LITMIR.BIZ

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his parents had instilled good moral values in him.

      Why should that change simply because he was visiting London for the first time?

      ‘And you are quite sure of your facts?’ Cambermere said unhappily.

      ‘Quite.’ Barrington walked unhurriedly around the earl’s study. It was a comfortable room—masculine yet not oppressively so, with large leather chairs, several glass-fronted bookcases and a large mahogany desk, the surface of which was covered with papers and estate ledgers. Tall windows bracketed a portrait of the fifth Earl of Cambermere, the present earl’s father, and on the wall opposite hung one of a lady Barrington suspected of being the late Lady Cambermere.

      Obviously, the earl liked looking at his wife’s portrait. Perhaps she’d spent time with him here, keeping him company while he worked on the complexities of estate business. Certainly there was evidence of a woman’s touch in the room: the brass candlesticks on the side table; the throw cushions that picked up the dark blue of the curtains; the warmth of the Axminster carpet. All the small, homely things that turned a house into a home. All the things his own house was so noticeably lacking.

      ‘I never lay charges without being sure, my Lord,’ Barrington said. ‘It wastes time and inflicts unnecessary pain on the innocent. Mr Rand’s activities were confirmed by a family member who saw the two enter Lady Yew’s chamber and by a friend of mine who happened to be in the house at the same time as Rand. He was quite specific about the details of Mr Rand’s visit, right up until the time he and the lady went upstairs arm in arm.’ Barrington turned to face the older man. ‘And regardless of whether or not what took place upstairs was of an intimate nature, you know as well as I do that his being alone with the marchioness is more than enough to convict him.’

      ‘Damn!’ the earl swore again. ‘I never expected behaviour like this from Peregrine. Edward’s always been one for the ladies. God knows how many have lost their hearts to him. But he’s a good-looking lad and as charming as they come.’

      ‘Has he shown no interest in marrying?’

      ‘No, and at almost twenty-six, he’s of an age where that’s exactly what he should be turning his mind to,’ the earl said testily. ‘I’ve told him as much, but he doesn’t pay heed to me. Says he’ll marry when he’s good and ready and not a moment before.’

      ‘So he likes to play the field,’ Barrington said.

      ‘Always has. But Rand isn’t inclined that way. In the time he’s been here, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk about a woman, let alone embroil himself in a sordid affair with one. My daughter was right in that regard.’

      Barrington didn’t bother to offer a reply. Family dynamics were neither of importance nor of interest to him. Emotion had to be kept separate from fact or everything risked drowning in sentimentality. Some might consider him cold for harbouring such a belief, but as far as he was concerned, it was the only way to do business. ‘My Lord, I trust you appreciate the gravity of the situation,’ he said bluntly. ‘Lord Yew is understandably angry that his wife entered into an intimate relationship with another man; while it is correct to say that the lady is equally to blame, it is the gentleman the marquess intends to punish.’

      ‘Of course,’ Cambermere agreed. ‘Men are always at fault in these situations. Well, what do you propose we do about it?’

      Barrington was about to answer when the door to the room burst open and Lady Annabelle swept in, all blazing eyes and righteous indignation. ‘Forgive me, Papa, but I simply cannot stand by and allow Sir Barrington’s accusation to go unchallenged. Peregrine would never do something like this. It runs contrary to everything he stands for—which leads me to believe that it must be Sir Barrington’s information that is in error.’

      Barrington stared at the woman standing just inside the door, aware that she truly was magnificent. The candlelight deepened her hair to a rich, burnished gold and, in the dim light, her eyes shone a clear, deep blue. She was like a golden lioness protecting her cub. He almost hated having to be the one to prove her wrong. ‘I have someone ready to swear that Mr Rand spent time alone with the marchioness in her private rooms, Lady Annabelle,’ he said quietly. ‘I need not tell you how damaging such a disclosure would be.’

      He saw her eyes widen and knew that she did indeed appreciate the gravity of what he’d just said. But it was equally clear that she still didn’t believe him. ‘How do you know your witness was telling the truth, Sir Barrington? You have only his word that what he claims to have happened really did. I know Peregrine and I can assure you that he is not the type of man—’

      ‘Anna, please,’ her father interrupted. ‘If Sir Barrington says he has proof of Peregrine’s guilt, we must believe him.’

      ‘But why? If he only took the time to speak with Peregrine, he would know that what he is suggesting is quite impossible.’

      Cambermere sighed. ‘You must forgive my daughter, Sir Barrington. She has grown uncommonly fond of my godson in the short time he’s been here and is clearly reluctant to hear ill spoken of him.’

      ‘I understand,’ Barrington said, wondering if the closeness between the lady and Mr Rand had anything to do with the fact that they might well be brother and sister. ‘Is Mr Rand spending the rest of the Season with you?’

      The earl nodded. ‘That was the plan. His father and I are … old friends. We were … at school together,’ he said, glancing at a file on his desk. ‘Haven’t seen him in years, of course, but I was at his wedding and agreed to stand as godfather to his firstborn.’ He turned towards the window, his face half in shadow. ‘A few months ago, I received a letter from him, telling me that his wife had died and asking if I’d be willing to take Peregrine for a few months. Show him the sights of London, that sort of thing.’

      ‘And you agreed.’

      ‘I thought it the right thing to do.’ The earl swallowed hard, his voice when he spoke gruff. ‘He is my godson, after all.’

      Barrington nodded, not sure whether it was grief or regret that shadowed the earl’s voice. ‘Are you aware of the company your godson keeps, Lord Cambermere?’

      ‘Can’t say that I am. His interests run vastly different to mine. He doesn’t ride, he prefers not to hunt and I don’t believe he’s all that partial to moving in society. As my daughter said, he would rather spend his evenings with a book.’

      Or in the marchioness’s bed. ‘Do you know where he is this evening?’ Barrington enquired.

      He saw the look that passed between Cambermere and his daughter, but wasn’t surprised when the earl said, ‘No. As I said, I don’t make a study of the boy’s comings and goings.’

      ‘Yet you said Lady Annabelle usually goes with him to social engagements.’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Then why is she not with him tonight?’ Barrington asked.

      Barrington glanced at Lady Annabelle as he waited for a response. What little he knew of her encouraged him to believe that she would give him an honest answer. But when he saw her colour rise and her golden brows knit together, he suspected she already had. ‘I see.’

      ‘No, you don’t see!’ Lady Annabelle said quickly. ‘Peregrine didn’t ask me to accompany him because he was going to visit someone with whom he was already acquainted. It wasn’t necessary that I go along.’

      ‘Were you not surprised that you did not also receive an invitation to the reception?’

      ‘Not at all. There are often events to which I am invited that other members of my family are not,’ she explained. ‘We may move in the same circles, Sir Barrington, but we do not have all the same friends.’

      Barrington knew there was nothing to be gained in challenging the remark. Lady Annabelle was trying to defend Mr Rand—and failing badly in the attempt. ‘Lord Cambermere,’ he said finally, ‘my client

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