Secrets of a Summer Night
Page 19
Evie shook her head. “No,” she admitted. “The question is, are we all s-so desperate to catch husbands that we’ll resort to any means, be they fair or foul?”
“I am,” Annabelle said without hesitation.
“So are we,” Daisy said cheerfully.
Evie regarded the three of them uncertainly. “I can’t toss aside all scruples. That is, I sh-shouldn’t care to deceive a man into doing something that he—”
“Evie,” Lillian interrupted impatiently, “men expect to be deceived in these matters. They’re happiest that way. If one were straightforward with them, the whole prospect of marriage would be too alarming, and none of them would ever do it.”
Annabelle regarded the American girl with mock alarm. “You’re ruthless,” she said.
Lillian smiled sweetly. “It’s my family heritage. Bowmans are ruthless by nature. We can even be fiendish if the occasion calls for it.”
Laughing, Annabelle returned her attention to Evie, who wore a nonplussed frown. “Evie,” she said gently, “until now, I’ve always tried to do things the right way. But it hasn’t gotten me very far—and at this point, I am willing to try something new…aren’t you?”
Still not seeming entirely convinced, Evie surrendered with a nod of resignation.
“That’s the spirit,” Annabelle said encouragingly.
As they conversed, there was a minor stir in the crowd as Lord Westcliff appeared. Seeming entirely comfortable in the position of managing things, he deftly paired gentlemen with ladies in preparation for the procession to the dining room. Although Westcliff was not the tallest man in the room, he had a magnetic presence that was impossible to ignore. Annabelle wondered why some people possessed such a quality—something unnameable that lent significance to every gesture they made and every word they spoke. Glancing at Lillian, she saw that the American girl had noticed it, too.
“There’s a man who thinks well of himself,” Lillian said dryly. “I wonder what—if anything—could ever set him back on his heels.”
“I can’t imagine,” Annabelle replied. “But I would like to be there if it happens.”
Evie drew closer and nudged her arm lightly. “There is Lord K-Kendall, in the corner.”
“How do you know that he is Kendall?”
“Because he is surrounded by a dozen unmarried women who are circling him like sh-sharks.”
“Good point,” Annabelle said, staring at the young man and his milling entourage. William, Lord Kendall, seemed befuddled by the inordinate amount of female attention he was receiving. He was a fair-haired, slightly built young man, his lean face adorned by a pair of perfectly polished spectacles. The reflection of the glass lenses flashed as his perplexed gaze moved from face to face. The passionate interest being shown to a man of Kendall’s timid demeanor proved that there was no aphrodisiac more effective than endof-season bachelorhood. Whereas Kendall had been supremely uninteresting to these same girls last January, by June he had acquired an irresistible allure.
“He looks like a nice man,” Annabelle said thoughtfully.
“He looks like he will spook easily,” Lillian commented. “If I were you, I’d try to appear as bashful and helpless as possible when you meet him.”
Annabelle gave her an ironic glance. ” ‘Helpless’ has never been my forte. I’ll try for bashful, but I can’t promise anything.”
“I don’t foresee that you’ll have any problem in diverting Kendall’s interest from those girls to you,” Lillian replied confidently. “After supper, when the ladies and gentlemen return here for tea and conversation, we’ll find some way to introduce you.”
“How should I…” Annabelle began, and paused as she felt a soft prickle along the nape of her neck, as if someone had drawn the fronds of a fern across her skin. Wondering what had caused it, she reached up to touch the back of her neck, and suddenly found her gaze caught by Simon Hunt’s.
Hunt was standing across the room, leaning one shoulder negligently against the side of a flat pilaster, while a group of three men around him were engaged in conversation. He looked deceptively relaxed, his gaze intent, like that of a cat considering whether or not to pounce. It was clear that he had noticed her interest in Kendall.
Hell’s bells, she thought in vexation, and deliberately turned her back to him. She wouldn’t put it past Hunt to cause trouble for her. “Have you noticed that Mr. Hunt is here?” Annabelle asked her friends in a low voice, and saw their eyes widen.
“Your Mr. Hunt?” Lillian sputtered, while Daisy whipped her head around to catch a glimpse of him.
“He’s not mine!” Annabelle protested, making a comical face. “But yes, he’s standing on the other side of the room. I saw him earlier today, actually. He claims to be a close friend of the earl’s.” She frowned and predicted darkly, “Mr. Hunt will do everything possible to wreck our plans.”
“Would he really be so s-selfish as to prevent you from marrying?” Evie asked in amazement. “With the intention of making you into his…his…”
“Kept woman,” Annabelle finished for her. “It’s hardly outside the realm of possibility. Mr. Hunt has a reputation for stopping at nothing to get what he wants.”
“That may be true,” Lillian commented, her mouth firming with determination. “But he’s not going to get you—I can promise you that.”
“I am,” Annabelle said without hesitation.
“So are we,” Daisy said cheerfully.
Evie regarded the three of them uncertainly. “I can’t toss aside all scruples. That is, I sh-shouldn’t care to deceive a man into doing something that he—”
“Evie,” Lillian interrupted impatiently, “men expect to be deceived in these matters. They’re happiest that way. If one were straightforward with them, the whole prospect of marriage would be too alarming, and none of them would ever do it.”
Annabelle regarded the American girl with mock alarm. “You’re ruthless,” she said.
Lillian smiled sweetly. “It’s my family heritage. Bowmans are ruthless by nature. We can even be fiendish if the occasion calls for it.”
Laughing, Annabelle returned her attention to Evie, who wore a nonplussed frown. “Evie,” she said gently, “until now, I’ve always tried to do things the right way. But it hasn’t gotten me very far—and at this point, I am willing to try something new…aren’t you?”
Still not seeming entirely convinced, Evie surrendered with a nod of resignation.
“That’s the spirit,” Annabelle said encouragingly.
As they conversed, there was a minor stir in the crowd as Lord Westcliff appeared. Seeming entirely comfortable in the position of managing things, he deftly paired gentlemen with ladies in preparation for the procession to the dining room. Although Westcliff was not the tallest man in the room, he had a magnetic presence that was impossible to ignore. Annabelle wondered why some people possessed such a quality—something unnameable that lent significance to every gesture they made and every word they spoke. Glancing at Lillian, she saw that the American girl had noticed it, too.
“There’s a man who thinks well of himself,” Lillian said dryly. “I wonder what—if anything—could ever set him back on his heels.”
“I can’t imagine,” Annabelle replied. “But I would like to be there if it happens.”
Evie drew closer and nudged her arm lightly. “There is Lord K-Kendall, in the corner.”
“How do you know that he is Kendall?”
“Because he is surrounded by a dozen unmarried women who are circling him like sh-sharks.”
“Good point,” Annabelle said, staring at the young man and his milling entourage. William, Lord Kendall, seemed befuddled by the inordinate amount of female attention he was receiving. He was a fair-haired, slightly built young man, his lean face adorned by a pair of perfectly polished spectacles. The reflection of the glass lenses flashed as his perplexed gaze moved from face to face. The passionate interest being shown to a man of Kendall’s timid demeanor proved that there was no aphrodisiac more effective than endof-season bachelorhood. Whereas Kendall had been supremely uninteresting to these same girls last January, by June he had acquired an irresistible allure.
“He looks like a nice man,” Annabelle said thoughtfully.
“He looks like he will spook easily,” Lillian commented. “If I were you, I’d try to appear as bashful and helpless as possible when you meet him.”
Annabelle gave her an ironic glance. ” ‘Helpless’ has never been my forte. I’ll try for bashful, but I can’t promise anything.”
“I don’t foresee that you’ll have any problem in diverting Kendall’s interest from those girls to you,” Lillian replied confidently. “After supper, when the ladies and gentlemen return here for tea and conversation, we’ll find some way to introduce you.”
“How should I…” Annabelle began, and paused as she felt a soft prickle along the nape of her neck, as if someone had drawn the fronds of a fern across her skin. Wondering what had caused it, she reached up to touch the back of her neck, and suddenly found her gaze caught by Simon Hunt’s.
Hunt was standing across the room, leaning one shoulder negligently against the side of a flat pilaster, while a group of three men around him were engaged in conversation. He looked deceptively relaxed, his gaze intent, like that of a cat considering whether or not to pounce. It was clear that he had noticed her interest in Kendall.
Hell’s bells, she thought in vexation, and deliberately turned her back to him. She wouldn’t put it past Hunt to cause trouble for her. “Have you noticed that Mr. Hunt is here?” Annabelle asked her friends in a low voice, and saw their eyes widen.
“Your Mr. Hunt?” Lillian sputtered, while Daisy whipped her head around to catch a glimpse of him.
“He’s not mine!” Annabelle protested, making a comical face. “But yes, he’s standing on the other side of the room. I saw him earlier today, actually. He claims to be a close friend of the earl’s.” She frowned and predicted darkly, “Mr. Hunt will do everything possible to wreck our plans.”
“Would he really be so s-selfish as to prevent you from marrying?” Evie asked in amazement. “With the intention of making you into his…his…”
“Kept woman,” Annabelle finished for her. “It’s hardly outside the realm of possibility. Mr. Hunt has a reputation for stopping at nothing to get what he wants.”
“That may be true,” Lillian commented, her mouth firming with determination. “But he’s not going to get you—I can promise you that.”
