Gail Whitiker - Brushed By Scandal

So, her father had already left to meet with Sir Barrington Parker. That meant she had to speak to Peregrine as soon as possible. But where was he? And if he’d gone out, when might he be back? If she could talk to him, find out what had really happened, she might be able to speak to Sir Barrington on his behalf.

Leaving her plate untouched, she got up and headed for the door.

‘What, no breakfast?’ Edward enquired. ‘Cook will be displeased.’

‘I haven’t time. I have to find Peregrine.’

‘He’s probably still in his room,’ Edward said, turning another page. ‘I understand he was drinking quite heavily at the Grundings’ soirée last night.’

Anna stilled. ‘Where did you hear that?’

‘From someone who was there.’ He finally looked up and smiled. ‘It seems our country guest is finding London very much to his liking.’

Pursing her lips, Anna left the room. Edward hadn’t meant the remark kindly. For whatever reason, he’d taken an instant dislike to Peregrine and had taken to making snide comments about his appearance, his manner of dress, even his accent. Anna had taken him to task about it several times, but it hadn’t made any difference. The sniping continued and Edward made no attempt to hide his feelings when Peregrine was around.

Fortunately, Peregrine knew how Edward felt about him, but he refused to make an issue of it, saying it likely stemmed from the difference in their upbringings. Edward had been raised in a nobleman’s house and was heir to an earldom, whereas Peregrine had been raised on a farm with parents who, though comfortable, were neither titled nor gentry.

Still, he was a guest in their home and he deserved better. Anna liked him very much. Despite his obvious lack of sophistication, he was good natured and quick to laugh and didn’t belittle her efforts the way Edward did. He admired her for caring enough about the welfare of others to get involved and he also liked many of the same things she did, so they frequently found themselves laughing together at the various social events they went to.

Edward, on the other hand, was never to be found in the same room as Peregrine. Supremely conscious of his own position in society, he sought the company of those equal to him or blessed with a higher status. If there was a snob in the Durst family, it was definitely her brother.

Reaching Peregrine’s door, Anna raised her hand and knocked. ‘Peregrine?’ When she heard no response, she waited a moment and then tentatively pushed it open.

He wasn’t there. Worse, his bed hadn’t been slept in.

Anna felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach. Where had he spent the night and where was he now? Equally important, what kind of mood was he in? Peregrine was an uncommonly sensitive man. If her father had falsely accused him of having an affair with Lady Yew, Peregrine might well have left the house angry and embarrassed that his godfather would believe such shameful lies about him. But where could he have gone?

There was only one way to find out. Heading to her bedroom, Anna fetched her bonnet and gloves. Returning to the hall, she rang for Milford and asked to be told where Sir Barrington Parker lived.

‘Lady Annabelle Durst, Sir Barrington,’ Sam said quietly.

Barrington looked up from the deed of land he had been perusing and saw the lady standing in his doorway. She looked like a breath of summer in a gown of pale yellow silk trimmed with deeper yellow ribbons, an elegant wide-brimmed bonnet perched atop her golden hair. Her lips were a soft dusky rose, but her blue eyes appeared unusually bright against the pallor of her skin. She was distraught and, recognising that, he rose at once. ‘Lady Annabelle.’

‘I hope my timing is not inconvenient, Sir Barrington.’

‘Not at all. Pray come in. Bring your maid, if you wish.’

‘No, I would rather speak to you privately.’ Lady Annabelle waved the girl into a chair outside his study. ‘I cannot bear not knowing.’

So, it was curiosity that had compelled her to come. Obviously, she hadn’t spoken to her father yet. Barrington indicated the high-back chair in front of the fireplace. ‘Won’t you sit down?’

She did not. Visibly upset, she began to pace. Barrington understood the compulsion. He had been a pacer once himself. ‘May I ring for tea?’

‘Thank you.’ This time, she did look at him. ‘That would be most welcome.’

He glanced at Sam, who nodded and quietly withdrew.

For a moment Barrington said nothing, more interested in studying her than he was in initiating a conversation. She was as beautiful as ever, but this morning she looked to be drawn as tight as a finely strung bow. He had a feeling that if he pulled too hard, she would snap. ‘What did you wish to ask me, Lady Annabelle?’ he said softly.

Her head turned towards him, her blue eyes filled with misgivings. ‘Have you seen my father this morning?’

‘I have.’

‘And? Did he speak to you about Peregrine?’

Barrington nodded, aware that he was far more in control of his emotions than she was of hers. ‘Are you sure you won’t sit down?’

‘Please … just tell me,’ she implored. ‘I wanted to ask Peregrine myself, but he wasn’t in his room this morning; by the looks of his bed, he hadn’t slept there at all.’

‘I suspect he did not,’ Barrington agreed. ‘Lord Cambermere informed me that after his conversation with Mr Rand last night, the young man left the house without any indication as to where he was going or when he might return. Apparently he was in a state of considerable distress.’

He saw her eyes briefly close. ‘Did he admit to … what you accused him of?’

Barrington wished he could have said otherwise, but he wouldn’t lie. Not even when he knew the boy had. ‘No.’

With a soft cry, Lady Annabelle sank into a chair. ‘I knew it! I knew he was innocent.’ When Barrington made no response, she raised her head, her eyes narrowing at the expression on his face. ‘You don’t believe him.’

‘It takes more than a man saying he didn’t do something for me to believe him innocent when the evidence speaks so clearly of his guilt.’

‘But why would he lie?’ she protested.

Barrington gave a non-committal shrug. ‘Why does anyone lie? To protect themselves or to protect someone else. I’m sure you’ve had dealings with young women who told you one thing, yet did another.’

‘Yes, because they had no wish for their misdemeanours to become public.’

‘Exactly. Mr Rand is likely embarrassed by what he’s done and hopes to convince others that he is not at fault.’

He saw her stiffen. ‘Peregrine has never lied to me.’

‘Perhaps there has not been enough at stake for him to do so,’ Barrington said quietly. ‘Now there is.’

The door opened again and Sam walked in, carrying a silver tea service. At a nod from his employer, he set the tray on the small table beside the desk and then quietly withdrew. Barrington crossed to the table and picked up the milk jug. ‘Milk and sugar?’

‘Just milk, thank you.’

He poured a drop into one of the cups, then filled both cups with hot tea. Accepting hers, Lady Annabelle said, ‘I still think you’re wrong, Sir Barrington. If Peregrine said he is not involved with Lady Yew, he is not. Why can you not accept that as truth?’

‘Because the rest of his behaviour leads me to believe otherwise. How do you explain the fact that he chose not to stay home last night?’

‘I suspect he was deeply embarrassed by my father believing him capable of such reprehensible conduct. Would you not wish to avoid someone who had accused you of doing something you had not?’