visit to the Baroness von Brohm, Anna realised that the entire affair had left a bad taste in her mouth. Not only were her feelings towards Peregrine affected by what she had learned, but her brief acquaintance with Sir Barrington Parker had been tainted by the events they had both unwittingly been drawn into. She had insinuated that he hadn’t known his business, accused him of misjudgement and gloated when she’d believed him wrong. She owed him an apology.
But was he the type of man to whom apologising was easy? She remembered the way he had teased her over her steadfast belief in Peregrine’s innocence, mocking her belief in the man’s inability to tell lies. Would he be condescending of her apology now? Had he been waiting for just such a moment to say, ‘I told you so’? Anna hated to think of him as being deliberately cruel, but, not knowing the nature of the man, she had little else to go on.
She was not at all surprised that thoughts of him occupied her fully during the carriage ride to Mayfair.
Julia von Brohm was not what Anna had been expecting. Thinking to see a pale, unhappy woman in her mid-forties wearing the unrelieved black of a widow still in mourning for her husband, Anna was surprised to be greeted by a slender and very attractive woman of no more than thirty, garbed in a stunning gown of rich burgundy satin. Her honey-brown hair was arranged in a simple but elegant chignon at the nape of her neck, and her eyes were a clear, bright blue that appeared even brighter against the translucent whiteness of her skin.
‘Lady Annabelle,’ the baroness said, extending both hands in greeting. ‘I cannot tell you how pleased I was to receive your note.’
‘And likewise, how pleased I was to receive your acceptance,’ Anna said. ‘I regret that my good friend, Lady Lydia Winston, was unable to come, but her mother was taken to bed with a terrible head pain and required her assistance.’
The baroness’s pretty face softened in sympathy. ‘Poor lady. Having had a mother-in-law who suffered with megrims, I know the role a daughter must play. But I am so pleased that you were brave enough to come on your own.’
Anna tilted her head to one side. ‘Brave?’
‘Come now, Lady Annabella. You must surely have heard the rumours—that I am a lonely widow who cannot stop crying for her late husband. That I am a beautiful woman whose company must be endured, but not enjoyed.’
The smile came easily to Anna’s lips. ‘I knew you were a widow, Baroness, and I assumed that you would be lonely. But I certainly did not hear that you were dismal company or someone to be avoided. And even if I had, I would have come anyway and drawn my own conclusions.’
‘I am very glad to hear it,’ the baroness said in her charmingly accented voice. ‘And I think that you and I are going to become good friends. Ah, Smith,’ she said to the young maid who appeared in the doorway. ‘We shall have tea and a plate of pastries. Cook would be most upset if we did not offer our guest a sampling of her wares.’
As the maid curtsied and withdrew, the baroness turned back to Anna. ‘I hired most of the staff upon my arrival, but dear Frau Hildenbaum has been with my family since I was a girl. She insisted on coming to London with me and when she heard I was having an English lady to tea, she set to work. She has been baking since early this morning.’
‘How delightful, for I confess to a definite weakness for pastries,’ Anna said as she sat down on a comfortable sofa across from the baroness. The room was quite beautiful, the walls papered in pale blue and gold silk, the shades of which were reflected in the carpet and furnishings. An exquisite medieval tapestry was suspended from a brass rod between the two long windows that gave view over the square below, and numerous other works of art adorned the walls. The baroness either had exceptional taste or the good fortune to have ancestors who did.
Even more stunning was her jewellery. Anna’s eyes were repeatedly drawn to the brooch pinned to the bodice of her gown. It was shaped like a flower, with a single piece of amber in the centre and with petals made up of diamonds and rubies.
‘You are admiring my brooch?’ the baroness asked during a lull in the conversation.
Anna looked up, embarrassed to have been caught staring. ‘Yes. Forgive me, but it is so beautiful.’
‘My late husband gave it to me for my twenty-first birthday.’ The baroness’s face glowed. ‘Ulrich spent a lot of time travelling and often came home with little trinkets like this. He had exceptional taste.’
‘Baroness—’
‘Please, won’t you call me Julia?’ she interrupted gently. ‘I have no wish to be so formal with you.’
‘Then you must call me Anna. And I was about to say that your husband must have loved you very much to have given you such an exquisite gift.’
As soon as the words left her lips, Anna regretted having uttered them. She had no wish to invoke unhappy memories for Julia and she feared that mentioning her late husband in such a way might be all that was required to bring them on. But apart from a delicate flush, Julia remained admirably in control of her emotions. ‘He did love me. Ours was a true love match. Not common in our world, I suppose, but I was more fortunate than most.’
‘So it wasn’t an arranged marriage.’
‘Oh, yes, but Ulrich and I fell in love shortly after we were introduced. That probably sounds ridiculous, but it is the truth.’
‘I think you were indeed incredibly fortunate,’ Anna said. ‘I know of so many marriages that are arranged for the benefit of the parties involved and end up being the most dismal of relationships. That is why I always prefer to see marriages based on love. Have you any children, Bar—Julia?’
Where the mention of her husband had not brought tears to her eyes, the mention of children did. ‘Sadly, no. Ulrich and I were not able to conceive a child together. Perhaps if we’d had more time—’
When Julia broke off, Anna leaned over to place her hand over the other woman’s. ‘I am so sorry for your loss, Julia,’ she said gently, ‘but you are young enough to marry again and to bear many healthy children.’
Julia nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. ‘I would like to think so, but if the difficulty in conceiving lies with me, it will not matter who I marry. I know that will serve as a deterrent to certain gentlemen.’
‘Only those looking to set up a nursery,’ Anna said, seeing no point in not stating the obvious. ‘If we are being practical, there are many older gentlemen who would be happy to offer you marriage without children being a condition.’
‘You are kind to say so, Anna, but, in truth, I do not long for a husband. The memory of Ulrich is enough.’
‘But memories won’t keep you warm at night and you are far too beautiful to spend the rest of your life alone,’ Anna pointed out. ‘You must get out in society and start mingling again.’
‘I would like that,’ Julia admitted, ‘but in the three weeks I’ve been here, I have not received a single invitation.’
‘Then we must start the ball rolling.’ Anna smiled, convinced more than ever that she had done the right thing in coming to visit the baroness. She pulled an invitation from her reticule and handed it to Julia. ‘This is from the Countess of Bessmel. It is an invitation to a soirée at her home the evening after next.’
‘An invitation!’ Barely managing to conceal her delight, Julia broke the seal and unfolded the invitation. ‘But we have never met.’
‘I know, but I chanced to be at a breakfast with the countess the other morning and told her I intended paying a call on you. She said she was planning to do the same, but that the pain in her legs was preventing her from getting around. That’s when she asked if I would be good enough to deliver the invitation to you and to say how much she hopes you will attend.’
Julia read the invitation again and her smile brightened immeasurably. ‘This is … so very good of you, Anna. And of Lady Bessmel, of course. I will write at once to accept.’