Revenge In Regency Society. Gail Whitiker

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ he raised it to his nose and gently inhaled. Yes, it was still there … a lingering trace of her fragrance, the scent sweet but sensually provocative. An echo of the lady herself. He set the parchment down and walked slowly towards the long window, his mind filled with thoughts of Anna.

      It was a long time since a woman had affected him to this degree. Indeed, he wasn’t sure one ever had. For the most part, he’d always believed aristocratic ladies to be like exotic birds: lovely to look at, but troublesome to own. They strutted around society’s stage like the fragile, inconsequential creatures they were, generally offering nothing of substance beyond the ability to play the piano or paint pretty pictures. It was the reason he had found commitment so easy to avoid.

      But Lady Annabelle was neither fragile nor inconsequential. She was intelligent. Passionate. The quintessential lady and beautiful beyond all. But beauty without soul had never appealed to him, and it was because she cared so much about other people that Barrington found himself so strongly attracted to her. She cared about Mercy Banks and the host of other silly young women who needed her help in extricating themselves from situations that could have ruined them. She cared about her country visitor, who might well be her half-brother, and about her father, who, with typical male arrogance, was ready to dismiss everything she said. Yes, admirable indeed was the Lady Annabelle Durst. A lady worth getting to know.

      And yet, as a result of what had passed between them, Barrington doubted a deeper acquaintance was possible. In his hand, he held her acknowledgement that she had been wrong, and he right. That was the first strike against him. He had proven everything she had most desperately wanted not to believe. She had stood up for a man who hadn’t deserved her loyalty, and she had been let down. Matters would never be easy between them now.

      Still, now that he knew the truth about Rand, he would do everything he could to mitigate Lord Yew’s anger and to settle the matter as humanely as possible. As for Rand, if he truly believed himself in love with Lady Yew, he was already suffering enough by having found out what she was really like. No point making it worse by dragging his name through the mud, and by association, the beautiful Lady Anna’s.

      The note Anna received from Sir Barrington later that afternoon was brief, but reassuring.

      Your note was well timed. I met with Lord Yew, and after being assured of Mr Rand’s willingness to see the error of his ways, the marquess is willing to let the matter go. He will settle for a letter and a promise of restraint on Mr Rand’s part and shall consider the matter closed. I have not written to your father. I leave it to you to inform him of the outcome, and Mr Rand. I remain,

      Your most humble servant

      B.

      Anna folded the letter and tapped it against her chin. So, the matter was resolved. The Marquess of Yew had been informed as to the identity of the guilty party and had been willing to accept an olive branch in the form of a promise and a written apology. Sir Barrington had handled the matter admirably. As long as the marquess honoured his word, Peregrine would be free to go about London without the finger of blame being pointed at him at every turn.

      Just as well, since Anna was quite sure he would have bolted had such been the case.

      Unfortunately, as she set out for her afternoon visit to the Baroness von Brohm, Anna realised that the entire affair had left a bad taste in her mouth. Not only were her feelings towards Peregrine affected by what she had learned, but her brief acquaintance with Sir Barrington Parker had been tainted by the events they had both unwittingly been drawn into. She had insinuated that he hadn’t known his business, accused him of misjudgement and gloated when she’d believed him wrong. She owed him an apology.

      But was he the type of man to whom apologising was easy? She remembered the way he had teased her over her steadfast belief in Peregrine’s innocence, mocking her belief in the man’s inability to tell lies. Would he be condescending of her apology now? Had he been waiting for just such a moment to say, ‘I told you so’? Anna hated to think of him as being deliberately cruel, but, not knowing the nature of the man, she had little else to go on.

      She was not at all surprised that thoughts of him occupied her fully during the carriage ride to Mayfair.

      Julia von Brohm was not what Anna had been expecting. Thinking to see a pale, unhappy woman in her mid-forties wearing the unrelieved black of a widow still in mourning for her husband, Anna was surprised to be greeted by a slender and very attractive woman of no more than thirty, garbed in a stunning gown of rich burgundy satin. Her honey-brown hair was arranged in a simple but elegant chignon at the nape of her neck, and her eyes were a clear, bright blue that appeared even brighter against the translucent whiteness of her skin.

      ‘Lady Annabelle,’ the baroness said, extending both hands in greeting. ‘I cannot tell you how pleased I was to receive your note.’

      ‘And likewise, how pleased I was to receive your acceptance,’ Anna said. ‘I regret that my good friend, Lady Lydia Winston, was unable to come, but her mother was taken to bed with a terrible head pain and required her assistance.’

      The baroness’s pretty face softened in sympathy. ‘Poor lady. Having had a mother-in-law who suffered with megrims, I know the role a daughter must play. But I am so pleased that you were brave enough to come on your own.’

      Anna tilted her head to one side. ‘Brave?’

      ‘Come now, Lady Annabella. You must surely have heard the rumours—that I am a lonely widow who cannot stop crying for her late husband. That I am a beautiful woman whose company must be endured, but not enjoyed.’

      The smile came easily to Anna’s lips. ‘I knew you were a widow, Baroness, and I assumed that you would be lonely. But I certainly did not hear that you were dismal company or someone to be avoided. And even if I had, I would have come anyway and drawn my own conclusions.’

      ‘I am very glad to hear it,’ the baroness said in her charmingly accented voice. ‘And I think that you and I are going to become good friends. Ah, Smith,’ she said to the young maid who appeared in the doorway. ‘We shall have tea and a plate of pastries. Cook would be most upset if we did not offer our guest a sampling of her wares.’

      As the maid curtsied and withdrew, the baroness turned back to Anna. ‘I hired most of the staff upon my arrival, but dear Frau Hildenbaum has been with my family since I was a girl. She insisted on coming to London with me and when she heard I was having an English lady to tea, she set to work. She has been baking since early this morning.’

      ‘How delightful, for I confess to a definite weakness for pastries,’ Anna said as she sat down on a comfortable sofa across from the baroness. The room was quite beautiful, the walls papered in pale blue and gold silk, the shades of which were reflected in the carpet and furnishings. An exquisite medieval tapestry was suspended from a brass rod between the two long windows that gave view over the square below, and numerous other works of art adorned the walls. The baroness either had exceptional taste or the good fortune to have ancestors who did.

      Even more stunning was her jewellery. Anna’s eyes were repeatedly drawn to the brooch pinned to the bodice of her gown. It was shaped like a flower, with a single piece of amber in the centre and with petals made up of diamonds and rubies.

      ‘You are admiring my brooch?’ the baroness asked during a lull in the conversation.

      Anna looked up, embarrassed to have been caught staring. ‘Yes. Forgive me, but it is so beautiful.’

      ‘My late husband gave it to me for my twenty-first birthday.’ The baroness’s face glowed. ‘Ulrich spent a lot of time СКАЧАТЬ