Eventually he took his mouth away and hushed her as she moaned in protest, telling her in a low murmur that they had company. Sleepy-eyed and bewildered, Annabelle peered out from the circle of his arms. They were confronted by a group of witnesses who could hardly avoid the sight of a couple embracing in the middle of the path by the drystone wall. Lillian…Daisy…their mother…Lady Olivia and her handsome American fiance, Mr. Shaw…and, finally, none other than Lord Westcliff. “Oh, God,” Annabelle said feelingly, and turned her face against Hunt’s shoulder, as if closing her eyes would make them all disappear.

Her ear tingled as Hunt bent to murmur to her, his voice threaded with amusement. “Checkmate.”

Lillian was the first to speak. “What in the world is going on, Annabelle?”

Cringing, Annabelle forced herself to meet her friend’s gaze. “I couldn’t go through with it,” she said sheepishly. “I’m so sorry—the plan was such a good one, and you did your part beautifully—”

“And it would have been a great success if you hadn’t been kissing the wrong man,” Lillian exclaimed. “What in God’s name happened? Why aren’t you in the pear orchard with Lord Kendall?”

It was hardly the sort of thing that one wanted to articulate in front of a crowd. Annabelle hesitated and looked up at Hunt, who was watching her with a mocking smile, seeming fascinated to hear what explanation she might offer.

In the lengthening silence, Lord Westcliff appeared to have put two and two together, and he looked from Annabelle to Lillian with obvious disgust. “So this is why you were so insistent upon a walk. You two made an arrangement to trap Kendall!”

“I was part of it, too,” Daisy asserted, determined to share in the blame.

Westcliff didn’t appear to hear the comment, his gaze locked on Lillian’s unrepentant face. “Good God—is there nothing you won’t stoop to?”

“If there is,” Lillian replied smartly, “I haven’t discovered it yet.”

Had her own circumstances not been quite so mortifying, Annabelle would have dissolved into laughter at the earl’s expression.

Frowning, Lillian returned her attention to Annabelle. “It may not be too late to salvage things,” she said. “We’ll make everyone here promise to hold their tongues about having seen you and Mr. Hunt together. Without any witnesses, it hasn’t happened.”

Lord Westcliff considered the words with a scowl. “Much as I despise the prospect of agreeing with Miss Bowman,” he said darkly, “I have to concur. The best thing for all concerned is for us to ignore this incident. Miss Peyton and Mr. Hunt have not been seen, and, therefore, no one has been compromised, which means that there will be no consequences to this unfortunate situation.”

“Oh, yes, she has been compromised,” Hunt said in sudden grim determination. “By me. And I don’t want to avoid the consequences, Westcliff. I—”

“Yes, you do,” the earl assured him authoritatively. “I’ll be damned if I’ll allow you to ruin your life over this creature, Hunt.”

“Ruin his life?” Lillian repeated indignantly. “Mr. Hunt couldn’t do better than to marry a girl like Annabelle! How dare you insinuate that she isn’t good enough for him, when obviously he’s the one who—”

“No,” Annabelle interrupted anxiously. “Please, Lillian—”

“Excuse us,” Mr. Shaw murmured with impeccable politeness, doing a poor job of concealing a grin. He pulled Lady Olivia’s hand through the crook of his arm and executed a graceful bow in no particular direction. “I believe that my fiancee and I will excuse ourselves from the proceedings, being somewhat de trop. I think I can safely speak for the both of us when I say that we intend to be as deaf, dumb, and blind as a trio of Hong Tze monkeys.” His blue eyes sparkled with good-natured humor. “We’ll leave the rest of you to decide just what has been seen and heard tonight…or not. Come, darling.” Drawing Lady Olivia away with him, he escorted her back toward the manor.

The earl turned to the Bowmans’ mother, a tall woman with a narrow, foxlike face. She had worked her expression into one of righteous indignation, but had held her tongue out of a desire not to miss anything. As Daisy later explained ruefully, Mrs. Bowman never had her conniptions in the middle of an act, preferring to save them for intermission.

“Mrs. Bowman,” Westcliff asked, “may I prevail on you to maintain your silence regarding this matter?”

Had the earl, or any other titled man within reach, asked the ambitious Mrs. Bowman to jump headfirst into the flower bed for his amusement, she would have done so with a perfect somersault. “Oh, of course, my lord—I would never spread such distasteful gossip. My daughters are such sheltered innocents—it grieves me to see what their association with this…this unscrupulous girl has brought them to. I’m certain that a gentleman of your discernment can see that my two angels are completely blameless in this situation, having been led astray by the scheming young woman they sought to befriend.”

Casting a skeptical glance at the two “angels,” Westcliff replied coldly. “Quite.”

Hunt, who had retained a possessive arm around Annabelle’s waist, surveyed the lot of them coolly. “Do as you please. Miss Peyton is going to be compromised tonight, one way or another.” He began to pull her along the path with him. “Come.”