Secrets of a Summer Night (Wallflowers #1)(24)

Heavy footsteps approached as someone descended the staircase. Standing at the banister, Annabelle glanced upward with a slight smile, and suddenly she froze. Incredibly, she found herself being confronted by a fleshy face surmounted by a dangling crest of iron gray hair. Hodgeham? But it couldn’t be!

He reached the nadir of the stairs and stood before her with a nominal bow, looking unbearably smug. As Annabelle stared into Hodgeham’s cold blue eyes, the food she had eaten earlier seemed to gather into a spiky ball that rolled around her stomach.

How could he be there? Why had she not seen him earlier in the day? As she thought of her mother, who was soon to meet her at this very spot, fury boiled swiftly. This grossly insolent man, who styled himself their benefactor and subjected her mother to his disgusting attentions in return for his stingy handfuls of coins, had now come to persecute them at the worst possible time. There was no firmer guarantee of torment for Philippa at this party than Hodgeham’s presence. At any moment he might betray his relationship with her—he could ruin them so easily, and they had no means of keeping him silent.

“Why, Miss Peyton,” Hodgeham murmured, his chubby face turning pink with malevolent pleasure. “What a pleasant coincidence that you should be the first guest I encounter at Stony Cross Park.”

Queasy chills coursed over Annabelle as she forced herself to hold his gaze. She tried to banish all emotion from her expression, but Hodgeham smiled nastily, seeming aware of the hostile fear that engulfed her. “After the rigors of the journey from London,” he continued, “I elected to have supper in my room. So sorry to have missed you earlier. However, there will be many opportunities for us to visit in the coming weeks. Your charming mother is here with you, I presume?”

Annabelle would have given anything to be able to answer “no.” Her heart was beating so hard that it seemed to drive the breath from her lungs…she fought to think and speak above the insistent hammering. “Don’t go near her,” she said, amazed that her voice was steady. “Don’t speak to her.”

“Ah, Miss Peyton, you wound me…I, who have been your family’s only friend in those difficult times when others have deserted you.”

She stared at him without blinking, without moving, as if she was face-to-face with a venomous snake that was poised to strike.

“A happy coincidence, is it not, that we find ourselves attending the same party?” Hodgeham asked. He laughed quietly, the movement causing his combed-over hair to slip in an oily banner across his low forehead. He smoothed it back with his plump palm. “Fortune has indeed smiled on me, to provide for such proximity between myself and a woman whom I esteem so highly.”

“There will be no proximity between you and my mother,” Annabelle said, clenching her fist hard to keep from driving it into his gloating face. “I warn you, my lord, if you bother her in any way—”

“Dear girl, did you think that I was referring to Philippa? You are too modest. I meant you, Annabelle. I have long admired you. Yearned, in fact, to demonstrate the nature of my feelings for you. Now it seems that fate has presented us with the perfect opportunity to become more familiar with each other.”

“I would rather sleep in a pit of snakes,” Annabelle replied coldly, but there was a catch in her voice, and he smiled at the sound.

“At first you will protest, of course. Girls of your sort always do. But then you’ll do the sensible thing…the wise thing…and you’ll see the advantages of becoming my friend. I can be a valuable friend, my dear. And if you please me, I will reward you handsomely.”

Annabelle tried desperately to think of a way to destroy any hope he might have of making her his mistress. The fear that he might trespass on another man’s province was likely the only thing that would keep Hodgeham away from her. Annabelle forced her lips into a scornful smile. “Does it appear that I am in need of your so-called friendship?” she asked, fingering the folds of her fine new gown. “You’re mistaken. I already have a protector—a far more generous one than you. So you had better leave me—and my mother— completely alone. Or you will answer to him.”

She saw the progression of emotions across Hodgeham’s face, initial disbelief followed by anger, and then suspicion. “Who is he?”

“Why should I tell you?” Annabelle asked with a cool smile. “I would much rather let you wonder.”

“You’re lying, you devious bitch!”

“Believe what you like,” she murmured.

Hodgeham’s meaty hands half curled as if he was longing to seize her and shake a confession from her. Instead, he regarded her with a fury-mottled complexion. “I’m not done with you yet,” he muttered, spittle flecking his fleshy lips. “Not by half.” He left her with crude abruptness, too incensed to bother with a show of courtesy.

Annabelle stood without moving. Her fury faded, leaving behind a stinging anxiety that settled in her bones. Had what she told Hodgeham been enough to keep him at bay? No—it was merely a temporary solution. In the coming days he would be watching her closely, scrutinizing every word and action to ascertain whether or not she had been lying about having a protector. And there would be threats, and barbs, designed to shred her nerves. But no matter what, she could not allow him to reveal the arrangement that he had shared with her mother. It would kill Philippa, and certainly it would ruin Annabelle’s chances of marriage.