Secrets of a Summer Night (Wallflowers #1)(38)

“He won’t be a problem,” Annabelle said grimly. “As I promised earlier, I’ll talk to him.”

Lillian responded with a relieved grin. “You’re a peach, Annabelle.”

As they were seated at the supper table, Annabelle was disconcerted to discover that she had been located near Lord Kendall. On any other occasion, it would have been a gratifying boon, but on this particular evening, Annabelle wasn’t feeling her best. She was unequal to the task of making intelligent conversation while her ankle was throbbing and her head was aching. To add to her discomfort, Simon Hunt was seated almost directly opposite her, looking maddeningly self-possessed. And making matters even worse, a sense of queasiness kept her from doing justice to the magnificent repast. Bereft of her usual healthy appetite, she found herself picking listlessly at the contents of her plate. Every time she looked up, she found Hunt’s shrewd gaze on her and braced herself for some subtle taunt. Mercifully, however, the few remarks he made to her were bland and commonplace, and she was able to suffer through the meal without incident.

A tide of music began to surge from the ballroom as the supper concluded, and Annabelle was thankful that the ball would begin soon. For once she would be entirely happy to sit in the line of wallflowers and rest her feet while others danced. She supposed that she had taken too much sun earlier in the day, as she was feeling unpleasantly light-headed and sore. Lillian and Daisy, by contrast, looked as vibrant and healthy as ever. Unfortunately, poor Evie had gotten a scolding from her aunt that had left her sorely chastened. “The sun makes her freckle,” Daisy told Annabelle ruefully. “Aunt Florence told Evie that after our outing she’s become as spotty as a leopard, and she’s to have nothing more to do with us until her complexion returns to normal.”

Annabelle frowned, feeling a wave of sympathy for her friend. “Beastly Aunt Florence,” she muttered. “Obviously her sole purpose in life is to make Evie miserable.”

“And she’s brilliant at it,” Daisy agreed. Suddenly she saw something over Annabelle’s shoulder that made her eyes turn as round as saucers. “Zounds! Mr. Hunt is coming this way. I am perishing of thirst, so I’ll just visit the refreshment table, and leave the two of youto, er…”

“Lillian told you,” Annabelle said grimly.

“Yes, and she and Evie and I are ever so grateful for the sacrifice that you’re going to make on our behalf.”

“Sacrifice,” Annabelle repeated, not liking the sound of the word. “That’s putting it a bit strongly, isn’t it? As Lillian said, ‘one pair of lips is like any other.’ “

“That’s what she told you,” Daisy said impishly. “But she told me and Evie that she would die before she would ever consent to kiss a man like Mr. Hunt.”

“What—” Annabelle began, but Daisy had already scuttled away, chortling.

Beginning to feel like a sacrificial virgin being tossed into the inferno, Annabelle started as she heard Simon Hunt’s deep voice close to her ear. The quiet jeer of his baritone seemed to resonate all the way down her spine. “Good evening, Miss Peyton. I see you’re fully clothed…for a change.”

Gritting her teeth, Annabelle turned to face him. “I must confess, Mr. Hunt, I was amazed by your restraint during dinner. I had expected a rash of insulting comments from you, and yet you managed to behave like a gentleman for a full hour.”

“It was a strain,” he acknowledged gravely. “But I thought that I would leave the shocking behavior to you…” He paused delicately before adding, “…since you seem to be doing so well at it of late.”

“My friends and I did nothing wrong!”

“Did I say that I disapproved of your playing Rounders in the altogether?” he asked innocently. “On the contrary—I endorse it wholeheartedly. In fact, I think you should do it every day.”

“I wasn’t in the ‘altogether,’ ” Annabelle retorted in a sharp whisper. “I was wearing undergarments.”

“Is that what they were?” he asked lazily.

She flushed bright red, mortified that he had noticed how ragged her underclothes were. “Have you told anyone about seeing us in the meadow?” she asked tensely.

Obviously, that was the question that he had been waiting for. A slow smile curved his lips. “Not yet.”

“Are you planning to tell anyone?”

Hunt considered the question with a thoughtful expression that didn’t begin to conceal his enjoyment of the situation. “Not planning to, no…” He shrugged regretfully. “But you know how it is. Sometimes these things have a way of slipping out during a conversation…”

Annabelle narrowed her eyes. “What will it take to keep you quiet?”

Hunt pretended to be shocked by her bluntness. “Miss Peyton, you should learn to handle these matters with a bit more diplomacy, don’t you think? I would have assumed that a lady of your refinement would use some tact and delicacy—”

“I don’t have time for diplomacy,” she interrupted with a scowl. “And it’s obvious that you can’t be depended upon to keep silent unless you’re offered some kind of bribe.”

“The word ‘bribe’ has such negative connotations,” he mused. “I prefer to call it an inducement.”