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me you’re talking about the marchioness?’
    ‘I am.’
    ‘Damn!’ The earl muttered something under his breath,then abruptly turned to his daughter. ‘I think under the circumstances it would be best if Sir Barrington and I were to continue this conversation in private, Anna. There’s nothing here you need to be involved with.’
    ‘But why not? I already know the worst,’ Anna said. ‘And I stand by my claim that Peregrine is innocent of the charge.’
    ‘Unfortunately, I have evidence to the contrary,’ Sir Barrington put in. ‘And I do not intend to reveal
that
in front of you, no matter what your father says.’
    ‘Of course not,’ Cambermere mumbled. ‘Not fit for a lady’s ears, I’m sure. But I will have the details of it before the lad comes home.’
    ‘But, Papa—’
    ‘No, my dear. Sir Barrington and I will discuss this alone,’ her father said firmly. ‘When Peregrine gets home, have Milford send him straight to my study. And you are
not
to speak with him beforehand.’
    Anna said nothing as the two men left the room because, in truth, she didn’t know what
to
say. Peregrine involved in a scandalous affair with a married marchioness? Impossible! Even if he were to lift his head out of his books long enough to look at a woman, it certainly wouldn’t be to one married to another man. He had a stronger moral code than that, of that she was sure.
    And yet Sir Barrington Parker claimed to have proof of the affair. What kind of proof could he have, and how had Peregrine come to be accused of this wretched undertaking in the first place? Had Lord Yew a grudge against him? Perhaps as the result of a card game or a wager? Had they had words over some political issue, or a difference of opinion over the current government’s handling of some matter of concern to both of them?
    There had to be
something.
Anna refused to believe thatPeregrine would ever stoop to something as shoddy as an affair. He might have been raised in the country, but everything about his behaviour thus far convinced her that 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 facethe 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