Secrets of a Summer Night (Wallflowers #1)(60)

Applying herself to sipping daintily from her teacup, Annabelle shot an assessing glance over the rim. She read Kendall’s emotions easily: He did not want to believe that Lady Constance could have been caught in an indiscretion. The thought of it was enough to appall him. However, being a true gentleman, Kendall would be loath to investigate the situation. He would never dare to ask Lady Constance if she had indeed been compromised by Muxlow. Instead, he would remain silent on the matter, and try to ignore his own suspicions…and the unanswered questions would fester.

“Annabelle, you sh-shouldn’t have,” Evie murmured later that afternoon when Annabelle confessed what she had done. The four friends sat in Evie’s bedroom, where the girl sat with her face covered in a thick application of white cream that was supposed to get rid of freckles. Staring at Annabelle from beneath the heavy layer of bleaching unguent, Evie tried to continue, but it was clear that her powers of speech— which were not all that extensive to begin with—had been obliterated by disapproval.

“It was a brilliant strategy,” Lillian declared, picking up a nail file from the vanity where she sat. Whether she actually approved of Annabelle’s actions was not clear, but it was obvious that she would remain loyal to the end. “Annabelle didn’t actually lie, you see. She merely repeated a rumor that had been told to her, and she made it clear that it was just that—a rumor. What Kendall chooses to make of it is up to him.”

“But Annabelle didn’t tell him that she knows for a fact that the rumor is unf-founded,” Evie argued.

Lillian concentrated on filing her nail to a perfect oval. “Still, she didn’t lie.”

Feeling defensive and guilty, Annabelle looked at Daisy. “Well, what do you think?”

The younger Bowman sister, who had been repeatedly tossing the Rounders ball from one hand to the other, gave Annabelle an astute look as she replied. “I think that sometimes not giving someone all the information is nearly the same as a lie. You’ve started on a slippery path, dear. Beware your next step.”

Lillian scowled in annoyance. “Oh, do stop talking like a sideshow fortune-teller, Daisy. Once Annabelle gets what she wants, it won’t matter how she accomplished it. Results are everything. And Evie—no ethical hairsplitting. You agreed to help us manipulate Lord Kendall into a compromising situation—how is that any worse than Annabelle repeating an unfounded rumor?”

“We all promised not to hurt anyone,” Evie said with great dignity, taking a small towel and wiping thick streaks of cream from her face.

“Lady Constance hasn’t been hurt,” Lillian insisted. “She’s not in love with him. It is quite obvious that she wants Kendall only because he’s an end-of the-season bachelor, and she’s unmarried. Heavens, Evie, you’ve got to harden yourself. Is Lady Constance any worse off than we are? Look at us—four wallflowers who’ve got nothing to show for their efforts so far, except freckles, an adder bite, and the humiliation of having exposed our knickers to Lord Westcliff.”

Annabelle, who had been sitting on the edge of the mattress, let herself fall back to the center of the four-poster bed. She stared at the striped canopy overhead, feeling guilty. Oh, how she wished that she could be more like Lillian, who believed that the end justified the means! She promised herself that she would be strictly honorable in the future.

But…as Lillian had pointed out, Lord Kendall could either believe or disregard the rumor at will. He was a grown man who could make decisions for himself. All Annabelle had done was to sow the seeds—it was Kendall’s choice either to nurture them, or let them lie fallow.

In the evening, Annabelle dressed in an ice pink gown made of countless floating layers of transparent silk gauze. The waist was tightly cinched with a reinforced silk belt adorned with a huge white rose. Her skirts made a soft swishing sound as she walked, and she fluffed out the top layers, feeling like a princess. Too impatient to wait for Philippa, who was taking forever to dress, Annabelle left the room early, in the hopes of seeing her friends. With any luck, she might even encounter Lord Kendall and find some excuse to slip away with him for a few moments.

Favoring her ankle slightly, Annabelle walked along the hallway that led to the grand staircase. On impulse, she stopped at the Marsden private parlor, the door of which had been left ajar, and she entered it cautiously. The parlor was unlit, but surplus light from the hallway was sufficient to illuminate the shadowy outlines of the chess table in the corner. Drawn to the board, she saw with a flicker of pleasure that her game with Simon Hunt had been restored. Why had he taken the time to arrange the pieces as if they were still in play? Did he expect her to make another move?

Don’t touch anything, she told herself…but the temptation was too great to resist. She squinted in concentration, assessing the situation with a fresh eye. Hunt’s knight was in the perfect position to capture her queen, which meant that she would either have to move the piece or defend it. Suddenly she saw best how to protect her threatened queen—she slid a nearby rook forward to capture Hunt’s knight, thereby eliminating it from the board altogether. Smiling in satisfaction, she set the captured piece to the side and left the room.

Descending the grand staircase, she crossed through the entrance hall and walked along another hallway toward a circuit of public rooms. The carpet beneath her feet muffled all sound…but suddenly she sensed that someone was behind her. She felt a frisson of warning across her exposed upper back. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Lord Hodgeham was following her, moving with surprising swiftness for such a stocky man. His heavy fingers hooked into the back of her silk belt, forcing her to stop or risk the possibility of having the fragile band snap in two.