Gail Whitiker - Revenge In Regency Society - Brushed by Scandal / Courting Miss Vallois

‘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?’

‘Maybe. But I also like to think I would be mature enough to admit my mistakes, if I were so foolish as to make them.’

‘And I repeat, I do not believe Peregrine has made a mistake.’

He heard the quiet certainty in her voice and was moved to smile. He, too, had once been so trusting; so willing to believe in the goodness of others. When had he lost that naïveté?

‘The attraction between a man and a woman is one of the most powerful forces on earth, Lady Annabelle,’ he said. ‘You have no idea how many crimes are committed, and how many lies are told, in the name of that attraction.’

‘Not perhaps as well as you do,’ Lady Annabelle agreed, ‘but we are talking about Peregrine’s character and of that I believe I can speak with authority. If he told my father he is not having an affair with Lady Yew, he is not.’

‘Then it would seem we have reached an impasse,’ Barrington said. ‘There is nothing more to say.’

She looked somewhat taken aback by his easy acceptance of her statement, but, equally willing to accept it at face value, she finished her tea and then set the china cup and saucer back on the table. ‘What will you tell Lord Yew?’

‘I don’t know,’ Barrington said honestly. ‘But I have between now and two o’clock to work it out.’

‘Then I shall leave you to your deliberations.’ She stood up and offered him her hand. ‘Thank you for seeing me, Sir Barrington.’

‘My pleasure.’ Barrington felt the softness of the glove in his hand, the slenderness of the fingers within. ‘I’m sorry that circumstances are such that you leave believing the worst of me. Again.’

‘Actually, I don’t. We each have our own ways of involving ourselves in other people’s lives, Sir Barrington,’ Lady Annabelle said. ‘I tend to think the best and assume people innocent until proven guilty, whereas you believe the exact opposite.’

‘Not at all. I simply strive to uncover the truth,’ Barrington said. ‘That is why people come to me. And experience has taught me that if the truth is not immediately discernible, it will come out in the end.’

‘Then at least you and I are able to part knowing that the truth of this matter has already been established,’ she replied. ‘Goodbye, Sir Barrington.’

Barrington inclined his head, but said nothing as she left the room. He stood by his desk until he heard the sound of the front door close before letting his head fall back and breathing a long, deep sigh.

So, the lovely Anna thought the matter closed. Wrong. Peregrine Rand was guilty. The fact he had chosen not to confess his sin meant absolutely nothing. In his heart, he knew what he’d done and, if Peregrine was as noble as Lady Annabelle made him out to be, guilt would eat away at him until he had no choice but to make a clean breast of it. Either way, the young man was doomed to failure.

As it seemed was he, Barrington reflected, when it came to securing the good opinion of the lovely Lady Annabelle Durst. If it turned out that his accusations were correct and Rand was guilty of having an affair with Lady Yew, she would resent him for having proven her wrong. On the other hand, if Rand was telling the truth, she would resent him for having doubted his integrity in the first place. In short, they had reached a stalemate. And contrary to what either of them might wish to believe, in a situation like this, there was simply no way one or the other of them was going to win.

Anna finally caught up with Peregrine later that afternoon. She had been resting in her room, nursing the megrim she’d had for the better part of the day, when she heard the heavy thump of footsteps in the hall and realised he was finally home. Pushing the lavender eye pads aside, she quickly got up and went to the door. ‘Peregrine!’

He clearly wasn’t in the mood for conversation. Dressed in boots, hacking jacket and breeches, he didn’t stop when she hailed him and was almost at the bottom of the stairs before she finally caught up with him. ‘Peregrine, wait! I need to talk to you.’

‘I haven’t time.’ His voice was unusually brusque. ‘I’m going riding with friends and I’m already late.’

‘Then you’ll just have to be a few minutes later,’ Anna said, putting her hand on his arm and turning him around. ‘Where were you last night? I was worried about you.’

‘You had no reason to be. I simply went out.’

‘But not until after you spoke to Papa. Why did you leave again? And why didn’t you come home?’

He flicked the hard leather crop against the top of his boot. ‘I lost track of time. When I realised how late it was, I decided it was best I just stay out.’

‘Why? Because of something Papa said?’

Peregrine was a good-looking young man with a shock of thick, black hair, deep brown eyes and a wide, generous mouth. A mouth that suddenly narrowed in anger. ‘I don’t care to talk about it.’

‘But you don’t have a choice, Peregrine. There’s a rumour going around town that you are having an affair with Lady Yew,’ Anna said, needing him to understand the gravity of the situation. ‘I know it isn’t true, but you can’t simply pretend the rumour doesn’t exist.’

‘As a matter of fact, I can. I told your father as much when he questioned me about it last night and I certainly don’t intend to stand here and justify my behaviour to you!’

Stung by the vehemence of his reply, Anna said, ‘I’m not asking for justification. I just told you I don’t believe what people are saying. But a meeting is being held this afternoon between Lord Yew and the man he asked to investigate his wife’s infidelity and your name is going to come up—’

‘Damn it, Anna, did I not just say that I don’t want to talk about it?’

‘But you must! Your reputation as a gentleman is at stake, don’t you understand?’

‘What I understand is that a man’s private business is not his own,’ he snapped. ‘Do you know why I jumped at the chance to come to London? Because I was tired of having to listen to my father’s sanctimonious preaching. Of being told what I could and could not do. I thought that by coming here, I would finally be able to lead my own life. Yet now I find that every move I make is watched and criticised by people I don’t know, and that even you and your father have no qualms about intruding into something that is none of your business.’

‘None of our business?’ Anna repeated in astonishment. ‘How can you say that? You are my father’s godson. We care about you.’

He had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘I’m not saying you don’t.’

‘Then why are you being so defensive? I know you didn’t have an affair with Lady Yew,’ Anna said. ‘For one thing, she’s already married. For another, she must be at least fifteen years older than you.’

‘Since when did either of those things matter to the fine, upstanding members of society?’ Peregrine shot back. ‘Half of London seems to be involved with people other than their wives or husbands. Why should Susan and I be any different?’

‘Susan?’ Anna interrupted, shocked. ‘You call her Susan?’

‘Yes.’ He raised his chin in defiance. ‘What else would one call a good friend?’

‘Given that she happens to be someone else’s wife, I would have thought Lady Yew the more appropriate form of address,’ Anna said, concern lending an edge to her voice.