Brushed by Scandal (12 page)

‘Apology accepted, but I suggest you do not take this too much to heart, Cambermere,’ Barrington said. ‘It is not uncommon for a young man to wish to win, especially in front of his peers.’

‘If a man cannot win fairly or lose graciously, he should not play the game,’ Cambermere snapped. ‘I’m sorry you had to see that side of Edward’s nature. He’s always been a competitive lad, but of late, he has become even more so. I suspect it has much to do with Peregrine’s arrival.’ The earl sighed. ‘They have not become the friends I’d hoped.’

‘Was it realistic to believe they would?’

The earl glanced up, his sharp eyes meeting Barrington’s. But Barrington’s didn’t waver, and, not surprisingly, the earl was the first to look away. ‘Perhaps not. But they had to meet at some time.’

‘Did they? I would have thought it possible for their paths never to have crossed. But it’s a moot point now. You made
the decision to invite Rand to London and must now deal with the consequences,’ Barrington said.

‘I know. But I was asked if I would have him,’ the earl said quietly. ‘And I wanted him to come.’

Used to gleaning meanings from things that were left unsaid, Barrington inclined his head. ‘Then it really is none of anyone else’s business.’

‘Yet people choose to make it so,’ Cambermere said fiercely.

Barrington’s smile was tight. ‘People like to pass judgement on matters that do not concern them. Some do it with the best of intentions, others do it without any care for the consequences at all. But as we said, the matter is private and one that concerns you and your family alone.’

Even has he said it, however, Barrington realised he had been given another glimpse into the complicated workings of Lord Cambermere’s family, and it was evident from the morning’s events that all was far from harmonious. There were simmering resentments, unsettled grievances, and barely restrained tempers. Instead of warming to the fact that his father had brought his godson to London, Hayle intended to do whatever he could to make Rand feel unwelcome—even to the point of humiliating him in front of his peers.

That much had become patently clear. As Barrington left the club and climbed into his carriage for the drive home, he
knew
who had asked the Marquess of Yew to make an example of Peregrine Rand. And, sadly, he also knew the reason why.

* * *

A full week passed during which Anna neither saw nor heard from Barrington. She told herself she didn’t care, but as she lay awake in the dark hours of the night, she knew she was lying to herself. She
did
care. And it troubled her deeply that they had parted on such bad terms.

Try as she might, she couldn’t forget the feeling of Barrington’s arms closing warm and strong around her. She kept remembering the tenderness of his mouth as it moved with deliberate slowness over hers, sending shivers of delight up and down her spine.

It still made her quiver when she thought about it.

Still, longing for something you couldn’t have was a complete waste of one’s time, and there wasn’t a doubt in Anna’s mind that she would never have a life with Barrington. He’d made it perfectly clear that he had no intention of getting married, and it certainly wasn’t her place to get him to change his mind.
She
was the foolish one if she thought there was any merit in that.

‘Ah, Anna, there you are,’ her father said, walking into the drawing room. ‘Not going out this evening?’

‘I’m not, but it would seem you are,’ she said, rousing herself. ‘Is that a new coat?’

To her amusement, her father’s cheeks took on a ruddy hue. ‘I decided it was time to spruce up my wardrobe. Doesn’t do for a gentleman to let himself go and I haven’t paid much attention to things like that since your mother died.’ His voice softened. ‘I had no reason to.’

‘And have you a reason now?’

He glanced at her, suddenly looking boyish. ‘Would it disturb you if I said I had?’

‘Not at all. I like Julia very much.’ Anna hesitated. ‘I take it we are referring to Julia?’

‘Of course!’

‘Good. Then if she makes you happy, why should I object?’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ the earl grumbled. ‘Some people say I’m past such things. That I’m too old for her. I am nearly twenty years her senior, after all.’

‘If the lady does not mind, why should you? You don’t
look your age, and she
is
past thirty, Papa. Old enough to make her own decisions.’

Her father glanced down at the floor. ‘Your brother is not pleased by the association.’

Anna sighed. ‘My brother is not pleased with anything at the moment so I shouldn’t worry about it. Do what I do. Ignore him.’

‘Can you not try to get along, Anna? He is your brother, after all.’

‘Yes, he is, but I cannot bring myself to like the way he treats people; his attitude towards Peregrine is abysmal. He demonstrates a resentment that is neither warranted nor deserved. I’ve tried to tell him as much, but he refuses to listen.’

Her father looked as though he wanted to say something, but then he sighed, and shook his head. ‘I blame myself for the distance between the two of you. Perhaps had I paid more attention to Edward when he was younger—’

‘The fault is not yours, Papa,’ Anna interrupted firmly. ‘Edward has been given every opportunity to show himself the better man. He has wealth and position—there is absolutely no reason for him to be so harsh and judgemental towards others.’

‘Perhaps he will change when he meets the right woman. It is my sincere wish that you both find suitable marriage partners and leave this house to start your own lives.’ Her father regarded her hopefully. ‘Is there no one for whom you feel even the slightest affection, my dear?’

Sadly, there was. But while Anna would have liked to give her father the reassurance he so desperately craved, there was no point in raising his hopes. Or hers. ‘I fear not. But am I such a trouble to you that you would try to make me leave?’

‘Far from it. You’re a good girl, Anna. And though I don’t
say it often, I am very proud of you. A week doesn’t go by that some grateful mother doesn’t tell me how helpful you’ve been in smoothing the troubled waters between her and her daughter. Most of them credit you with having saved their sanity!’

Surprised by the admission, Anna said, ‘I can assure you they were exaggerating. None of the situations was that dire. It is simply easier for a stranger to see what needs to be done than someone who is intimately involved.’

‘Nevertheless, they all told me how helpful you were and that I should be very proud to have such an admirable young woman for a daughter. And I told them all they were right.’

Her father was not normally an affectionate man, so when he suddenly bent down and pressed his lips to her forehead, Anna was deeply moved. ‘Oh, Papa.’ She got up and hugged him, aware that it had been a long time since she’d done so. If this was Julia’s doing, she could only hope that the romance continued.

‘Yes, well, I’d best be off,’ the earl said gruffly. He stepped back and smoothed his jacket. ‘Jul—that is, the baroness and I are having dinner together and then going on to the theatre.’

‘Sounds lovely. Have a good time.’

‘Yes, I expect we will.’

Anna smiled as she watched him go. It was strange to suddenly find herself in the role of the parent. She was well aware that she was the one who should have been going out for the evening and her father the one wishing her well. But there was only one man with whom Anna wished to spend time and the chances of that happening were getting slimmer all the time.

* * *

Troubled as he was by his feelings for Anna, Barrington knew he couldn’t afford to ignore his other commissions. In
particular, the locating of Miss Elizabeth Paisley. His belief that he’d found her at Baroness von Brohm’s house had turned out to be false. He had gone back a few days later to question her, but the moment she’d walked into the drawing room, he’d known he was mistaken. The maid’s name was Justine Smith, and though she was the right age, the right height, and had the right colour hair, her eyes were all wrong. Hers had actually been a pale misty blue where the Colonel had specifically told him that Elizabeth Paisley’s were a deep, clear green. Barrington thought that in the candlelit room the night of the baroness’s dinner party, he must have been mistaken when he’d thought the maid’s eyes were green.

And so, at eleven o’clock that morning, Barrington resumed his investigation by visiting the premises of one Madame Delors, fashionable modiste. Dressmakers were privy to a great deal of gossip about wives and mistresses, and if someone had taken over the protection of Miss Elizabeth Paisley, there was a good chance Madame Delors would know about it.

Barrington stopped inside the door and glanced around the compact little shop. It was years since he’d had reason to frequent such an establishment, but it was evident they hadn’t changed. Bolts of richly coloured fabric of every type and shade filled the shelves; dress patterns were tacked to the walls; and in the centre of the room stood a raised podium surrounded on three sides by mirrors.

‘Bonjour, monsieur,’ called a charmingly accented French voice. ‘Puis-je vous aidez?’

The owner of the establishment was small and compact, with dark inquisitive eyes and a head of flaming red hair that surely owed more to artifice than it did to nature. Still, it suited her well and Barrington doffed his hat.
‘Bonjour, madame.
My name is Sir Barrington Parker. I would like to ask you a few questions, if you have a moment to spare.’

The woman’s eyes narrowed, his comment obviously having put her on guard. ‘What kind of questions,
monsieur?’

‘About a woman.’ He purposely didn’t use the term lady. ‘One I believe you dressed in the not-too-distant past.’

‘I dress many women,
monsieur.
You will ‘ave to give me ‘er name.’

‘Miss Elizabeth Paisley. Petite, lovely, with dark brown hair and uncommonly pretty green eyes.’

The modiste evidenced neither surprise nor recognition. ‘I do not think I know the lady.’

‘Really? I was told you’d made clothes for her. Perhaps you dealt with the gentleman who bought them. A Colonel Tanner?’

Madame Delors obviously knew a thing or two about what one did and didn’t say to gentlemen asking questions about other gentlemen’s ladies. ‘I ‘ave many gentlemen coming to buy clothes for their ladies,
monsieur.
But they do not always give me the names of the ladies they are buying for.’

‘No, I suppose not. And perhaps I should explain my interest in her.’ Barrington walked farther into the store, cataloguing a thousand details in a single glance. ‘Miss Paisley has recently come under my protection and it is my desire that she wear…a particular type of clothing when we are together. But because her taste and mine do not coincide, I am not willing to allow her to come in and order her own garments. Hence my reason for coming to see you today.’

‘Ah,
je comprends,’
Madame Delors said. ‘You would like me to make ‘er a new wardrobe suitable only for you.’

‘Precisely. Naturally, money is not a concern.’

‘D’accord.
What type of clothes do you wish to see ‘er in,
monsieur?’

‘Intimate evening gowns, white and silver only, with simple but elegant lines. Semi-transparent. No heavy swatches of
lace. No artificial birds or flowers. Nothing that will detract from the tantalising lines of her body.’

Madame Delors slowly began to smile. ‘So the lady will not be wearing these gowns in public?’

‘Definitely not,’ Barrington said, resting both hands on the carved head of his ebony cane. ‘They are for my eyes only. But I cannot tell you what size to make her garments because I do not have her measurements.’

Madame Delors smiled and nodded. ‘I think I know the lady you speak of,
monsieur.’

‘Excellent. I trust it hasn’t been too long since you last saw her? Women’s figures do tend to change,’ Barrington said, adding with a wink, ‘a little more weight this week, a little less the following.’

Madame Delors’s smile was reassuring. ‘I saw ‘er not all that long ago and ‘er figure ‘as not changed.’

‘Good. Did she seem happy?’

The modiste gave a snort. ‘The ladies come to me for clothes,
monsieur.
It is up to you gentlemen to make them ‘appy!’

Barrington carefully hid a smile. Oh, yes, Madame Delors was definitely a shrewd business woman. He pulled three coins from his pocket. ‘Do you happen to remember, on the occasion of her last visit,’ he said, dropping one into her palm, ‘if she collected the clothes herself or if you sent them somewhere else?’

The modiste’s eyes locked on the shimmer of gold in her hand. ‘I’m not sure…’

Barrington dropped another coin. ‘Perhaps now?’

‘The lady picked up the clothes,’ the modiste said slowly, ‘but I sent the bill to the gentleman.’

‘To Colonel Tanner?’

When the modiste shook her head, Barrington dropped
the last of the coins into her palm. ‘Then to whom did you send the bill?’

The modiste smiled and pocketed all three. ‘Viscount Hayle.’

* * *

Anna was on her way to visit Julia when she remembered that Madame Delors had sent her a note asking her if she might be able to come in for a fitting. Anna had ordered two new morning dresses and a ball gown the previous week; although most fashionable modistes made house calls to their better clients, Madame Delors preferred to have her ladies come to her, saying it was easier to work in her showroom where she had everything necessary for making the required alternations.

Anna didn’t mind. It was an excuse to get out of the house and it wasn’t that much out of her way. But as she walked up to the front of the shop and went to open the door, it was suddenly opened from within and by none other than the man who had been uppermost in her mind for the last several days. ‘Sir Barrington!’

‘Good morning, Lady Annabelle. Lovely morning, isn’t it?’ He spoke without concern, as though it was the most natural thing in the world for her to find him coming out of a dressmaker’s shop.

‘Indeed. I feared it might come on to rain, but the skies have cleared up nicely.’ Anna said, striving to match the casualness of his tone. There was only one reason a single gentleman frequented a shop like this, and it wasn’t to keep abreast of the latest fashions. ‘I’ve not seen much of you about town of late.’