me, my lady, but a gentleman has called and is asking to see Mr Rand.’
Anna glanced at the clock on the mantel. Half past eight. Somewhat late for a social call. ‘Did you tell him Mr Rand was from home?’
‘I did, but he said it was a matter of some urgency and wondered if you knew what time he might be home.’
‘Lord knows, I certainly don’t.’ With a sigh, Anna set her book aside. ‘Did the gentleman leave his card?’
Milford bowed and silently proffered the tray. Anna took the card and read the name. Sir Barrington Parker. How strange. She knew the man by reputation rather than by sight. A wealthy baronet with an impressive home, he was, by all accounts, a cultured, educated and exceedingly charming man who was also reputed to be one of London’s finest swordsmen. The story went that he’d spent several years in Paris training under a legendary French master; when his father’s death had compelled him to return to England, Sir Barrington had been besieged by the pinks of society asking him to teach them his skills. With very few exceptions, he had refused every request.
Why, then, would he be here now, asking after a man with whom he was unlikely to have even the slightest acquaintance? ‘Ask him to come in, Milford. Then inform my father that we have a visitor.’
The butler bowed. ‘Very good, my lady.’
The wait was not long. Moments later, the door opened again and Milford announced, ‘Sir Barrington Parker.’
Anna rose as the butler withdrew, but the moment the baronet arrived she stopped dead, totally unprepared for the sight of the man standing in her doorway. ‘You!’
‘Good evening, Lady Annabelle.’ Sir Barrington Parker strolled into the room, as impeccably turned out as he had been the night of Lady Montby’s reception. His dark jacket fit superbly across a pair of broad shoulders, his buff-coloured breeches outlined strong, muscular thighs and his cravat was simply yet elegantly tied. ‘I told you an occasion would present itself whereby our introduction could be made in a more acceptable manner.’
‘You did indeed,’ Anna said, struggling to recover from her surprise. She’d thought about him several times since meeting him at Lady Montby’s, and, while she’d found him a powerful presence there, he was, in the small confines of the drawing room, even more compelling. ‘I simply did not think it would be in my own home or that the illustrious Sir Barrington Parker would turn out to be the gentleman with whom I exchanged opinions the other night.’
‘Illustrious?’ His beautiful mouth lifted in a disturbingly sensual smile. ‘I fear you are confusing me with someone else.’
‘On the contrary, rumour has it that you are an excellent fencer and an unparalleled shot. And that you’ve uncovered more than your fair share of secrets about those who move in the upper reaches of society.’
His smile was indulgent, much like that of a teacher addressing an errant pupil. ‘You and I both know how foolish it is to put stock in rumours, Lady Annabelle. One never knows how or why they start and most often they are proven to be wrong.’
‘Do you deny that it was you who exposed Lord Bosker as an embezzler?’ Anna said. ‘Or that you just happened upon that letter naming his fine, upstanding cousin, Mr Teetham, as his accomplice?’
‘I tend to think the timing was, for the most part, coincidental,’ Sir Barrington said, careful to avoid a direct answer. ‘Their crimes would have come to light soon enough. They grew careless, too confident in their own ability to deceive.’
‘But you were the one who drew attention to what they were doing,’ Anna persisted. ‘Had you not, they would most likely have continued in their games and who knows what other crimes they would have perpetrated. But forgive my manners, Sir Barrington. Pray be seated.’
‘Thank you. And while your confidence in my ability is flattering, I should tell you it is entirely misplaced.’ He glanced at the chairs arranged in front of the fireplace and settled into the wingback chair opposite the one upon which her book lay open. ‘There were other people involved in their arrest and to a far greater extent than myself. But, as we are talking about other people’s affairs, how did matters proceed between Miss Banks and Lieutenant Blokker after you and I parted company the other night?’
Surprised he would even remember the conversation, Anna managed a smile. ‘Remarkably well, all things considered. Lieutenant Blokker turned out to be a delightful young man and I realized, after speaking with him, that while the manner of his approach to Miss Banks left much to be desired, his intentions were strictly honourable.’
‘Ah yes, the ill-fated rendezvous in the garden,’ Sir Barrington mused. ‘Not the best thought out of plans, but thanks to you no harm came of it.’
‘And thanks to you, the two are now formally introduced and eager to begin a courtship,’ Anna said. ‘But I don’t suppose Miss Banks’s romantic escapades have anything to do with your reason for being here this evening.’
‘Regrettably, they do not. I was actually hoping to speak to your house guest, Mr Rand, but I understand he is from home.’
‘Yes, he is.’ Anna gazed at him, surprised to feel her heart beating a little faster than usual. Obviously she wasn’t used to being alone with such a disturbingly handsome man. ‘I wasn’t aware the two of you were acquainted.’
His dark brows arched ever so slightly. ‘Are you acquainted with all of Mr Rand’s friends and associates, Lady Annabelle?’
‘As a matter of fact, I am. Peregrine has only recently come to stay with us, and, given how anxious my father was that he become known in society, I took the liberty of including him in all of my social activities,’ Anna said. ‘That being the case, I think I can safely say that I do know with whom he is and is not acquainted. I have never heard him speak of you.’
Briefly, the gentleman smiled, but while it softened the lines of his face, it did nothing to lessen the intensity of the expression in his eyes. ‘I am not acquainted with Mr Rand, Lady Annabelle, nor is he with me,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve come here at the behest of another, on a matter of extreme urgency to both.’
‘An urgent matter?’
‘Yes. One I would prefer to discuss in private with the gentleman. Or, failing that, with your father, if he is at home.’
‘He is, Sir Barrington,’ Lord Cambermere said, walking into the room. ‘But if Edward has done something that warrants discussion—’
‘It is not Edward Sir Barrington wishes to speak to you about, Papa,’ Anna said calmly. ‘It is Peregrine. And there is no point in my giving you privacy since we both know Peregrine will tell me everything the three of you say the moment Sir Barrington leaves.’
‘He may not wish to tell you this,’ Sir Barrington said, slowly getting to his feet. ‘And I would prefer to speak to you about it in private, my Lord.’
Cambermere frowned. He was a tall, solidly built man with warm brown eyes, a ruddy complexion and dark hair that was just beginning to show signs of grey at the temples. His clothes were more suited to a country gentleman than a man about town, but now that his year of mourning was over, Anna was hopeful he might once again take up an interest in socialising, and, by necessity, his appearance.
‘Yes,
