Chapter 2

Chapter Two

I t couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t be. How could her father—? How could Lizzie—? How could all of them do 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.”

“But what about what I wanted?” She pointed at her chest, where inside, her heart was breaking. She’d trusted them. Lizzie, Mr. Carlyle, Brodwell, they were the only family she had.

“I know this is hard, Belle. But we need to discuss what is going to happen.”

Belle scoffed. “Nothing is going to happen. I’m not going to go with him, and I’m certainly not going to marry him.”

Belle watched as Lizzie straightened her spine, preparing herself for battle. “The marriage contracts are long since signed, the chapel is reserved, and the crossing to England already booked. I’m afraid you don’t have any choice in the matter.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Now sit down so we can talk about it.”

Belle did sit down, but not out of obedience. Her legs were suddenly weak and her head had begun to spin. Surely she’d misheard. “What do you mean the chapel is reserved?”

“He wants you to be wed before your crossing in order to preserve your reputation.”

“Well, he won’t need to worry about my reputation, because I’m staying here. He can sail by himself back to England and find a different wife. Surely there must be a woman in that country who will have him.”

“I know you’re upset, Belle, but this is a good thing. He’s a decent man. You’ll be a countess for goodness’ sake. What more could you possibly want?”

“Not that!” Belle jerked to her feet and paced to the window.

“I’m sorry, Belle, but you will marry him on Wednesday morning, and we’ll board the ship directly after the ceremony.”

Belle whipped around. “Wednesday? That’s two days from now.”

Lizzie simply nodded.

“I won’t do it.” Determination was like a rock inside of her, and Belle grabbed hold. She would not allow her entire life to be turned upside down. “You can’t make me,” she said with as much conviction as she could muster. “And if you try, so help me, I will sack you.”

Lizzie closed her eyes for a moment before responding. “Belle, sweetheart?—”

“Do you think I’m bluffing? I will do it. I will sack the lot of you.”

Lizzie threw her hands up. “We don’t work for you. We work for him. We all work for him, Belle. And who do you think owns this house? Hmm?” She let out a huff and shook her head.

Ice spread through Belle’s stomach. It couldn’t be true. But of course it was. She’d never even wondered who owned this house and who paid the servants’ salaries, who bought her clothes, or paid for her education. Mr. Carlyle took care of all of the finances. There was never any talk of money and there was always plenty of it. She’d always known her father had been wealthy and had just stupidly assumed he’d left the money for her. But of course he hadn’t, she was his daughter. He would have had to have left it to a man. How could she possibly have been so ridiculously oblivious of that fact? Her anguish peaked and shattered the last of her control.

“Get out!” she shrieked, pointing at the door.

Lizzie slowly shook her head. She sat down and clasped her hands in her lap. “You don’t have to talk to me, but I’m not leaving you in here alone so you can sneak out that window. In fact,” she said, getting up and pushing the chair over in front of said window. “Just in case I fall asleep.” Then she sat back down, leaned back, and closed her eyes.

Belle wanted to scream. Lizzie was supposed to be on her side. Instead, she was forcing her into a marriage she didn’t want, and now she had blocked her only way out of her room. If she went through the door, she risked running into Lord Dalinridge, the last person she wanted to see right now. Or ever again, for that matter.

“Fine.” She stomped over to the bed and threw herself onto its surface.

She lay on the bed, the events of the evening tumbling round and round through her head, waves of panic, anger, and despair taking turns crashing over her. At some point, shortly before dawn, exhaustion finally overtook her, and she slipped into a fitful sleep.

Belle groaned as Lizzie gently shook her awake some hours later. Bright sun blazed through the window, and her aching head throbbed in response. All at once the events of the previous day flooded her mind. She looked at Lizzie in a panic, hoping beyond hope that it had all been a horrible nightmare, but the exhaustion on Lizzie’s face confirmed her fears.

Lizzie threw back the blankets and reached for Belle’s hand. Numbness settled over her. She didn’t have the energy to fight anymore, so she simply acquiesced. They didn’t share a single word as Lizzie helped her to change her clothes and style her hair. When Belle was presentable, Lizzie walked across to the door and opened it to leave, but Belle didn’t follow her.

Lizzie came back to her side. “I know you’re angry with me, but I do love you, Belle, and I hope one day you’ll understand that all of this is for your own good.”

Belle simply rolled her eyes and turned away.

“Lord Dalinridge has requested an audience with you.”

Belle continued to ignore her.

“It’s past breakfast time, but would you like to do it around the table with a meal? Or in the study?”

“I’m not going to talk to him,” Belle said flatly.

“That wasn’t one of your options,” his deep voice rumbled from the door.

Belle gasped and whipped around. His frame filled most of the doorway as he stood, his arms folded across his chest. He took a confident step into her room.

“How dare you, sir. These are my private chambers.”

He raised one brow in challenge. “It’s my lord.” His tone was soft, yet edged with steel, and for some reason it made her mouth go dry and left her completely speechless.

“Fetch us some tea please, Mrs. Ingram.” Belle watched in some dismay as Lizzie nodded with a quick ‘yes, my lord’ and scurried off to do his bidding. He sauntered into her room and sat down in her chair as if he were—she cringed inwardly as she thought the words—lord of the manor. Mr. Carlyle stood just inside the door, his eyes begging for her forgiveness.

Well, she wouldn’t give it. “How could you do this?” she said coldly to him.

“Sit.” It was a command. Well, lord or not, she did not simply submit to orders.

“No, thank you,” she responded stiffly.

He let out a heavy sigh. “Miss Hattigan, I know this has all come as quite a shock, and for that, I am sorry.”

She scoffed. “The only thing you’re sorry about is that I’m not the perfectly biddable little miss you were hoping for, who would just obediently trot up the aisle because you commanded her to do so.”

A soft chuckle rumbled from him, but his eyes flashed with impatience. “We will be married tomorrow, Miss Hattigan. You are fighting against an inevitability.” He spoke with absolute confidence.

If only she could remain as calm and confident. Instead, her voice rose with apprehension. “You are wrong, sir.”

“My lord,” he corrected again. His voice was smooth but insistent, and it sent a ripple of awareness through her, which only fueled her rising panic.

“Lord or not, I will not marry you!”

He rose slowly from the chair, every inch of him emanating power and control, but he didn’t confront her. He simply turned and walked toward the door.

“Mr. Carlyle,” he said, towering over him, “Miss Hattigan will be at the altar tomorrow morning at nine o’clock sharp. If she isn’t, yourself, Mrs. Ingram, and the rest of the staff here, will be immediately unemployed, and without references.” His voice was stern, without even a hint of sympathy in its hardness. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes, my lord,” Mr. Carlyle stuttered and bowed unsteadily.

“Good.” Without a backward glance, Lord Dalinridge strode from the room, Mr. Carlyle following frantically.

This was her chance to escape. She needed to see Isaac. He would know what to do. She was out her window and down the giant elm to the ground in but a moment. She raced away from the house as fast as her feet would carry her and didn’t stop or look back until she was safely hidden within the trees.

The next several hours felt like an eternity, but she couldn’t leave the cover of the trees in case someone was out looking for her. When nightfall finally came, she dashed straight for Isaac. He would help her.

Isaac had a room in one of the Nelson’s outbuildings, and Belle pounded on his door. He flung the door open, shock registering when he saw her. “Belle?”

She threw herself into his arms. Only when she felt skin against her cheek did she realize he wasn’t wearing a shirt. “I thought there was a fire the way you were pounding.” He gently pushed her off of him and quickly slipped on a shirt.

“Now,” he said, wrapping a long arm around her shoulders. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Tears blinding her eyes and choking her voice, she tried to tell him everything that was happening. The words were mostly unintelligible, and she eventually gave up on talking and succumbed to the sobs that wracked her body.

Isaac slowly and patiently rubbed large circles around her back, allowing her to blubber and bawl until the tears finally began to slow.

“Let’s go for a walk.” He took her hand and led her away from the building. The moon was mostly full and illuminated the fields as they strolled aimlessly. Just being with him, she felt safer.

In the middle of a large clearing, he stopped and lay down on his back, patting the ground beside him. They stared up at the sky silently enjoying each other’s company. It was something they’d done many times before.

“So,” he said, eventually, “tell me what happened.”

Belle was proud of herself for keeping her tears at bay as she told him the entire story. Or perhaps they’d simply run dry. When she finished, Isaac let out a long whistle.

“An earl?”

“Out of that whole story, that’s the part that stood out to you?” He was supposed to be angry along with her and rage about the injustice, not be impressed by the man’s stupid title.

“Well, I have to be honest, Bells, it doesn’t sound like such a bad thing to me.”

“But Lizzie lied to me, all this time.” She turned on her side so she could see his face. He seemed to be mulling over his response.

He turned his head and looked into her eyes. “Because you’ve never had to work in order to survive, I’m not sure you can really understand this. When your employer tells you to do something, you don’t really have any choice, because there will be consequences if you don’t. Perhaps Lizzie didn’t tell you, because she was afraid she’d be sent away if she did, and she didn’t want to lose you.”

With a sigh, Belle flopped back onto her back and stared up at the stars. She’d not even considered that possibility, but now that Isaac had said it, it seemed fairly likely. That still didn’t make it acceptable. She could have told Belle in confidence.

“That seems like all the more reason I shouldn’t marry him, though.”

“What’s the alternative, Bells? Are you going to run away and live by yourself in the forest?”

She tapped the side of his leg with her foot. “Ha ha. You think you’re so funny.”

“Don’t you want a family? You know, a husband and children?”

“Of course I do. I just thought I’d be able to choose the man I marry. Why don’t you run away with me? I don’t see why we couldn’t marry.”

His mouth drew together in a line of disgust. “Bells, you’re like my sister.”

“What if he beats me?”

Isaac got to his feet and helped her up. “You write to me as soon as you get where you’re going, and if he’s a beast, I’ll come and rescue you.”

She giggled and shook her head. It was too bad he wasn’t her brother. He said the kindest things sometimes, even if there was no way he could actually follow through on them.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her. “I’m going to miss you, Bells.”

“Maybe you can come with us. It wouldn’t be so bad if you were with me.”

“What, and leave all this?” He gestured to their surroundings. “Come on, I’ll walk you home. Lizzie is probably worried sick about you.”

With a sigh, she resigned herself to her fate. She took the hand he offered and walked with him back through the trees toward home.

* * *

Michael leaned against a large tree, twirling a dandelion between his finger and thumb. After receiving word that Miss Hattigan had run off, he’d taken up a post that had a clear view of her window, since apparently that’s how she’d left. Assurances that she would come around and return home notwithstanding, he wanted to see it with his own eyes. After all, he was the reason she had fled in the first place.

He just needed to get her to the church and then onto the boat. Once they were back in England, she would settle in. They’d host a house party and introduce her to society. As Lady Dalinridge, she was sure to be loved and respected in no time. Getting her to that point was always going to be a bit of a struggle.

A sudden movement caught his attention. She stepped out of the trees, but she wasn’t alone. She was holding the hand of a man. Tall, thin, dark-haired, and probably about five years older than her if he had to guess. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before letting her go. Was it possible she had a beau? Someone who’d already staked a claim on her heart?

He let out an irritated sigh. That was something he hadn’t even considered.

She dashed across the lawn to the large tree that grew beside her window. Michael blinked as she hiked up her skirts before scampering up the trunk of the tree and along the huge branch that pointed directly in front of her window. In spite of himself, he chuckled. She would definitely keep him on his toes. When he turned back, the other man was already gone.

Tomorrow, she’d be his wife, regardless of whether her heart belonged to another. He blew the remaining white seeds from the dandelion, wishing on every one of them for the strength to get them both through this in one piece.

The following morning, Michael was relieved as she made her way down the aisle of the church, right on time. Mrs. Ingram had managed to have a gown made for the occasion, and Annabelle looked beautiful. Although, she could have worn a potato sack for all he cared. He was just glad he hadn’t had to carry her to the altar kicking and screaming.

She refused to look him in the eye. Her slight trembling was the only evidence that she felt anything at all. Where was the defiant young lady who’d refused to follow his orders and who’d hiked up her skirts to climb trees? Guilt niggled at his stomach. She would come around. She just needed time.

She repeated the lines she was told to and allowed him to slide a ring onto her shaking finger, but she seemed to be in a daze, her eyes not focused on anything. When he pressed a quick kiss against her cool lips, she barely responded. If anything, she seemed relieved it was over.

But it was done. Now they just had to get on the boat, and everything would work itself out. He’d made sure they had separate cabins for the crossing. He sure as hell wasn’t going to force her to share his bed tonight. He might have bungled this whole thing, but he wasn’t a brute.