Page 12 of A Raven Reformed

“Are you alright?” Ash asked.

Slowly, Michael nodded. He wouldn’t pretend to not understand the question. “I don’t have any alcohol in my townhouse, so I won’t show up for work drunk if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, actually. We’re your friends, Michael. We haven’t forgotten how hard you worked to give it up.”

Of course they hadn’t. They’d supported him through all of it, the good days and the bad.

Patrick placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’re here for you if you need anything. I hope you know that.”

He didn’t like being coddled for being a failure. “Can we please just talk about business?”

Ash merely raised a brow. “On to business then.”

* * *

For the tenth night in a row, Belle sat at the foot of the long, empty table, picking at her food. The butler and a footman both stood off to the side, as they always did, just in case she might require something. How was this happening? Once again, her husband had abandoned her in a house full of servants, only this time, it was her own fault.

Apparently, he’d gone to London. Whatever that meant. No one seemed to really know, and they certainly couldn’t tell her when or if he’d be coming back. She should be relieved to have him gone, so why wasn’t she?

She should be enjoying her freedom in his absence. There was an entire estate for her to explore, but for some reason, her spirit for adventure seemed to have left her, as well. The only thing her mind was curious about anymore was her husband. It was preposterous. He was nothing but a bully and brute. But was he really?

With a sigh, she set her napkin on the table. The footman was at her chair in a trice, pulling it out as she stood.

“Do you require anything else, my lady?”

“No, thank you.” He bowed and the butler held the door open for her as she left the room. How was it possible to feel so lonely in a house filled with so many people? It shouldn’t feel that much different from how she’d spent her whole life, but it did. She hadn’t been Lady Dalinridge there, she was just Belle.

On her way past, she tried the door to her husband’s study. It was locked, of course. There had to be some kind of useful information in there though. As she stared at the door, her sense of adventure began to stir, just a bit. She was going to get into that room and find some answers.

That night, a while after Lizzie had tucked her into bed, she crept out of her room and tiptoed down to his study. Her nerves hummed with excitement as she pulled out the hairpin and set to work. Isaac had taught her how to pick locks, and although he would have teased her for how long it took her to beat this one, she was ultimately successful. She did a happy little dance as the door opened just a crack.

She would need more light to see whatever she could find in there, so for tonight, she quietly pulled the door closed and went back to bed.

The following morning, it took every ounce of discipline she possessed to not allow her excitement to show on her face. When she finally finished with breakfast, she walked as nonchalantly as she could manage to her husband’s study. After checking to make sure no one was around, she slipped inside and closed the door softly behind her. The racing of her heart was exhilarating.

The room was much larger than she had imagined it to be. A huge wooden desk sat before her, and across the room was a sofa and a handful of chairs and tables. Shelves filled with books lined an entire wall.

As she sat in the chair behind his desk, she was dwarfed by the furniture, a reminder of just how large he was. Her heart fluttered nervously.

What would he do if he found her in his study? She swallowed, remembering the spanking he’d given her. Would he give her another one? Her breathing quickened. When she thought about that, she could still feel the warmth of his palm as it gently rubbed her bottom.

She shook away the thoughts and forced herself to focus on the task at hand. Surprisingly, none of the drawers in the desk were locked. Not that it would have stopped her. She spent the next hour poring over paperwork and documents, trying to piece together as much as possible.

Apparently, he really did own a club of some kind called The Raven’s Den. There was another address that must be for wherever he stayed while he was down there. She jotted down as much information as she thought she might need. One thing was certain, even if she had driven him away, she wasn’t going to just let him abandon her here in this giant house with all of its many servants. This time, she was going to go down there and find him.

* * *

There was a conversation coming. Michael could feel it creeping toward him like a wraith on a foggy night.

He bent down and stacked boxes of chips into his safe and closed it up tight. When he straightened, Patrick was leaning against the doorjamb, blocking his only escape.

“I’m fine, Patrick,” he said grumpily. “I haven’t had a single drink since I got down here, or even the desire for one.”

“I’m glad to hear it, but you’ve been here two weeks, Michael. How long are you planning on hiding from her?”

“I don’t know,” he said with an agitated shrug. He didn’t want this talk that was coming.

“Michael, I’m not going to pry into your personal business.”

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