Secrets of a Summer Night Read Free Page A

rushed through her, far too strong to manage, and she quivered helplessly in his hold. Compelled by instinct, she lifted blindly into the tenderly restless caress of his lips. The pressure of his lips increased as he demanded more, rewarding her helpless response with a voluptuous exploration that set her senses on fire.
    Just as she began to lose all sanity, his mouth released hers with startling suddenness, leaving her dazed. Keeping his supportive hand on the downy-soft nape of her neck, he bent his head until a rueful murmur tickled her ear. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.” His touch withdrew completely, and when red-filtered light finally invaded the theater, he was gone.
    “Will you look at that?” Jeremy enthused, pointing with glee at a simulated volcano in front of them, with brilliant molten rock appearing to course down its sides. “Incredible!” Noticing that Hunt was no longer there, he frowned quizzically. “Where did Mr. Hunt go? I suppose he must have seen his friends.” Shrugging, Jeremy returned to his excited observation of the volcanoes, lending his exclamations to those of the awestruck audience.
    Wide-eyed and completely bereft of speech, Annabelle wondered if what she thought had just happened had in fact really happened. Surely she had not been kissed in the middle of a theater by a stranger. And kissed in
that
way…
    Well, that was what came of allowing unknown gentlemen to pay for things — it gave them the license to take advantage of you. But as to her own behavior… Shamed and bewildered, Annabelle struggled to understand why she had allowed Mr. Hunt to kiss her. She should have protested and pushed him away. Instead, she had stood there in a mindless daze while he — oh, the thought made her cringe. It didn’t really matter how or why Simon Hunt had been able to shatter all her well-constructed defenses. The fact was, he had… and, therefore, he was a man to be avoided at all cost.
     
     
     

Chapter 1
     
London, 1843
The end of the season
     
     
    A marriage-minded girl could overcome practically any obstacle, except the lack of a dowry.
    Annabelle swung her foot impatiently beneath the frothy white mass of her skirts while she kept her expression composed. During her past three failed seasons, she had become accustomed to being a wallflower. Accustomed, but not resigned. More than once it had occurred to her that she deserved far better than to sit at the side of the room in a spindly chair. Hoping, hoping, hoping, for an invitation that would never come. And trying to pretend that she didn’t care — that she was perfectly happy to be watching others dancing and being courted.
    Letting out a long sigh, Annabelle fiddled with the tiny silver dance card that hung from a ribbon on her wrist. The cover slid open to reveal a book of near-translucent ivory leaves that spread out in a fan. A girl was supposed to pencil the names of her dance partners on those delicate slips of ivory. To Annabelle, the fan of empty cards seemed to resemble a row of teeth, grinning at her mockingly. Snapping the silver case shut, she glanced at the three girls who sat next to her, all endeavoring to look similarly unconcerned with their fates.
    She knew exactly why they were there. Miss Evangeline Jenner’s considerable family fortune had been made from gambling, and her origins were common. Moreover, Miss Jenner was painfully shy and possessed a stutter, which made the prospect of conversation a session of torture for both participants.
    The other two girls, Miss Lillian Bowman, and her younger sister Daisy, had not yet become acclimated to England — and from the looks of things, it would take them a long time. It was said that the Bowmans’ mother had brought the girls from New York because they hadn’t been able to get any suitable offers there. The soap bubble heiresses, they were mockingly referred to, or occasionally, the dollar princesses. Despite their elegantly angled cheekbones and