And on that evening when Anthony, having drunk too much brandy and feeling far too sure of himself, had caught Anna alone in the gazebo by the lake and torn her gown in a boorish attempt at seduction, Mrs Fielding had appeared and promptly sent him packing. She had stayed with Anna until the worst of her grief had passed, and then, after drying Anna’s tears, she had lent her a shawl to cover the tear and had sent her regrets back to their hostess, explaining that Lady Annabelle was unwell and that she was seeing her home in her own carriage.
It had been a painful lesson, but one Anna had learned well. She had gone home that evening and made no mention of the event to anyone. She regretted having told her parents and her brother of her affection for Anthony, but after that night she never mentioned his name again. Nor, thankfully, did she see him. Mrs Fielding informed her not long after that he had left the country.
Anna had never been so glad to see the back of anyone in her life. And though she thought it was impossible for her to blush any deeper, she was wrong. Even after all this time, her face burned at the memory of her stupid, stupid mistake.
‘Tell me what happened, Lady Annabelle,’ Barrington said in a low voice. ‘Your secrets are safe with me. I know, better than most, the value of discretion.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you do,’ Anna said quietly. ‘But the only way to completely ensure one’s secrets is by keeping them entirely to oneself.’
‘I’m sorry you cannot bring yourself to trust me.’
She looked up at him, surprised that he would mention trust in such a situation. ‘I do not know you, Sir Barrington.
And the trust of which you speak is generally reserved for relationships between husbands and wives.’
‘I’ve always thought that bonds of trust can exist between friends as well as lovers.’
‘Perhaps, but it takes time to establish that kind of bond,’ she said, sounding flustered even to her own ears. ‘You are a single gentleman and I a single lady. It isn’t the thing for us to … share secrets of an intimate nature. But if you were looking for a wife, you would do well to consider Miss Erickson. Apart from her many other attributes, she is a genuinely nice young woman.’
‘What makes you think I’m looking for a wife?’ he asked.
‘Why would you not be? You just told me that we must abide by society’s rules, and society dictates that men and women should marry. Is that not the purpose of these gatherings? To place one in the path of the other?’
‘I suppose it is.’ He hesitated a moment before adding, ‘But I think it only right to tell you that Miss Erickson would not be of interest to me, even if I were of a mind to marry.’
If he were of a mind to marry? ‘Are you telling me you intend to remain single?’ Anna asked, eyebrows lifting in shock.
‘That was my plan, yes.’
‘But what of your obligation to your family?’
‘I fear the task of continuing the Parker name will fall to a distant cousin with whom I am not acquainted,’ Barrington said blandly. ‘As to the obligation owed, I am more concerned with the welfare of the lady with whom I might wish to spend my life than I am to the furthering of my ancestral line.’
‘Then I would have to say you are unique in your thinking,’ Anna said. ‘Most society gentlemen are concerned with their family name and marry to beget an heir.’
‘Yes, but you should know by now that my life is not that of a typical society gentleman. My reputation is such that people come to me when they wish to learn things about others. And because I ask questions people have no wish to be asked, I continuously put myself at risk.’
‘Surely you exaggerate the danger.’
‘I do not.’ His smile held secrets she could not begin to imagine. ‘The people I usually investigate are not the honourable men you meet in society, Lady Annabelle. They are scoundrels and blackmailers, men who operate beyond the boundaries of the law and who are completely without conscience. When I get too close, they get nervous. And when I convict them, they look for retribution.’
‘But surely not of a life-threatening kind!’
He shrugged, as though trying to make light of it. ‘There have been attempts on my life in the past and I have no reason to believe there will not be attempts in the future. The easiest way to ensure my silence is to eliminate the possibility of my saying anything at all. That said, I will not knowingly put anyone else in danger.’
‘But if these men have issues with you, why should you fear for the safety of those close to you?’
‘Because there is no better way to strike back at me than to hurt someone I care about.’ They had walked, by tacit agreement, onto the balcony. Barrington rested his arms against the stone balustrade and stared down into the garden. ‘And who could be dearer to me than the woman to whom I would give my name … and my heart.’
Anna felt her mouth go dry. Strange that the breeze should suddenly feel so cool. Was her body overly warm? They were standing quite close; close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. ‘So you would choose to live … without a woman to share your life,’ she whispered, ‘rather than expose your wife to possible harm?’
‘In a heartbeat.’ He turned his head so that his eyes bored into hers. ‘How could I say I loved someone if I didn’t care about their safety? If the thought of something happening to them didn’t tear me apart?’
Anna shivered. ‘You could give up what you’re doing. You are a gentleman. You have no need to work.’
‘And what would I do with myself then?’ He reached out and took her hand in his. ‘I have servants to run my estate and stewards and secretaries to see to my affairs. But a man must have something of his own or what reason has he for getting up each day?’
As he spoke, his fingers caressed the palm of her hand, smoothing the tender skin at the base of her wrist. His touch was light, non-threatening—and it turned Anna’s world upside down.
She closed her eyes, the sounds of the room beyond fading into the distance. She knew she should pull her hand free, but she was neither willing nor anxious to do so. His thumb was painting circles on her skin, lulling her with a touch.
‘We get up because … that is what the world expects of us,’ she said huskily. Dear Lord, what was he doing? Not content with massaging her palm and wrist, his thumb was continuing its treacherous voyage along the inside of her arm, causing disturbing quakes in her sanity. ‘Surely there is … a kind of security, perhaps even of comfort, in the carrying out of our daily task?’
‘Ah, but there are far sweeter pleasures to be enjoyed than that, my lady,’ Barrington murmured as he brushed the back of his free hand against her cheek. ‘The smoothness of a woman’s skin, the softness of her hair.’ He gently twined a lock around his finger and held it to his face, inhaling the delicate fragrance. ‘Finer than silk and more precious than gold.’ Then, releasing it, he gently grasped her chin between thumb and forefinger and tilted her face up. ‘Last but not least, the sweetness of her lips …’
Anna had been kissed before … but never like this. Never by a man whose touch was enough to make her long to release her tenuous hold on respectability. His mouth moved over hers slowly, thoughtfully, shattering her resolve and filling her with a desperate need to be loved. Surely she deserved this. Surely, after everything she’d been through, she was entitled to some small measure of love and affection for herself?
As he deepened the kiss, Anna raised her arms, twining them around his neck, wanting to be close and then closer still. His tongue teased her lips apart and heat poured through her body, flowing like molten fire through her veins. She moaned, feeling desire rise and want settle low in her belly. Ah, the sweet, sweet pleasure …
But the pleasure was bittersweet. Even as his arms tightened around her, Anna knew it could come to nothing. Barrington