Secrets of a Summer Night (Wallflowers #1)(86)

“Oh, blast,” came Jeremy’s exclamation. “The puppy’s made a puddle on the hearth.”

“Someone please find the maid and tell her,” Sally said, while the children laughed uproariously at the ill-mannered puppy.

Since Annabelle was sitting closest to the door, she jumped up at once. Entering the next room, Annabelle discovered the cook-maid still clearing away the remnants of dinner. After Annabelle informed her of the small mishap, the girl swiftly went to the parlor with a handful of rags. Annabelle would have followed her, but she heard the sounds of conversation coming from the nearby kitchen, and she paused as she heard Bertha’s low, disapproving voice.

“…and does she love you, Simon?”

Annabelle froze where she stood, listening intently to Simon’s reply. “People marry for many reasons other than that.”

“She doesn’t, then,” came Bertha’s flat statement. “I can’t say as I’m surprised. Women like that never—”

“Have a care,” Simon murmured. “You’re speaking of my wife.”

“She makes a pretty ornament for your arm,” Bertha persisted, “when you go among higher-ups. But would she have married you without your money? Would she stay by you in times of trouble or want? If only you had given a second glance to one of the girls I tried to match you with. That Molly Havelock, or Peg Larcher…good, sturdy girls who would be true helpmates…”

Annabelle could bear to hear no more. Controlling her expression, she slipped back into the noise and light of the parlor. Well, that’s what comes of eavesdropping, she told herself ruefully, wondering if Bertha’s opinion of her could sink much lower. The criticism hurt…but Annabelle had to acknowledge that there was no overwhelming reason for Simon’s family, or his mother, to like her. In fact, Annabelle realized that in all her pondering over the benefits of marrying Simon, it had never occurred to her to question what she could give him in return.

Troubled, she wondered if she should say anything to Simon about what she had overheard and immediately decided against it. Broaching the subject would only force him to offer reassurance, or perhaps apologize for his mother, neither of which was necessary. She knew that it would take time for her to prove her worth to Simon, and his family…and perhaps even to herself.

Much later in the evening, when Annabelle and Simon had returned to the Rutledge, Simon took her shoulders in his hands and regarded her with a slight smile. “Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“For being so agreeable to my family.” Pulling her forward, he pressed his mouth to the top of her head. “And for choosing to overlook the fact that they’re so different from you.”

Annabelle flushed with pleasure at his praise, suddenly feeling much better. “I enjoyed the evening,” she lied, and Simon grinned.

“You don’t have to go that far.”

“Oh, perhaps there was a moment or two, when your father was discussing animal entrails…or when your sister talked about what the baby did in his bath-water…but on the whole, they were very, very…”

“Noisy?” Simon suggested, his eyes glinting with sudden laughter.

“I was going to say ‘nice.’ “

Simon slid his hands over her back, massaging the tense places beneath her shoulder blades. “You’re taking to this wife-of-a-commoner business fairly well, all things considered.”

“It’s not so bad, really,” Annabelle mused. She ran a light, flirtatious hand along the front of his body, and gave him a teasing glance. “I can overlook quite a lot, in return for this…impressive…well-endowed…”

“Bank account?”

Annabelle smiled and slipped her fingers into the waist of his trousers. “Not the bank account,” she whispered, just before his mouth closed over hers.

The following day, Annabelle was thrilled to be reunited with Lillian and Daisy, whose suite was in the same wing of the Rutledge as her own. Squealing and laughing as they embraced, the three of them made far too much noise, until Mrs. Bowman sent a maid to tell them to be quiet.

“I want to see Evie,” Annabelle complained, locking arms with Daisy as they went to the suite’s receiving room. “How is she faring?”

“She got into dreadful trouble a fortnight ago for trying to see her father,” Daisy replied with a sigh. “His condition has worsened, and he’s bedridden now. But Evie was caught sneaking out of the house, and now she’s being kept in seclusion by Aunt Florence and the rest of the family.”

“For how long?”

“Indefinitely,” came the discouraging reply.

“Oh, those odious people,” Annabelle muttered. “I wish we could go and rescue Evie.”

“Wouldn’t that be fun?” Daisy mused, instantly taken with the idea. “We should kidnap her. We’ll bring a ladder and set it beneath her window, and—”

“Aunt Florence would set the dogs on us,” Lillian said darkly. “They have two huge mastiffs that wander the grounds at night.”

“We’ll toss them some drugged meat,” Daisy countered. “And then while they’re sleeping—”

“Oh, plague take your harebrained plans,” Lillian exclaimed. “I want to hear about Annabelle’s honeymoon.”