Secrets of a Summer Night (Wallflowers #1)(48)

Picking up a stray hairpin, Annabelle toyed with the crimped wire and frowned. Kendall’s bouquet had been one of many, actually. The news of her illness had prompted a great deal of friendly sympathy from the guests at Stony Cross Manor. Even Lord Westcliff had sent up an arrangement of hothouse roses on behalf of himself and the Marsdens. The proliferation of flowers in vases had given the room a funereal appearance. Oddly, there had been nothing from Simon Hunt…not a single note or flower stem. After his solicitous behavior two nights ago, she would have expected something. Some small indication of concern…but the thought occurred to her that perhaps Hunt had decided that she was an absurd and troublesome creature, no longer worthy of his attention. If so, she should be grateful that she would never again be plagued by him.

Instead, Annabelle felt a stinging pressure behind her nose and the threat of unwanted tears in her eyes. She didn’t understand herself. She could not identify the emotion that moved beneath the mass of hopelessness. But she seemed to be filled with a craving for an indescribable something…if only she knew what it was. If only—”

“Well, this is odd.” Philippa sounded thoroughly perplexed as she reentered the room. “I found these just inside the door. Someone has set them there without a note, and no word to anyone. And they’re completely new, by the looks of them. Do you think that they are from one of your friends? It must be. Such an eccentric gift could only have come from the American girls.”

Raising herself up on a pillow, Annabelle found a pair of objects deposited in her lap, and she regarded the offering with blank surprise. It was a pair of ankle boots, tied together with a dapper red bow. The leather was buttery-soft, dyed a fashionable bronze, and polished until it shone like glass. With low stacked-leather heels and tightly stitched soles, the ankle boots were sensible but stylish. They were ornamented with a delicate embroidered design of leaves that extended across the toes. Staring at the boots, Annabelle felt a sudden laugh rise in her throat.

“They must be from the Bowmans,” she said…but she knew better.

The boots were a gift from Simon Hunt, who was fully aware that a gentleman should never give an article of clothing to a lady. She should return them at once, she thought, even as she found herself clutching the boots tightly. Only Simon Hunt could manage to give her something so pragmatic and yet so inappropriately personal.

Smiling, she untied the red bow and held one of the boots up. It was surprisingly light, and she knew at a glance that it would fit her perfectly. But how had Hunt known what size to request, and where had he gotten the boots? Slowly she traced a finger across the tiny, exquisite stitches that joined the sole to the gleaming bronze upper.

“How attractive they are,” Philippa remarked. “Almost too nice for walking through the muddy countryside.”

Annabelle lifted the boot to her nose, inhaling the clean, earthy scent of polished leather. She ran a fingertip around the softly buffed edge of the upper, then held it back to examine it as if it were a priceless sculpture. “I’ve had quite enough of walking through the countryside,” she said with a smile. “These boots will stay on nicely graveled garden paths.”

Regarding her fondly, Philippa reached down to smooth Annabelle’s hair. “I wouldn’t have thought that a new pair of shoes would animate your spirits like this—but I’m awfully glad of it. Shall I send for a tray of soup and toast, dear? You must try to eat something before your next dose of clivers.”

Annabelle made a face. “Yes, I’ll have soup.”

Nodding in satisfaction, Philippa reached for the ankle boots. “I’ll just remove these from your lap and set them in the armoire—”

“Not yet,” Annabelle murmured, clasping one of the boots possessively.

Philippa smiled as she went to ring the servants’ bell.

As Annabelle leaned back and ran her fingertips over the silky leather, she felt a weight from her chest seem to ease. No doubt it was a sign that the venom’s effects were fading…but that didn’t explain why she suddenly felt so relieved and peaceful.

She would have to thank Simon Hunt, of course, and tell him that his gift was unseemly. And if he acknowledged that he had indeed been the one who had bestowed the boots, then Annabelle would have to return them. Something like a book of verse, or a tin of toffee, or a bouquet of flowers would have been far more appropriate. But no gift had ever touched her as this one had.

Annabelle kept the ankle boots with her all evening, despite her mother’s warning that it was bad luck to set footwear on the bed. As she eventually dropped off to sleep, with the orchestra music still washing lightly through the window, she consented to set the boots on the bedside table. When she awoke in the morning, the sight of them made her smile.

CHAPTER 14

On the third morning after the adder bite, Annabelle finally felt well enough to get out of bed. To her relief, the majority of the guests had gone to a party that was being held at a neighboring estate, which left Stony Cross Manor quiet and largely empty. After consulting with the housekeeper, Philippa settled Annabelle in a private upstairs parlor that overlooked the garden. It was a lovely room, with walls that had been covered with flowered blue paper and hung with cheerful portraits of children and animals. According to the housekeeper, the parlor was usually reserved only for the Marsdens’ use, but Lord Westcliff himself had offered the room for Annabelle’s comfort.