Secrets of a Summer Night (Wallflowers #1)(53)

CHAPTER 15

As Annabelle looked up, she saw Lord Hodgeham standing over her. She struggled to a sitting position and inched backward, comprehending that this was not an imaginary figure, but an all-too-real one. Rendered speechless with surprise, she shrank from him as he reached out with a heavy hand and flicked the lace trim at the front of her day gown.

“I heard about your illness,” Hodgeham said, his gaze heavy-lidded as he glanced over her half-reclining form. “How sorry I was to learn that you had suffered such an affliction. But it appears there was no permanent harm done. You seem…” He paused and moistened his plump lips, “…as exquisite as ever…though perhaps a bit pale.”

“How…how did you find me here?” Annabelle asked. “This is the Marsdens’ private parlor. Surely no one gave you leave—”

“I made a servant tell me,” came Hodgeham’s smug reply.

“Get out,” Annabelle snapped. “Or I’ll scream that you’re assaulting me.”

Hodgeham chortled richly. “You can’t afford a scandal, my dear. Your interest in Lord Kendall is obvious to everyone. And we both know that one hint of disgrace attached to your name would completely ruin your chances with him.” He grinned at her silence, revealing a mouthful of crooked yellow teeth. “That’s better. My poor, pretty Annabelle…I know what will restore a blush to those pale cheeks.” Reaching into his coat pocket, he extracted a large gold coin and waved it in front of her tantalizingly. “A token to express my sympathy for your ordeal.”

Annabelle’s breath came in an outraged hiss as Hodgeham leaned very close, the coin clutched between his fat fingers as he attempted to tuck it into the bodice of her dress. She knocked his hand away with a stiff, jerking movement. Although she was still feeble, the gesture was enough to send the coin flying from his hand. It fell to the carpeted floor with a solid thud.

“Leave me alone,” she said fiercely.

“Haughty bitch. You needn’t try to pretend that you’re any better than your mother.”

“You swine—” Cursing her own lack of strength, Annabelle struck out at him feebly as he bent over her, her body racked with chills of horror. “No,” she said through gritted teeth, covering her face with her arms. She resisted fiercely as he grasped her wrists. “No—”

A clatter from the doorway caused Hodgeham to straighten in surprise. Shaking from head to toe, Annabelle looked in the direction of the noise and saw her mother standing there with a lunch tray. Silverware had tumbled from the edge of the tray as Philippa realized what was happening.

Philippa shook her head as if finding it impossible to believe that Hodgeham was there. “You dare to approach my daughter…” she began in a thick voice. Scarlet with rage, she went to settle the tray on a nearby table, then spoke to Hodgeham with quiet wrath. “My daughter is ill, my lord. I will not allow her health to be compromised—you will come with me now, and we will discuss this in some other place.”

“Discussion isn’t what I want,” Hodgeham said.

Annabelle saw a quick succession of emotions cross her mother’s face: disgust, resentment, hatred, fear. And finally…resignation. “Come away from my daughter, then,” she said coldly.

“No,” Annabelle croaked in protest, realizing that Philippa intended to go somewhere alone with him. “Mama, stay with me.”

“Everything will be fine.” Philippa didn’t look at her, but kept her emotionless gaze on Hodgeham’s ruddy countenance. “I’ve brought you a lunch tray, dearest. Try to eat something—”

“No.” Disbelieving, despairing, Annabelle watched her mother calmly precede Hodgeham from the room. “Mama, don’t go with him!” But Philippa left as if she had not heard.

Annabelle was not aware of how many minutes passed as she stared blankly at the empty doorway. There was no thought in her mind of touching the lunch tray. The tang of vegetable broth that flavored the air made her feel nauseous. Bleakly, Annabelle wondered how this hellish affair had ever started, if Hodgeham had forced himself on her mother, or if it had initially been a matter of mutual consent. No matter how it had begun, it had now turned into a travesty. Hodgeham was a monster, and Philippa was trying to pacify him to keep him from ruining them.

Weary and miserable, trying not to think of what might be occurring between her mother and Hodgeham at that very moment, Annabelle levered herself off the settee. She winced at the protesting ache of her muscles. Her head hurt, and she was dizzy, and she wanted to go to her room. Walking like an old woman, she made her way to the bellpull and tugged. After what seemed an interminable length of time, there was still no response. With the guests gone, most the staff had been allowed their day off, and maids were in short supply.

Scrubbing her fingers distractedly through the limp locks of her hair, Annabelle assessed the situation. Although her legs were weak, they felt serviceable. That morning her mother had helped her to walk the length of two hallways from their room to the Marsdens’ upstairs parlor. Now, however, she was fairly certain that she could manage the short journey on her own.

Ignoring the brilliant sparks that danced across her vision like fireflies, Annabelle left the room with short, careful steps. She stayed close to the wall in case she needed to avail herself of its support. How odd it was, she thought grimly, that even this minor exertion should cause her to pant as if she had just run for miles. Infuriated with her own weakness, she wondered ruefully if she shouldn’t have drunk that last cup of clivers after all. Concentrating on setting one foot in front of the other, she made slow progress along the first hallway, until she was nearly at the corner that led to the east wing of the estate, where her room was located. She stopped as she heard quiet voices coming from another direction.