Brushed by Scandal by Gail Whitiker Page B

likely stemmed from the difference in their upbringings. Edward had been raised in a nobleman’s house and was heir to an earldom, whereas Peregrine had been raised on a farm with parents who, though comfortable, were neither titled nor gentry.
    Still, he was a guest in their home and he deserved better. Anna liked him very much. Despite his obvious lack of sophistication, he was good natured and quick to laugh and didn’t belittle her efforts the way Edward did. He admired her for caring enough about the welfare of others to get involved and he also liked many of the same things she did, so they frequently found themselves laughing together at the various social events they went to.
    Edward, on the other hand, was never to be found in the same room as Peregrine. Supremely conscious of his own position in society, he sought the company of those equal to him or blessed with a higher status. If there was a snob in the Durst family, it was definitely her brother.
    Reaching Peregrine’s door, Anna raised her hand and knocked. ‘Peregrine?’ When she heard no response, she waited a moment and then tentatively pushed it open.
    He wasn’t there. Worse, his bed hadn’t been slept in.
    Anna felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach.
Where had he spent the night and where was he now?
Equally important, what kind of mood was he in? Peregrine was anuncommonly sensitive man. If her father had falsely accused him of having an affair with Lady Yew, Peregrine might well have left the house angry and embarrassed that his godfather would believe such shameful lies about him. But where could he have gone?
    There was only one way to find out. Heading to her bedroom, Anna fetched her bonnet and gloves. Returning to the hall, she rang for Milford and asked to be told where Sir Barrington Parker lived.
    * * *
    ‘Lady Annabelle Durst, Sir Barrington,’ Sam said quietly.
    Barrington looked up from the deed of land he had been perusing and saw the lady standing in his doorway. She looked like a breath of summer in a gown of pale yellow silk trimmed with deeper yellow ribbons, an elegant wide-brimmed bonnet perched atop her golden hair. Her lips were a soft dusky rose, but her blue eyes appeared unusually bright against the pallor of her skin. She was distraught and, recognising that, he rose at once. ‘Lady Annabelle.’
    ‘I hope my timing is not inconvenient, Sir Barrington.’
    ‘Not at all. Pray come in. Bring your maid, if you wish.’
    ‘No, I would rather speak to you privately.’ Lady Annabelle waved the girl into a chair outside his study. ‘I cannot bear not knowing.’
    So, it was curiosity that had compelled her to come. Obviously, she hadn’t spoken to her father yet. Barrington indicated the high-back chair in front of the fireplace. ‘Won’t you sit down?’
    She did not. Visibly upset, she began to pace. Barrington understood the compulsion. He had been a pacer once himself. ‘May I ring for tea?’
    ‘Thank you.’ This time, she did look at him. ‘That would be most welcome.’
    He glanced at Sam, who nodded and quietly withdrew.
    For a moment Barrington said nothing, more interested in studying her than he was in initiating a conversation. She was as beautiful as ever, but this morning she looked to be drawn as tight as a finely strung bow. He had a feeling that if he pulled too hard, she would snap. ‘What did you wish to ask me, Lady Annabelle?’ he said softly.
    Her head turned towards him, her blue eyes filled with misgivings. ‘Have you seen my father this morning?’
    ‘I have.’
    ‘And? Did he speak to you about Peregrine?’
    Barrington nodded, aware that he was far more in control of his emotions than she was of hers. ‘Are you sure you won’t sit down?’
    ‘Please…just tell me,’ she implored. ‘I wanted to ask Peregrine myself, but he wasn’t in his room this morning; by the looks of his bed, he hadn’t slept there at all.’
    ‘I suspect he did not,’ Barrington agreed. ‘Lord