guessed at its source, being more familiar with Anthony’s background than most. She had known of his gambling debts, his easy way with women, and his devil-may-care attitude. And on that evening when Anthony, having drunk too much brandy and feeling far too sure of himself, had caught Anna alone in the gazebo by the lake and torn her gown in a boorish attempt at seduction, Mrs Fielding had appeared and promptly sent him packing. She had stayed with Anna until the worst of her grief had passed, and then, after drying Anna’s tears, she had lent her a shawl to cover the tear and had sent her regrets back to their hostess, explaining that Lady Annabelle was unwell and that she was seeing her home in her own carriage.

It had been a painful lesson, but one Anna had learned well. She had gone home that evening and made no mention of the event to anyone. She regretted having told her parents and her brother of her affection for Anthony, but after that night she never mentioned his name again. Nor, thankfully, did she see him. Mrs Fielding informed her not long after that he had left the country.

Anna had never been so glad to see the back of anyone in her life. And though she thought it was impossible for her to blush any deeper, she was wrong. Even after all this time, her face burned at the memory of her stupid, stupid mistake.

‘Tell me what happened, Lady Annabelle,’ Barrington said in a low voice. ‘Your secrets are safe with me. I know, better than most, the value of discretion.’

‘Yes, I’m sure you do,’ Anna said quietly. ‘But the only way to completely ensure one’s secrets is by keeping them entirely to oneself.’

‘I’m sorry you cannot bring yourself to trust me.’

She looked up at him, surprised that he would mention trust in such a situation. ‘I do not know you, Sir Barrington.

And the trust of which you speak is generally reserved for relationships between husbands and wives.’

‘I’ve always thought that bonds of trust can exist between friends as well as lovers.’

‘Perhaps, but it takes time to establish that kind of bond,’ she said, sounding flustered even to her own ears. ‘You are a single gentleman and I a single lady. It isn’t the thing for us to … share secrets of an intimate nature. But if you were looking for a wife, you would do well to consider Miss Erickson. Apart from her many other attributes, she is a genuinely nice young woman.’

‘What makes you think I’m looking for a wife?’ he asked.

‘Why would you not be? You just told me that we must abide by society’s rules, and society dictates that men and women should marry. Is that not the purpose of these gatherings? To place one in the path of the other?’

‘I suppose it is.’ He hesitated a moment before adding, ‘But I think it only right to tell you that Miss Erickson would not be of interest to me, even if I were of a mind to marry.’

If he were of a mind to marry? ‘Are you telling me you intend to remain single?’ Anna asked, eyebrows lifting in shock.

‘That was my plan, yes.’

‘But what of your obligation to your family?’