Page 4 of A Raven Reformed

“Uh…” He blinked rapidly as he pulled his mind from the swirling thoughts inside his head and turned his gaze to where she was pointing. The two sections of the garden were separated by a line of tall trees. “Topiary,” he answered, gesturing to the path on the left.

The archway was only wide enough for one, so she went through first. He offered his arm again once inside, but she ignored him and turned her attention to the surroundings. There really was no need for a guided tour. The shapes were quite obvious and needed no explanation, but she gave it anyway.

“This one is a frog.” They stood for a moment to admire the shape before moving to the next one. “This one is a giraffe.” Other than all being animals, there didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the assortment. It was an odd sort of garden, actually, and became only odder when they eventually reached the far end. There stood the largest of the figures, a mermaid and a unicorn. Presumably a joke he did not understand. Beyond them, however, was a gazebo. Finally, his prayers had been answered. Michael took a step toward the structure and held out his arm once more.

“We should probably head back. Lizzie will wonder where I’ve got to.” Before she could turn away, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Please, Miss Hattigan, I insist. There is something we must discuss before returning to the house.”

She furrowed her brow and looked back across the garden, but after a deep breath, she accepted his arm and allowed him to escort her into the gazebo.

“Have a seat.” Michael gestured toward one of the benches that ran along the walls of the gazebo. She lowered herself onto the bench, her back straight as an arrow and her jaw clearly clenched. Obviously, she wasn’t happy to be alone with a strange man. A part of him was pleased by that. She’d apparently been taught at least some of the rules of propriety. When he had left her fifteen years before, with but a house full of servants to raise her, he’d known there were no guarantees on what kind of woman she would become. Other than the little hiccup with her refusing to be introduced to him—and who could blame her really—she seemed perfectly acceptable. Intelligent enough, mostly polite, and quite easy on the eyes. Michael sat on the bench opposite her and pulled the packet of papers from his breast pocket.

He let out a long breath, trying to decide where to begin. He’d had more than fifteen years to prepare for this moment but had instead spent most of that time trying not to think about it.

“Fifteen years ago,” he began, “well nearly sixteen now, but that’s beside the point.” Michael cleared his throat. “When your father learned of his illness, he wanted to make sure that you would always be protected and looked after.”

“I have been very well cared for, Lord Dalinridge, but I fail to see how that concerns you.” Her eyes narrowed slightly.

Little did she know, it all concerned him. Even from halfway around the world, he was the one who had ensured she had a proper education and all the comforts she deserved. “I am glad to hear it, but your father also wanted to secure your future. He knew the day would come when you’d wish to have a family of your own.”

“Again, my lord, I fail to see how that concerns you.” She was growing agitated. She pressed a palm to her stomach, her chest rising and falling with each of her rapid breaths. He held out a hand to try and calm her, but she recoiled. Michael shook his head. He’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t bungle this.

“What you may not know is that your mother’s dying wish was for you to marry a man from her homeland. A man with a title. Your father went to great lengths, or so I’m told, to choose the man he thought would best suit you.”

“I don’t know to what you are referring, but I assure you, you are mistaken. How could you possibly know such a thing?” She shot to her feet and stared down her nose at him.

“Because your father chose me.” Michael seized the moment. He slid off the bench and onto his knee in front of her. He tucked the papers under his arm, pulled the ring out of his pocket and held it up for her to see. “Will you consent to be my wife, Annabelle?”

“You’re completely mad!” Her eyes were wide with horror.

Before he could even get to his feet, she gathered her skirts in her fists and sprinted from the gazebo. Michael watched as she ran all the way back to the house, not even stopping to look back. She burst through the door and was gone.

He had definitely bungled it.

Slowly, Michael got to his feet and returned the ring to his pocket before also making his way back to the house. By the time he got there, Mr. Carlyle was waiting for him, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“It didn’t go so well then?” he asked, clearly trying to hold back a chuckle.

“No.” The man’s smile was contagious, and Michael couldn’t help but laugh at himself, even if he did feel like a complete sod.

“Mrs. Ingram has gone up to have a talk with Belle. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, so to speak, she might have an easier time than you getting through to her. Let’s enjoy a drink or two, and then I’ll go up with you and we can all talk together.”

ChapterTwo

It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t be. How could her father—? How could Lizzie—? How couldall of themdo this to her?

The door opened, and Lizzie sailed through with her arms open wide, but Belle held up a hand to stop her. “You lied to me!” she shouted. “You knew?” Fury almost choked her. “My whole life, you knew about this, about him, and you never told me?”

“Belle,” Lizzie tried again to embrace her, but Belle pushed her back.

“You are the closest thing I’ve ever had to a mother. How could you keep this from me?”

Lizzie’s hands slowly dropped to her sides, a look of anguish on her face. “I’m sorry, Belle.”

“But why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Lizzie shrugged defeatedly. “It’s what he wanted.”

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