“All that, and teeth, too,” Lillian exclaimed.

“You were right about him being spooked easily,” Annabelle said. “I am certain that Kendall would not be attracted to a strong-willed woman. He’s cautious and soft-spoken. I’m trying to be demure—although I should probably feel guilty for the deception.”

“All women do that during courtship—and men, too, for that matter,” Lillian said prosaically. “We try to conceal our defects and say the things we think the other one wants to hear. We pretend that we’re always lovely and sweet-tempered and that we don’t mind the other’s nasty little habits. And then after the wedding, we lower the boom.”

“I don’t think that men have to pretend quite as much as women do, however,” Annabelle replied. “If a man is portly, or has brown teeth, or is somewhat dull-witted, he’s still a catch as long as he is a gentleman and has some money. But women are held to far more exacting standards.”

“Which is why we’re all w-wallflowers,” Evie said.

“We won’t be for long,” Annabelle promised with a smile.

Evie’s aunt Florence came from the ballroom, looking witchlike in a black dress that did not flatter her sallow complexion. There was little family resemblance between Evie, with her round face and red hair and freckled complexion, and her ill-tempered aunt, who was a dry little wisp of a woman. “Evangeline,” she said sharply, throwing the group a disapproving glance as she gestured to the girl. “I’ve warned you not to disappear like that—I have searched everywhere for you, for at least ten minutes, and I do not recall that you asked for permission to meet with your friends. And of all the girls for you to associate with…” Chattering angrily, Aunt Florence stalked toward the grand staircase, while Evie sighed and fell into step behind her. As they watched, Evie stuck her hand behind her back and waggled her fingers to wave good-bye.

“Evie says her family is very wealthy,” Daisy remarked. “But she says that they’re all unhappy, every last one of them. I wonder why?”

“Old money,” Lillian said. “Father says there is nothing like a lifetime of affluence to make one aware of what one hasn’t got.” She tucked her arm into Daisy’s. “Come, dear, before Mother realizes that we’ve disappeared.” She glanced at Annabelle with an inquiring smile. “Will you come walk with us, Annabelle?”

“No, thank you. My mother will meet me at the foot of the stairs in just a moment.”

“Good night, then.” Lillian’s dark eyes glowed as she added, “By the time we awaken tomorrow, you’ll have already gone on your walk with Kendall. I’ll expect a full report at breakfast.”

Annabelle saluted her playfully and watched the two of them depart. She meandered slowly to the grand staircase and paused in the shadow at the base of the curving structure. It seemed that Philippa, as usual, was taking an interminable length of time to finish a conversation back in the drawing room. Annabelle didn’t mind waiting, however. Her head was filled with thoughts, including conversational gambits that might amuse Kendall during their walk tomorrow and ideas of how to secure his attention to herself, in spite of the many other girls who would be pursuing him during the next few weeks.

If she was clever enough to make Lord Kendall like her, and if the wallflowers succeeded in their plan of entrapment, what would it be like to be the wife of such a man? She was instinctively certain that she could never fall in love with someone like Kendall— but she vowed that she would do everything possible to be a good wife to him. And surely in time she could come to care for him. Marriage to Kendall could be very pleasant. Life would be comfortable and secure, and she would never again have to worry about whether or not there was enough food for the table. And most importantly, Jeremy’s future would be assured, and her mother would never again have to endure the foul attentions of Lord Hodgeham.

Heavy footsteps approached as someone descended the staircase. Standing at the banister, Annabelle glanced upward with a slight smile, and suddenly she froze. Incredibly, she found herself being confronted by a fleshy face surmounted by a dangling crest of iron gray hair. Hodgeham? But it couldn’t be!

He reached the nadir of the stairs and stood before her with a nominal bow, looking unbearably smug. As Annabelle stared into Hodgeham’s cold blue eyes, the food she had eaten earlier seemed to gather into a spiky ball that rolled around her stomach.

How could he be there? Why had she not seen him earlier in the day? As she thought of her mother, who was soon to meet her at this very spot, fury boiled swiftly. This grossly insolent man, who styled himself their benefactor and subjected her mother to his disgusting attentions in return for his stingy handfuls of coins, had now come to persecute them at the worst possible time. There was no firmer guarantee of torment for Philippa at this party than Hodgeham’s presence. At any moment he might betray his relationship with her—he could ruin them so easily, and they had no means of keeping him silent.

“Why, Miss Peyton,” Hodgeham murmured, his chubby face turning pink with malevolent pleasure. “What a pleasant coincidence that you should be the first guest I encounter at Stony Cross Park.”

Queasy chills coursed over Annabelle as she forced herself to hold his gaze. She tried to banish all emotion from her expression, but Hodgeham smiled nastily, seeming aware of the hostile fear that engulfed her. “After the rigors of the journey from London,” he continued, “I elected to have supper in my room. So sorry to have missed you earlier. However, there will be many opportunities for us to visit in the coming weeks. Your charming mother is here with you, I presume?”