Revenge In Regency Society: Brushed by Scandal / Courting Miss Vallois. Gail Whitiker

the lady does not mind, why should you? You don’t look your age, and she is past thirty, Papa. Old enough to make her own decisions.’

      Her father glanced down at the floor. ‘Your brother is not pleased by the association.’

      Anna sighed. ‘My brother is not pleased with anything at the moment so I shouldn’t worry about it. Do what I do. Ignore him.’

      ‘Can you not try to get along, Anna? He is your brother, after all.’

      ‘Yes, he is, but I cannot bring myself to like the way he treats people; his attitude towards Peregrine is abysmal. He demonstrates a resentment that is neither warranted nor deserved. I’ve tried to tell him as much, but he refuses to listen.’

      Her father looked as though he wanted to say something, but then he sighed, and shook his head. ‘I blame myself for the distance between the two of you. Perhaps had I paid more attention to Edward when he was younger—’

      ‘The fault is not yours, Papa,’ Anna interrupted firmly. ‘Edward has been given every opportunity to show himself the better man. He has wealth and position—there is absolutely no reason for him to be so harsh and judgemental towards others.’

      ‘Perhaps he will change when he meets the right woman. It is my sincere wish that you both find suitable marriage partners and leave this house to start your own lives.’ Her father regarded her hopefully. ‘Is there no one for whom you feel even the slightest affection, my dear?’

      Sadly, there was. But while Anna would have liked to give her father the reassurance he so desperately craved, there was no point in raising his hopes. Or hers. ‘I fear not. But am I such a trouble to you that you would try to make me leave?’

      ‘Far from it. You’re a good girl, Anna. And though I don’t say it often, I am very proud of you. A week doesn’t go by that some grateful mother doesn’t tell me how helpful you’ve been in smoothing the troubled waters between her and her daughter. Most of them credit you with having saved their sanity!’

      Surprised by the admission, Anna said, ‘I can assure you they were exaggerating. None of the situations was that dire. It is simply easier for a stranger to see what needs to be done than someone who is intimately involved.’

      ‘Nevertheless, they all told me how helpful you were and that I should be very proud to have such an admirable young woman for a daughter. And I told them all they were right.’

      Her father was not normally an affectionate man, so when he suddenly bent down and pressed his lips to her forehead, Anna was deeply moved. ‘Oh, Papa.’ She got up and hugged him, aware that it had been a long time since she’d done so. If this was Julia’s doing, she could only hope that the romance continued.

      ‘Yes, well, I’d best be off,’ the earl said gruffly. He stepped back and smoothed his jacket. ‘Jul—that is, the baroness and I are having dinner together and then going on to the theatre.’

      ‘Sounds lovely. Have a good time.’

      ‘Yes, I expect we will.’

      Anna smiled as she watched him go. It was strange to suddenly find herself in the role of the parent. She was well aware that she was the one who should have been going out for the evening and her father the one wishing her well. But there was only one man with whom Anna wished to spend time and the chances of that happening were getting slimmer all the time.

      Troubled as he was by his feelings for Anna, Barrington knew he couldn’t afford to ignore his other commissions. In particular, the locating of Miss Elizabeth Paisley. His belief that he’d found her at Baroness von Brohm’s house had turned out to be false. He had gone back a few days later to question her, but the moment she’d walked into the drawing room, he’d known he was mistaken. The maid’s name was Justine Smith, and though she was the right age, the right height, and had the right colour hair, her eyes were all wrong. Hers had actually been a pale misty blue where the Colonel had specifically told him that Elizabeth Paisley’s were a deep, clear green. Barrington thought that in the candlelit room the night of the baroness’s dinner party, he must have been mistaken when he’d thought the maid’s eyes were green.

      And so, at eleven o’clock that morning, Barrington resumed his investigation by visiting the premises of one Madame Delors, fashionable modiste. Dressmakers were privy to a great deal of gossip about wives and mistresses, and if someone had taken over the protection of Miss Elizabeth Paisley, there was a good chance Madame Delors would know about it.

      Barrington stopped inside the door and glanced around the compact little shop. It was years since he’d had reason to frequent such an establishment, but it was evident they hadn’t changed. Bolts of richly coloured fabric of every type and shade filled the shelves; dress patterns were tacked to the walls; and in the centre of the room stood a raised podium surrounded on three sides by mirrors.

       ‘Bonjour, monsieur,’ called a charmingly accented French voice. ‘Puis-je vous aidez?’

      The owner of the establishment was small and compact, with dark inquisitive eyes and a head of flaming red hair that surely owed more to artifice than it did to nature. Still, it suited her well and Barrington doffed his hat. ‘Bonjour, madame. My name is Sir Barrington Parker. I would like to ask you a few questions, if you have a moment to spare.’

      The woman’s eyes narrowed, his comment obviously having put her on guard. ‘What kind of questions, monsieur?’

      ‘About a woman.’ He purposely didn’t use the term lady. ‘One I believe you dressed in the not-too-distant past.’

      ‘I dress many women, monsieur. You will ‘ave to give me ‘er name.’

      ‘Miss Elizabeth Paisley. Petite, lovely, with dark brown hair and uncommonly pretty green eyes.’

      The modiste evidenced neither surprise nor recognition. ‘I do not think I know the lady.’

      ‘Really? I was told you’d made clothes for her. Perhaps you dealt with the gentleman who bought them. A Colonel Tanner?’

      Madame Delors obviously knew a thing or two about what one did and didn’t say to gentlemen asking questions about other gentlemen’s ladies. ‘I ‘ave many gentlemen coming to buy clothes for their ladies, monsieur. But they do not always give me the names of the ladies they are buying for.’