Annabelle responded with a halfhearted laugh, wishing that she could feel even a modicum of the Bowmans’ enjoyment of the situation. A fortnight ago, she would have been beside herself with glee. But somehow it felt all wrong. There was no pleasurable anticipation in the prospect of finally prying a proposal out of a peer. No sense of excitement or relief, or anything remotely positive. It felt like an unpleasant duty that had to be done. She concealed her apprehensiveness while the Bowman sisters plotted and calculated with the expertise of seasoned conspirators.

However, it seemed that Evie, who was more observant than the rest of them put together, perceived the true emotions behind Annabelle’s facade. “Is this what you w-want, Annabelle?” she asked softly, her blue eyes filled with concern. “You don’t have to do this, you know. We’ll find another suitor for you, if you don’t want Kendall.”

“There’s no time to find another one,” Annabelle whispered back. “No…it must be Kendall, and it has to be tonight, before…”

“Before?” Evie repeated, tilting her head as she regarded Annabelle with soft perplexity. The sun illuminated her scattered freckles, making them glint like gold dust on her velvety skin. “Before what?”

As Annabelle kept silent, Evie lowered her head and drew a fingertip along the edge of her glass, collecting fragments of sweetened pulp that had clung to the rim. The Bowman sisters were talking animatedly, debating the question of whether or not the pear orchard was the best place to waylay Kendall. Just as Annabelle thought that Evie would abandon the side conversation, the girl murmured softly, “Have you heard, Annabelle, that Mr. Hunt returned to Stony Cross late last night?”

“How do you know that?”

“Someone told my aunt.”

Meeting Evie’s perceptive gaze, Annabelle couldn’t help thinking that woe befall anyone who ever made the mistake of underestimating Evangeline Jenner. “No, I hadn’t heard,” she murmured.

Tilting the glass of lemonade slightly, Evie stared into the depths of sugar-clouded liquid. “I wonder that he never took you up on your offer of a kiss,” she said slowly. “After all the interest that he’s sh-shown to you in the past…”

Their gazes met, and Annabelle felt her face redden. Her eyes implored Evie to say no more, and she shook her head quickly.

Understanding passed like a shadow over Evie’s face. “Annabelle,” she said slowly, “would you mind awfully if I didn’t come along with the others to catch you with Lord Kendall tonight? There will be m-more than enough people to witness it. No doubt Lillian will bring an entire crowd of unsuspecting witnesses. I would be s-superfluous.”

“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.