Anna bit her lip. ‘You don’t think Peregrine…?’
‘Peregrine?’ Anna was relieved to see a look of genuine shock appear on her father’s face. ‘Why on earth would he turn on me in such a manner?’
‘Perhaps because of the situation with Lady Yew. He was angry and hurt that you didn’t believe him when Sir Barrington accused him of having an affair.’
‘Rightly so, given that it turned out Parker was correct.’
Reminded of the man who had brought this terrible news into the house, Anna felt a red-hot wave of anger. How dare he disrupt her family’s life like this? She had been willing to believe him up until now, but not this time. He and he alone was the cause of her father’s humiliation and unhappiness.
‘Then I shall go to Sir Barrington myself. I will demand that he tell me who his source is and have him explain why he would believe such a ridiculous lie.’
‘You’re bringing emotion into it,’ her father warned. ‘Parker doesn’t deal in emotion. He deals in facts.’
‘Not any more,’ Anna said tersely. ‘This time, he is dealing with emotions. Yours and mine and Julia’s. And by the time I’m through with him, he is going to know exactly how challenging dealing with an emotional woman can be!’
* * *
Barrington was in the long gallery sparring with his brother-in-law when his secretary arrived to tell him that Lady Annabelle Durst had called and was waiting below.
‘Shall I inform her that you are engaged, Sir Barrington?’ Sam asked.
‘No.’ Barrington slowly lowered his foil. ‘Ask her to wait in the salon. I shall be there directly.’
‘Lady Annabelle Durst,’ Tom repeated after the secretary left. ‘The Earl of Cambermere’s daughter?’
‘Yes.’
‘Interesting. Is she calling on a business matter or may I have the pleasure of telling your sister that a lady has finally caught her brother’s eye?’
‘You may definitely not tell her that because this is not a social call,’ Barrington muttered. ‘Lady Annabelle is here with regards to an investigation.’
‘Pity. A liaison with Cambermere’s daughter would do much to lessen Jenny’s disappointment over what happened with Lady Alice,’ Tom remarked.
‘Duly noted,’ Barrington said, ushering his brother-in-law towards the door. He wasn’t about to tell Tom that appeasing his sister was the least of his worries right now. ‘I trust you can see yourself out.’
Without waiting for an answer, Barrington hurried to his bedroom to change into more appropriate attire. The coming confrontation was not going to be easy and he needed to be prepared. A fact proven true when he opened the door to the salon five minutes later and Anna flew at him like a tigress on the attack. ‘How could you do this?’ she demanded.
‘Do what?’
‘Accuse my father of stealing the baroness’s necklace. You know he would never do such a thing!’
Barrington slowly closed the door behind him. ‘I did what I had to after receiving information from a credible source—’
‘Damn your credible sources!’ Anna cried. ‘We’re talking about my father. And you know as well as I do that he would never steal anything from anyone! Especially Julia!’
‘Calm yourself, Anna. I didn’t say that I believed what I had been told, nor did I charge your father with any crime. But I was given a piece of information and it was my duty to follow it up. So I asked him a few questions.’
‘What kind of questions?’
‘That is between your father and myself,’ he replied evasively.
‘But I don’t understand. If you don’t believe him guilty, why are you putting him through all this?’
‘Because there are procedures that must be followed.’ Barrington linked his hands behind his back and slowly walked towards the window. ‘When did he tell you of my visit?’
‘He didn’t,’ Anna said tightly. ‘Edward did.’
‘Edward?’ Barrington’s head came up. ‘When?’
‘Last night. He waited until I arrived home to tell me that you had called to see Father. I assumed it had something to do with Peregrine, but Edward said you had come to see Papa about the theft of Julia’s necklace.’
Barrington didn’t trouble to hide his surprise. ‘I wonder how he knew? Your brother wasn’t in the room when I spoke to your father.’
‘He must have been standing outside in the corridor listening to your conversation,’ Anna said. ‘Edward is not above doing such things, especially if he thought you’d come to see my father about Peregrine.’
‘I see,’ Barrington said quietly. He was beginning to have his own suspicions about Viscount Hayle, but knew it was best he keep them to himself for the time being. ‘What did your father say when you spoke to him?’
‘He told me what you had accused him of, but said that you would not name the person who had made this foul accusation against him,’ Anna said in a low voice. ‘How could you not tell him, Barrington? Surely my father has a right to know who is bringing these charges against him.’
‘He will. But for now, I thought it best not to reveal too much. To say something out of turn won’t do anyone any good,’ he advised.
‘But you must know what this will do to his reputation,’ she said, ‘whether it turns out to be true or not. Why can’t you just say that the other person is lying and proclaim my father innocent?’
‘Because until I am convinced of the part that everyone has played in this, I’m not willing to say who is guilty and who is not.’
‘But you just said my father didn’t do it—and why would he? He likes Julia,’ Anna said. ‘Why on earth would he jeop-ardise a possible future with her by stealing something so precious to her?’
‘Trust me when I tell you that thought has already occurred to me.’ Barrington hesitated a moment before saying, ‘You said Edward spoke to you about your father?’
‘Yes.’
‘It hasn’t escaped my notice that there is a certain amount of tension between your father and your brother at the moment,’ he said.
‘It’s hardly surprising,’ Anna said in a voice of resignation. ‘Papa is pressuring Edward to marry Lady Harriet Green and Edward wants nothing to do with it.’
‘Why? Is he opposed to the idea of marriage or just the lady your father wishes him to wed?’
‘A bit of both, I think,’ Anna admitted. ‘Papa thinks very highly of Lady Harriet and he’s told Edward so any number of times. He says she possesses all the qualities necessary to be the next Countess of Cambermere.’
‘And your brother doesn’t share his opinion.’
‘Edward says that who he marries is no one’s business but his own. I suppose he’s right, but Papa is concerned about the future of the family. He says Edward has lived the life of the gentleman about town long enough and that it’s time he settled down to his obligations.’
‘Which means marrying and producing an heir,’ Barrington said.
‘Precisely.’
‘Are there no other members of the family capable of doing so?’ Barrington asked. ‘I believe your father has several brothers and sisters?’
‘Two brothers, one sister,’ Anna said. ‘Aunt Hestia is married to a Scottish laird and lives in Edinburgh. I remember meeting her when I was about six and not liking her very much. She has two girls. Father’s youngest brother, Cyril, went away to France and was eventually killed in battle, and his next eldest brother sailed off to China and never came back. I suspect he knew he wouldn’t have much of a life, given that Papa was heir.’
‘So it is up to Edward to continue the family name,’ Barrington said thoughtfully.
‘Yes, and given that he is showing absolutely no inclination to do so, it is only to be expected that relations between him and my father are strained,’ Anna sighed.
‘Yes, I can see why they would be,’ Barrington said. ‘Anna, I cannot share with you what I was told, but I promise I will do everything I can to get to the truth of the matte
r.’
‘There is only one truth: that is that my father is innocent of this vile charge,’ Anna said, raising her chin in defiance. ‘I don’t care what manner of evidence has been brought against him. He is a good man. An honourable man. And if you don’t believe that, we have absolutely nothing more to say to one another.’
Chapter Ten
The evidence against her father was damning, Barrington reflected in the silence after Anna left. It was part of the reason he hadn’t been willing to share it with her. He was loathe to provide her with details of a circumstance that would put the blame for the theft squarely on her father’s shoulders and give her undeniable proof that the earl and the baroness were engaged in an intimate relationship. But that was what the messenger had told him and what he was obligated to follow up on.
A servant in the baroness’s household had seen Lord Cambermere take the necklace after leaving the baroness sleeping peacefully in her bed. Apparently, the maid had gone into her mistress’s bedroom, expecting her lady to be alone, and had discovered the earl in the act of taking the necklace from the jewellery case. She claimed that Lord Cambermere hadn’t seen her, but that from where she had been standing, she’d had a clear view of the proceedings. After locking the jewellery box, the earl had slipped the necklace into the pocket of his coat, and then returned to the baroness’s bed.
The baroness had not woken and, shocked beyond words, the maid had backed quietly out of the room.
Barrington sighed. It might be only the word of a servant against that of an earl, but the messenger had provided details too specific to be dismissed as fabrication or hoax. Details of the room’s interior. A description of the jewellery box. Even where the dressing table was located in relation to the bed, what colour the curtains were, and what manner of knick-knacks had adorned the top of the bedside table. Only a maid, with unrestricted access to the baroness’s bedroom, would have been able to provide details like that.
Besides, what reason had she to lie? She claimed to have no prior knowledge of the earl. She hadn’t worked in his household and had no reason to hold a grudge against him. All she cared about was her mistress and how upset she had been when she’d found out the necklace was missing. It was that grief, combined with a sense of loyalty, that had prompted Miss Smith to tell someone what she had seen that night. And, in turn, for that person to tell the man who’d met with Barrington in the darkened garden.
If it was true, it meant Cambermere had certainly had the opportunity to commit the crime. But he still lacked a motive and Barrington didn’t believe anything was done without motive. Dogs barked because they were frightened. Beggars stole because they were starving. Prostitutes sold their bodies because they needed a roof over their heads.
What reason had Cambermere for stealing?
Barrington idly picked up a piece of Venetian glass, turning it over in his fingers as his mind went back over his various encounters with the earl. Was it possible the man had serious debts? His home was quite grand, but there had been an air of genteel shabbiness about the place. Small signs of neglect a less observant person might have overlooked. Worn patches on the arms of the chairs. The burgundy velvet curtains faded, their bottom edges frayed. Even the mahogany desk had been in need of a good polish.
Barrington had originally put it down to a lack of interest on the earl’s part, a sad consequence of Lady Cambermere’s death. But now he wondered if it might be an indication of something more. Even the earl’s appearance had been wanting, now that Barrington thought about it. Signs of wear at the man’s cuffs. The style of the coat slightly out of date. Boots that had seen better days.
Still, if the earl was having financial difficulties, he wouldn’t be the first peer to fall on hard times. Cambermere owned a house in town and several smaller estates in the English countryside. The upkeep of such establishments commanded a huge outlay of money. It was the reason many cash-strapped peers resorted to marrying heiresses. It was either that or risk sacrificing their family’s land and holdings. But was the earl really in such dire financial straits?
* * *
Surprisingly, it was Lady Bessmel who provided some insight into the situation as the two of them stood chatting over lobster pâté the following evening.
‘Yes, Cambermere has a lovely estate in Kent,’ she told him. ‘I used to visit him and Isabel there quite often.’
‘What was Lady Cambermere like?’ Barrington enquired.
‘Quiet. And thoughtful. She enjoyed London, but she was far happier in the country. She loved her garden and her horses. And her books, of course. She would read for hours on end, saying she found precious little time for it in London.’ Lady Bessmel sighed. ‘I was very sorry when Isabel died. She was…a gentle person. The kind who gave of herself. I believe her death hit Peter quite hard.’
‘Were they in love?’
The countess smiled. ‘As much as anyone in our circle can be, I suppose. It was an arranged marriage, but it turned out quite well. Peter was a good husband. I never heard stories about him keeping a mistress or visiting the brothels. He seemed content with his life, at least until Isabel died. Then he seemed to lose focus. He couldn’t settle to anything. That’s why it’s so nice to see him finally making an effort again.’
‘Making an effort?’ Barrington asked.
‘With the baroness. It can’t have escaped your notice that he is very much taken with her.’
‘Yes, I had noticed.’ Barrington smiled. ‘Can you tell me anything more about the earl? Has he vices?’
‘What man doesn’t? He gambles at cards, but not a great deal, and he drinks no more or less than anyone else. I suppose his greatest weakness is horses.’
‘Horses,’ Barrington repeated. ‘Is he a frequent visitor to the track?’
‘More now than he used to be. I never remember him gambling while Isabel was alive, but a woman’s death can change a man. In the beginning, I think it was simply a diversion,’ Lady Bessmel said. ‘Something to think about other than the fact that his wife wasn’t there any more. But over time it gets into a man’s blood.’
‘Does he win more than he loses?’ he asked idly.
‘Who knows? Dame Fortune can turn either way. One day she smiles on you, the next she spits in your face. I’m sure Peter’s had his share of both, but he’s a private man so I doubt anyone knows the true extent of his winnings. Or of his losses.’
It was a conversation that stayed with Barrington the rest of the night—because if the earl was in serious debt, Barrington had his motive. The baroness’s necklace was worth a small fortune, enough to cover most any man’s debts. And given Cambermere’s position in society, it was unlikely he would have to take the necklace apart. Connections here and abroad would allow him to dispose of the piece without the sale being traced back to him.
But if the earl was hopeful of marrying the baroness, why bother to steal her jewellery? Julia von Brohm was an exceedingly wealthy young woman with more than enough money for the two of them to live on. Of course, being a widow, her money was her own, and, if she chose, she could have a lawyer draw up papers to ensure it stayed that way. If Cambermere needed funds to pay off his gambling debts, he could apply to her, but given that his debts were the result of gambling, she might not wish to put any of her money to them. Barrington remembered a remark she’d once made about gentlemen foolish enough to squander their money on the roll of a dice not being worth the time or the trouble to know. That being the case, he doubted she would willingly give any of her money to a man who had bankrupted himself at the tables or the track.
However, if it was Cambermere’s intention to pay off his debts before he married her so that he could go into the marriage free and clear, he would then be able to use her money to look after the maintenance of his estates. And surely she wouldn’t object to that, given that she would be mistress of them all. So it really came down to two questions.
How deeply in debt had Cambermere landed himself? And how far was he
willing to go to dig himself out?
* * *
The next morning Anna called for her horse to be saddled and went for a much-needed ride. She feared she might explode if she stayed at home any longer. Trying to read, or doing any one of a hundred and one other things that would normally have distracted her, would be of no use today. She needed to get out of the house and away from her thoughts.
Her father had already done so. Having been offered an invitation to a shooting party, he had left for the weekend gathering at a house about ten miles outside London. It was only to be a small gathering of gentlemen, but Anna knew her father would find comfort in their company. But it did leave her at loose ends. Peregrine was still quiet and withdrawn as he struggled through his own emotional healing and Edward was scarcely at home.
And Barrington didn’t call.
Anna told herself she was glad of that. After all, they had nothing to say to one another. She’d made it quite plain that to take a stand against her father was to take a stand against her, and Barrington had made his own position perfectly clear. He intended to pursue the investigation against her father; in the absence of any other, her father was still the main suspect.
Well, loyalty and emotion might mean nothing to him, but they meant everything to Anna. She believed unequivocally that her father was innocent. Barrington was trying to prove him not guilty. There was a subtle but distinct difference.
Unfortunately, as much as Anna had hoped that fresh air and brisk exercise might distract her, neither served to ease her mind. She felt no more relaxed when she arrived home than when she’d left. And when Peregrine emerged from the drawing room, white-faced and shaken, her spirits plummeted even further. ‘Goodness, Peregrine, what’s wrong? You look positively ill.’
‘Thank God you’re back! Come in here!’ he said urgently. ‘And close the door.’
Anna did, wearily hoping his agitation had nothing to do with Lady Yew. She wasn’t sure she could cope with one more piece of bad news—or with the mention of that woman’s name again. ‘What’s this all about? If you tell me you’ve seen the marchioness—’
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