Secrets of a Summer Night (Wallflowers #1)(67)

“Of course I wouldn’t mind,” Annabelle said, and asked with a sheepish smile, “Ethical reservations, Evie?”

“Oh, no, I’m not being hypocritical. I’m quite ready to admit guilt by association…and wh-whether or not I come to the garden tonight, I’m part of the group. It’s just that…” She paused and continued quite softly. “I don’t th-think you want Lord Kendall. Not as a man—not for what he truly is. And now after having come to know you a little better, I…I don’t believe that marriage to him will make you happy.”

“But it will,” Annabelle argued, her tone sharpening until it had caught the Bowmans’ attention. They stopped chattering and stared at her curiously. “No one could possibly come closer to my ideal than Lord Kendall.”

“He’s perfect for you,” Lillian agreed firmly. “I hope you’re not trying to sow seeds of doubt, Evie— it’s far too late for that. We’re hardly going to jettison a perfectly good plan now, when we’ve almost achieved victory.”

Evie shook her head instantly, seeming to shrink in her chair. “No, no…I wasn’t tr-trying to…” Her voice faded to a mumble, and she threw Annabelle an apologetic glance.

“Of course she wasn’t,” Annabelle said in Evie’s defense, summoning a reckless smile. “Let’s go over the plan once more, Lillian.”

Lord Kendall reacted with amused complacency when Annabelle Peyton urged him to slip away with her for an early-evening walk through the garden. The air was soft with twilight, settling damply over the estate with no breeze to stir the thick atmosphere. With most of the guests dressing for dinner, or idling and fanning themselves in the card room and parlor, the outside grounds were mostly unoccupied. No man could be unaware of what a girl wanted when she suggested an unchaperoned walk in such circumstances. Apparently not adverse to the prospect of a stolen kiss or two, Kendall allowed Annabelle to coax him along the side of the terraced gardens and behind the drystone wall covered with climbing roses.

“I rather think we should have enlisted a chaperone,” he said with a slight smile. “This is decidedly improper, Miss Peyton.”

Annabelle flashed him a smile. “Steal away with me just for a moment,” she urged. “No one will notice.”

As he went with her willingly, Annabelle became aware of the growing weight of guilt that seemed to press on her from all sides. She felt as if she was leading a lamb to the slaughter. Kendall was a nice man—he didn’t deserve to be tricked into a forced marriage. If only she had more time, she might have been able to let things progress naturally and pry a genuine proposal out of him. But this was the last weekend of the party, and it was imperative that she bring him up to scratch now. If she could just get this part of her plan over with, things would be so much easier from then on. Annabelle, Lady Kendall she reminded herself grimly. Annabelle, Lady Kendall…she could see herself as a respectable young matron who lived in the peaceful world of Hampshire society, taking occasional trips to London, welcoming her brother home from school on the holidays. Annabelle, Lady Kendall would have a half dozen fair-haired children, some of them endearingly fitted with spectacles like their father. And Annabelle, Lady Kendall would be a devoted wife who would spend the rest of her days trying to atone for the way she had deceived her husband into marrying her.

They reached the clearing beyond the pear orchard, where a stone table had been set in a graveled circle. Coming to a stop, Kendal looked down at Annabelle, who had leaned back against the edge of the stone table in a studied pose. He dared to touch a stray curl that had fallen to her shoulder, admiring the glints of gold in the pale brown strands. “Miss Peyton,” he murmured, “by now it must be evident to you that I’ve developed a decided preference for your company.”

Annabelle’s heart had begun to hammer high in her throat, until she thought she might choke on it. “I…I have found great pleasure in our conversations and walks together,” she managed to say.

“How lovely you are,” Kendall whispered, drawing closer to her. “I’ve never seen eyes so blue.”

A month ago, Annabelle would have been overjoyed for this to happen. Kendall was a nice man, not to mention attractive, young, and wealthy, and titled…oh, what the devil was wrong with her? Her entire being was suffused with reluctance as he bent over her flushing, tightening face. Agitated, bewildered, she tried to hold still for him. Before their lips could meet, however, she wrenched away with a muffled gasp and turned away from him.

Silence descended in the clearing.

“Have I frightened you?” came Kendall’s inquiry. His manner was gentle and quiet…so different from Simon Hunt’s arrogance.

“No…it’s not that. It’s just…I can’t do this.” Annabelle rubbed her suddenly aching forehead, her shoulders stiff amid the florid puffs of her peach silk gown. When she spoke again, her voice was heavy with defeat and self-disgust. “Forgive me, my lord. You are one of the nicest gentlemen I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing. Which is exactly why I must leave you now. It’s not right for me to encourage your interest when nothing could come of it.”

“Why do you think that?” he asked, openly confused.

“You don’t really know me,” Annabelle said with a bitter smile. “Take my word for it, we’re an ill-matched pair. No matter how I tried, I wouldn’t be able to keep from trampling you eventually—and you would be too much of a gentleman to object, and we would both be miserable.”