Secrets of a Summer Night (Wallflowers #1)(31)

“I’m hungry,” Annabelle said wistfully, peering inside the basket, which was filled with fruit, cheese, pate, thick cuts of bread, and several varieties of salad.

“You’re always hungry,” Daisy observed with a laugh. “For such a small person, you have a remarkable appetite.”

“I, small?” Annabelle countered. “If you are one fraction of an inch above five feet tall, I’ll eat that picnic basket.”

“You’d better start chewing, then,” Daisy said. “I’m five feet and one inch, thank you.”

“Annabelle, I wouldn’t gnaw on that wicker handle quite yet, if I were you,” Lillian interceded with a slow smile. “Daisy stands on her toes whenever she’s measured. The poor dressmaker has had to recut the hems of nearly a dozen dresses, thanks to my sister’s unreasonable denial of the fact that she is short.”

“I’m not short,” Daisy muttered. “Short women are never mysterious, or elegant, or pursued by handsome men. And they’re always treated like children. I refuse to be short.”

“You’re not mysterious or elegant,” Evie conceded. “But you’re very pr-pretty.”

“And you’re a dear,” Daisy replied, levering upward to reach into the picnic basket. “Come, let’s feed poor Annabelle—I can hear her stomach growling.”

They delved into the repast enthusiastically. Afterward, they reclined lazily on the blanket and cloud-watched, and talked about everything and nothing. When their chatter died to a contented lull, a small red squirrel ventured out of the oak grove and turned to the side, watching them with one bright black eye.

“An intruder,” Annabelle observed, with a delicate yawn.

Evie rolled to her stomach and tossed a bread crust in the squirrel’s direction. He froze and stared at the tantalizing offering, but was too timid to advance. Evie tilted her head, her hair glittering in the sun as if it had been overlaid with a net of rubies. “Poor little thing,” she said softly, casting another crust at the timid squirrel. This one landed a few inches closer, and his tail twitched eagerly. “Be brave,” Evie coaxed. “Go on and take it.” Smiling tolerantly, she tossed another crust, which landed a scant few inches from him. “Oh, Mr. Squirrel,” Evie reproved. “You’re a dreadful coward. Can’t you see that no one’s going to harm you?”

In a sudden burst of initiative, the squirrel seized the tidbit and scampered off with his tail quivering. Looking up with a triumphant smile, Evie saw the other wallflowers staring at her in drop-jawed silence. “Wh-what is it?” she asked, puzzled.

Annabelle was the first to speak. “Just now, when you were talking to that squirrel, you didn’t stammer.”

“Oh.” Suddenly abashed, Evie lowered her gaze and grimaced. “I never stammer when I’m talking to children or animals. I don’t know why.”

They pondered the puzzling information for a moment. “I’ve noticed that you never seem to stammer quite as much when you’re talking to me,” Daisy observed.

Lillian could not seem to resist the comment. “Which category do you fall into, dear? Children, or animals?”

Daisy responded with a hand gesture that was completely unfamiliar to Annabelle.

Annabelle was about to ask Evie if she had ever consulted a doctor about her stammering, but the redhaired girl abruptly changed the subject. “Where is the R-rounders ball, Daisy? If we don’t play soon, I’ll fall asleep.”

Realizing that Evie didn’t want to discuss her stammering any longer, Annabelle seconded the request. “I suppose if we’re really going to do it, now is as good a time as any.”

While Daisy dug in the basket for the ball, Lillian unearthed an item from her own basket. “Look what I’ve brought,” she said smugly.

Daisy looked up with a delighted laugh. “A real bat!” she exclaimed, regarding the flat-sided object admiringly. “And I thought we’d have to use a plain old stick. Where did you get it, Lillian?”

“I borrowed it from one of the stableboys. It seems they sneak away for Rounders whenever possible— they’re quite passionate about the game.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Daisy asked rhetorically, beginning on the buttons of her bodice. “Gracious, the day is warm—it will be lovely to shed all these layers.”

As the Bowman sisters unfastened their gowns with the casual manner of girls not unaccustomed to disrobing out in the open, Annabelle and Evie regarded each other in a moment of uncertainty.

“I dare you,” Evie murmured.

“Oh, God,” Annabelle said in an aggrieved tone, and began to unbutton her own dress. She had discovered an unexpected streak of modesty that brought a rush of color to her face. However, she was not going to turn coward when even timid Evie Jenner was willing to join in the rebellion against propriety. Pulling her arms from the sleeves of her dress, she stood and let the heavy overlay fall in a crumpled mound at her feet. Left in her chemise, drawers, and corset, her feet covered only by stockings and thin slippers, she felt a breeze waft over the perspiration-dampened places beneath her arms, and she shivered pleasantly.

The other girls stood and shed their own gowns, which lay heaped on the ground like gigantic exotic flowers.

“Catch!” Daisy said, and tossed the ball to Annabelle, who caught it reflexively. They all walked to the center of the meadow, pitching the ball back and forth. Evie was the worst at throwing and catching, though it was clear that her ineptitude was caused by inexperience rather than clumsiness. Annabelle, on the other hand, had a younger brother who had frequently turned to her as a playmate, and so the mechanics of lobbing a ball were familiar to her.