Fortunately, Hayle didn’t appear to be in need of an answer. ‘How much do you think that sapphire necklace is worth?’ he asked instead.
Barrington’s shrug was carefully non-committal. ‘I’m no expert, but, given the size and quality of the stones, I should think it considerable.’
‘Enough to keep a man in brandy and cigars for the rest of his life, I’ll wager.’
‘Probably. How fortunate that you and I need not worry about such things.’
Hayle snorted. ‘Speak for yourself.’
Barrington’s gaze sharpened. ‘You are your father’s heir.’
‘Oh, yes. But as he’s still in his forties and hale and hearty, I’m not likely to inherit any time soon,’ Hayle said sourly. ‘So, what’s your connection with the baroness?’
‘We have no connection, per se,’ Barrington said, aware that the man changed subjects more often than a lady changed her mind. ‘We were introduced by your sister at Lady Bessmel’s reception and have seen each other at a few society gatherings since, but nothing beyond that.’ He gazed at the earl’s son through a fine wisp of smoke. ‘I understand it was your sister’s idea to launch the baroness into society.’
‘Of course it was. Anna loves to manage other people’s lives. Personally, I think her time would be better spent smoothing her way into some man’s bed,’ Hayle said in a disagreeable tone, adding when he saw Barrington’s stern look, ‘After she marries him, of course. Anna would never do anything as irresponsible as compromise herself. But it’s long past time she was wed. Father’s too soft. He won’t force her into an arranged marriage, even though he knows it would be best for all concerned.’
‘I’m sure your sister would have no problem finding a husband if that was something she truly wanted,’ Barrington said, careful to keep the annoyance from his voice. ‘She is an exceedingly beautiful woman.’
‘But meddlesome and outspoken,’ Hayle remarked. ‘Men don’t like that in a wife. They want quiet, biddable women who know their place. Anna is neither biddable nor accommodating, as I’m sure you know from the brief time you’ve spent with her. Mind, I’ve heard her mention your name more than once and that’s saying something. Better watch yourself, Parker, or she’ll have you in the parson’s mousetrap before you can turn around.’ He drained the contents of his glass, then signalled the waiter for a refill. ‘So, I hear you’re giving a fencing demonstration at Angelo’s this week.’
Barrington’s hand tightened on his glass. ‘No. I am giving Lord Yew’s son a lesson. In private.’
‘I heard you were going to fight.’
‘You heard wrong.’
‘But why wouldn’t you fight?’ Hayle asked. ‘You’re reputed to be the finest swordsman in London. Why not show everyone that you are?’
‘Because that’s not what I do.’
‘Then why are you giving Yew’s boy a lesson?’
‘I agreed to it as a favour to the marquess. I also happen to like Lord Gerald. He shows a great deal of promise with the foil and he is anxious to better himself.’
‘Maybe, but you’ll never make a fighter of him. He’s too soft,’ Hayle said. ‘He hasn’t the heart for it. You’d do far better sparring with me. At least I’d give you a run for your money. So what do you say? Are you up for it?’
Barrington’s expression was deceptively benign. He was used to cocky young men challenging him. At one time, he’d encouraged it, fond of pitting his skills against all comers. But that game had lost its appeal years ago.
He was about to say as much when the door to the dining room opened and one of the younger maids walked in. He hadn’t noticed her earlier in the evening, which meant she likely hadn’t been in the room. He would certainly have remembered her if she had. She was somewhere in her early twenties, with dark brown hair and rather startling green eyes—
Barrington stiffened. Green eyes and dark brown hair. Was it possible he’d found Colonel Tanner’s elusive Miss Paisley? If so, he wasn’t surprised that the Colonel had asked him to look for her. Though petite, she had a lush, curving figure that was nicely displayed in the black gown and white apron. Her face was heart shaped and delicate and she had a truly lovely smile. But equally aware of having drawn the attention of nearly every man in the room, her cheeks turned bright pink as she made her way towards the butler, who was standing in the corner overseeing the proceedings.
A whispered conversation followed, during which the butler’s heavy eyebrows drew together in annoyance. Then, with a flick of his hand, he dismissed her.
As she headed back in their direction, Barrington noticed Hayle doing a leisurely appraisal of her charms. Then, slowly raising his glass, he watched her over the rim and when she was no more than five feet away, coughed. Not discreetly, as a gentleman might, but in a manner that was guaranteed to draw attention.
The girl glanced in their direction—and her step faltered.
Barrington heard her breath catch and saw her eyes widen as they met those of the man sitting next to him. Beside him, Hayle just smiled. Coldly. Like a spider watching a fly, knowing it was doomed.
The butler, noticing her standing in the middle of the room, said sharply, ‘Be off with you, girl!’
She went, all but running to the door. Hayle turned away, seemingly uninterested. ‘Bloody endless evening,’ he muttered into his glass.
But the girl didn’t leave. Barrington saw her hesitate by the door, saw her turn around to take one last look at Hayle, and the expression in her eyes said it all.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Barrington remarked, drawing deeply on his cigar. ‘Seems to me it’s all in how you look at it.’
Anna was seated at the pianoforte playing an air by Bach when the drawing-room door opened and the gentlemen filed in. She knew the piece well enough not to be flustered by their arrival and kept on playing, watching with interest as they took their various seats and settled into conversation with the ladies. Her father stopped to chat with Lady Bessmel, but eventually ended up at Julia’s side. His face was flushed and he was smiling. No doubt the result of an extra glass of port after dinner.
Edward spoke briefly to Lady Lydia Winston, but, judging from the expression on her face, the conversation was not at all to her liking. She stiffly got up and walked away. Edward just laughed.
‘I was going to ask if I might turn the pages for you,’ Sir Barrington said, quietly appearing at her side. ‘But since it’s obvious you play from memory, I doubt you are in need of my help.’
The glow of his smile warmed her. ‘Nevertheless, it is kind of you to offer, Sir Barrington.’
‘Kindness had nothing to do with it. I was looking for an excuse to talk to you.’
Anna was tempted to ask why he felt the need of an excuse, but the teasing quip died on her lips when she saw the way he was looking down at her. ‘About something in particular?’
‘Of course.’ He stared a moment longer, before turning his attention back to the room.
Anna kept her eyes on the keyboard, waiting for her breathing to settle. Would it always be like this? Was she destined to feel this trembling excitement every time Barrington drew near? She certainly hoped not. It wouldn’t bode well for their friendship if she did.
She cast a sideways glance at him and knew he was taking it all in. Making mental lists about the people and situations that intrigued him. Watching. Always watching.
‘It must get tiresome,’ she said at length. ‘Always having to watch the behaviour of others.’