Moving among them curiously, Annabelle turned in slow circles to view their gleaming sculpted faces. Wishing for someone to talk to, some warm human hand to cling to, she walked across the giant chessboard, searching blindly through the crowd of immobile figures…until she saw a dark form leaning indolently against a white marble column. Her heart began to hammer, and her steps slowed as she was filled with a rush of excitement that heated her skin and made her pulse beat in urgent rhythm.

It was Simon Hunt, walking toward her with a slight smile on his face. He caught her before she could retreat, and bent to whisper in her ear.

“Will you dance with me now?”

“I can’t,” she said breathlessly, struggling in his tightening embrace.

“Yes, you can,” he urged gently, his mouth hot and tender as it moved across her face. “Put your arms around me…”

As she writhed in his embrace, he laughed softly and kissed her until she was limp and helpless against him. “Queen is now subject to capture,” he murmured, drawing back to stare at her with deviltry in his eyes. “You’re in danger, Annabelle…”

She was suddenly released, and she turned to flee from him, stumbling against the statues in her haste. He followed in slow pursuit, his low laugh echoing in her ears. He stayed close behind her, deliberately prolonging the chase, until she was hot and exhausted and robbed of breath. Capturing her at last, he drew her back against him, and pulled her down to the floor. His dark head blotted out the sky as he covered her with his body, and the music was drowned out by the thunder of her own heartbeat. “Annabelle,” he whispered, “Annabelle…”

She awakened, her eyes widening in her sleep-flushed face as she sensed that someone was with her.

“Annabelle,” she heard again…but it was not the husky, caressing baritone of her dream.

CHAPTER 15

As Annabelle looked up, she saw Lord Hodgeham standing over her. She struggled to a sitting position and inched backward, comprehending that this was not an imaginary figure, but an all-too-real one. Rendered speechless with surprise, she shrank from him as he reached out with a heavy hand and flicked the lace trim at the front of her day gown.

“I heard about your illness,” Hodgeham said, his gaze heavy-lidded as he glanced over her half-reclining form. “How sorry I was to learn that you had suffered such an affliction. But it appears there was no permanent harm done. You seem…” He paused and moistened his plump lips, “…as exquisite as ever…though perhaps a bit pale.”

“How…how did you find me here?” Annabelle asked. “This is the Marsdens’ private parlor. Surely no one gave you leave—”

“I made a servant tell me,” came Hodgeham’s smug reply.

“Get out,” Annabelle snapped. “Or I’ll scream that you’re assaulting me.”

Hodgeham chortled richly. “You can’t afford a scandal, my dear. Your interest in Lord Kendall is obvious to everyone. And we both know that one hint of disgrace attached to your name would completely ruin your chances with him.” He grinned at her silence, revealing a mouthful of crooked yellow teeth. “That’s better. My poor, pretty Annabelle…I know what will restore a blush to those pale cheeks.” Reaching into his coat pocket, he extracted a large gold coin and waved it in front of her tantalizingly. “A token to express my sympathy for your ordeal.”

Annabelle’s breath came in an outraged hiss as Hodgeham leaned very close, the coin clutched between his fat fingers as he attempted to tuck it into the bodice of her dress. She knocked his hand away with a stiff, jerking movement. Although she was still feeble, the gesture was enough to send the coin flying from his hand. It fell to the carpeted floor with a solid thud.

“Leave me alone,” she said fiercely.

“Haughty bitch. You needn’t try to pretend that you’re any better than your mother.”

“You swine—” Cursing her own lack of strength, Annabelle struck out at him feebly as he bent over her, her body racked with chills of horror. “No,” she said through gritted teeth, covering her face with her arms. She resisted fiercely as he grasped her wrists. “No—”

A clatter from the doorway caused Hodgeham to straighten in surprise. Shaking from head to toe, Annabelle looked in the direction of the noise and saw her mother standing there with a lunch tray. Silverware had tumbled from the edge of the tray as Philippa realized what was happening.

Philippa shook her head as if finding it impossible to believe that Hodgeham was there. “You dare to approach my daughter…” she began in a thick voice. Scarlet with rage, she went to settle the tray on a nearby table, then spoke to Hodgeham with quiet wrath. “My daughter is ill, my lord. I will not allow her health to be compromised—you will come with me now, and we will discuss this in some other place.”

“Discussion isn’t what I want,” Hodgeham said.

Annabelle saw a quick succession of emotions cross her mother’s face: disgust, resentment, hatred, fear. And finally…resignation. “Come away from my daughter, then,” she said coldly.

“No,” Annabelle croaked in protest, realizing that Philippa intended to go somewhere alone with him. “Mama, stay with me.”

“Everything will be fine.” Philippa didn’t look at her, but kept her emotionless gaze on Hodgeham’s ruddy countenance. “I’ve brought you a lunch tray, dearest. Try to eat something—”