The Notorious Proposal

by Terry Long

  After depositing her on the seat of the coach, he climbed inside and drew her close. If she was going to fight him, he’d fight back. He needed to hold her.

  Lifting her, he placed her atop his lap. Ally was motionless.

  “Sweetheart,” he crooned. “Do you wish to visit your grandmother’s home before we head back to London?”

  She nodded, but her gaze remained on the old stone structure of the church. Michael gave directions to his coachman, and when the door closed, tucked her wilted body closer to his.

  “You still have me,” he said, but Ally showed no indication that she’d heard.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Oh, Miss Overton! I’ve been so worried!”

  Ally strode inside her old home and disappeared through the narrow corridor without a word.

  “Miss Overton?”

  “She needs time to grieve,” Michael said to the maid, just so Ally wouldn’t be disturbed for the duration of their stay.

  A gasp escaped the tall woman, and she clasped one hand over her chest. “My beloved Mrs. Hoovergrove! God rest her soul.” She crossed herself.

  Outside, where Michael located his wife sitting under the shade of an old apple tree, he took in the surrounding sights. Bursts of vivid greens, whites and yellows winked at him as he approached the opened doorway that led to the garden. Wind chimes rang with the light breeze of the afternoon, making the entire garden appear somewhat dreamlike.

  Ally had propped herself up against the trunk of the tree. Even from behind, she looked fragile, ready to break into pieces. If only she’d let him hold her, if only…

  Michael balled his hands into tight fists and walked back inside. Ally needed a few moments alone, to get used to the idea that her grandmother was gone. He’d take her back to London when she was ready.

  ***

  Ally didn’t want to leave. She never wanted to leave.

  Had Nana actually waited to hear from me before she left? It would seem so. She died the very next day Ally had visited. She’d waited for me.

  Ally dried her cheeks with the back of her hand. Her eyes burned, her head throbbed, and her stomach was not in such a good state. She felt like casting up her accounts, but she didn’t remember the last time she had a meal, wasn’t sure if there was anything in her belly to cast.

  Burying her head in her knees, she closed her eyes. It felt better to close them.

  Nana was in so much pain. And alone. Was Nana frightened when she woke and didn’t see her?

  Ally squeezed her eyes tighter.

  “Are you ready to leave, Ally? Let’s get you home.”

  She turned to the voice, but saw no one in the shadows of the garden. Oh, dear, I am hallucinating! Then she felt a hand on her back, and a pair of strong arms around her, and knew it was him.

  “I do not wish to leave,” she heard herself say in a voice that didn’t sound like her own. It sounded too hoarse and scratchy.

  Michael did not object, but he carried her inside anyway. “Do you wish to stay here tonight?”

  She nodded.

  A familiar jasmine scent surrounded her. Ally opened her eyes. A single candle flickered atop the bedside table, providing her with enough light to know that she was alone in Nana’s chamber, alone on Nana’s bed.

  Gathering up the knitted coverlet, she pulled it under her chin. This was Nana’s favorite coverlet, she realized. Her fingers gripped it so tightly, the palm of her hands throbbed when she finally released it.

  Unbidden, the memory of reading to Nana every night after supper arose. Ally’s breath hitched as she fought the remembrance, and the air squeezed out of her chest, leaving her panting. Drops of tears rolled down the corner of her eyes and she shut them, hopeful for any amount of reprieve. Nothing worked.

  When Ally closed her eyes, she saw Nana’s smile, always ready and enthused. She saw Nana, seated in her overstuffed chair, rocking to and fro, always appearing as though she took the story Ally read aloud, deep into her heart. She saw her beloved grandmother, tending their garden with dirt all the way up her elbows. The harder Ally tried not to see her grandmother, there she was, eyes filled with love and laughter.

  Her chest tightened to a degree of sheer unpleasantness. It became so difficult to breathe, she sat up in bed, gasping for breath. A sob escaped, and her body trembled as she fought to hold back her cries of agony. She covered her mouth with both her hands, wishing she could have seen to her grandmother when she needed her the most. Nana had lain on a sickbed alone. The thought was unbearably depressing; Ally shook her head again and again, disinclined to dwell on it.

  I miss you so much.

  Wracked with ache and misery, she allowed her tears to pour out while she clutched her grandmother’s favorite coverlet to her heart.

  ***

  Ally refused to speak to him. She’d even refused to speak to her maid. She wouldn’t eat a morsel of food, and had been in a trance the entire day. Michael grew worried. He’d rather have Ally be angry than be this way. He didn’t know how to help, didn’t know what to do.

  When she woke in the morning, she went directly outside to the garden and sat in the same exact spot underneath that tree. Michael had left her alone when she told him that was what she wished. But she hadn’t moved, and it was nearly dusk.

  “Let me take you home,” he said to her back. There was no indication that she’d heard; her shoulders didn’t tense at the sound of him approaching, she hadn’t responded to his suggestion.

  Coming around to stand before her, Michael waited until she realized she had company. She turned her face to look at him. He held his breath. It appeared like her mind wasn’t with her body. She looked right through him. A pang of unease hit him. “Come, sweetheart.” His worry intensified tenfold when she let him take her into his arms. He had imagined she would battle him until her last breath.

  “Everything will be fine,” he murmured. “I will take care of you.”

  Michael placed her inside the coach, and that was when she, at last, showed any reaction to acknowledging his presence.

  “I don’t want to leave. I need to stay.”

  Michael set her on his lap. “Let me get you home.”

  Struggling in his arms that held her firmly in place, she told him, “This is my home. I don’t want to go anywhere. Where are you taking me?” The look in her eyes troubled him further. She looked…terrified. He fervently wished it wasn’t because of him.

  “Your other home,” he hurried to whisper, softly against her cheek. “You have another home, do you remember?” Michael caressed the length of her arms in an attempt to soothe her.

  Ally gave him an adamant shake of her head. “I don’t want to stay there,” she whispered back weakly into the dark coach. “I don’t like it there. I will stay here. It is where I belong.”

  Her now widened eyes gave him pause.

  “Ally-”

  “I’m staying here!” Her entire body thrashed.

  “Sweetheart.” Taking the side of her face with a gentle hand, Michael turned her so she would look at him. “You are my wife.”

  Although she looked into his eyes, it didn’t seem as though she recognized him. She blinked slowly several times, as if in profound thought. She cast her eyes down, her shoulders slumping. He swallowed a lump of torment which nibbled at the edges of his heart from her quick acquiescence. He wanted the old Ally back, the one who argued at every turn, the one who lifted her fists to strike him, and the one who cursed him to hell.

  Michael dropped a light kiss onto her head and squeezed her a little tighter in his arms.

  “I am your husband. We need to stay together.” Her body sagged in a manner he knew was in defeat- agonizing him further. However, Michael took advantage of the surrender to arrange her until he cradled her to his heart. “Go to sleep, love. It will be a while until we reach London.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Let me try again. I am more than certain Ally will respond to me this time.” />
  Michael scowled at his brother and braced a hand on the windowsill of the sunroom. “You will do no such thing.” His gaze reverted back to Ally who hugged her knees outside under a maple tree. “She didn’t converse with you when you strived to gain any sort of response from her three days ago, nor did she converse with you yesterday. What makes you certain she’d give in today?” Michael demanded, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.

  He frowned when a fat bumblebee buzzed around Ally and she didn’t bother to shoo it away. The bug left her alone after an annoying set of circles above her head.

  It reminded him of last night when he’d gone to her chamber to console her. Ally did what she did since their return from Dartford- absolutely nothing. She’d lain there, wilted, unmoving, and silent. He tucked the sheets around her and retreated to his study after talking to himself at her bedside for ten minutes.

  Michael sighed with defeat. “You’ll only aggravate her.” Then he turned to give his brother one of his stern glares. “I want nothing but tranquility for Ally during her loss. You’ll not disturb her, do I make myself clear?”

  Victor nodded. “Of course,” he answered without pause, but his gaze still lingered on Ally.

  When his brother peeled his longing gaze off the woman he claimed to love and looked into his eyes, Michael’s gut wrenched into a tight spiral. Because he couldn’t stand the pining look on Victor’s face, he left the sun room, heading straight for the study.

  He wanted to be alone. He needed to be alone. For as long as he could remember, everything Michael had done was for his brother. But now, Michael believed he’d gone and taken the one thing that, by far, was the best thing Victor ever wanted: Ally.

  In the midst of it all, he’d fallen in love with her as well.

  Dropping his head into his hands, Michael shut his eyes and shook his head. Never had anything felt so out of place. He didn’t know how to proceed.

  “Dinner is served, sir.”

  Michael opened his eyes to the voice at the door, lifting his head from the back of his chair. Hell, had he fallen asleep?

  “Is my wife…?”

  “She is above stairs, milord.”

  Michael sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Make sure to send up a dinner tray.”

  “I already did, sir.”

  He nodded in approval. “Good. You may bring mine here.”

  Matthews didn’t appear to agree with the design of his master partaking his supper in his study again this evening, but wisely kept his mouth closed and bowed. “Very good, sir,” he said with just enough displeasure in his voice to make it plain he disliked the idea.

  As Michael shoved whatever supper was into his mouth, his eyes darted to the door. He’d go to her again this evening to offer comfort with whatever soothing words he had. She needed to be comforted.

  But mostly, he wanted to see her, be close to her, touch her- if only to brush his fingertips along her cheek. It was delicate, this task. If he dared touch her any more than that, she’d turn rigid, and he knew she’d feel uneasy. And he didn’t want his wife to feel that with him.

  He wanted so badly to hold her. Michael realized he climbed the stairs even before it registered. God, how much he needed to see her.

  Arriving at her door, he turned the golden brass knob and pushed it in. He strained his eyes into the poorly lit chamber. And all words were lost on him.

  Ally perched on the edge of her bed, her gaze fastened in his direction. It looked as if she expected him all evening.

  Michael’s heartbeat quickened. “Did you consume your supper, sweetheart?” he asked, hoping to sound casual. Shutting the door behind him, he approached her slowly, afraid she’d bolt. “How are you feeling?” He crouched in front of her, and placed a hand over hers that were folded diligently in her lap.

  She tensed, and his heart fell to a thousand little pieces. The thought of Ally despising him wounded him a great deal more than he cared to admit.

  “I want to talk to you,” she said in a light rasp. He wondered if these were her first words she’d spoken in the last few days.

  Michael nodded, never once taking his gaze off her. He noted her drawn brows, the melancholy in her violet eyes, her mouth that was curved into a frown. She looked so damned miserable, he hated it.

  He wanted her to look at him with eyes full of warmth and affection, and smile at him with a mouth that turned up with mirth and bashfulness, and he wanted…so much more.

  “I want an annulment.”

  Michael stopped breathing.

  “I will speak to Victor and make certain he understands that I will never marry him. I won’t ever withdraw my words, you can trust me. I won’t marry Victor. I just want to go home.”

  “I trust you. I trust you, Ally,” he hurried to say. Gently tightening his hold on her hands, he added, “But I cannot give you an annulment.”

  “You must.”

  Michael swallowed hard. “Ally, listen to me.”

  “No. Please let me go.” A haunted look in her shiny eyes caused his throat to pinch the air from his lungs, allowing no breath to come easily. Then came the tears he dreaded to see trailing down her face. “You’ve kept me here long enough. Please, I want to go home.”

  “Sweetheart.” He stood. “There is not a way it can be done.”

  Ally snatched her hands back and looked up at him accusingly. “It could be done. Unions could be annulled when it is as short as ours. It would be feasible.”

  His wife wasn’t making any sense. “Yes, it would be if we hadn’t consummated our marriage.” Did she forget? “But we did.” He wanted to put an end this outlandish conversation. “Quite a few times.”

  She wasn’t at all amused. Hell, there wasn’t even a trace of annoyance or anger or any other form of reaction. His slight humor was ill placed. It probably wasn’t the best time, he thought, cursing himself.

  “Listen, I know you’re angry with me, and you’ve every right. But let me help you, love. I know how hard it is for you right now.”

  “You want to help, Mr. Langdon?”

  He winced at the formal address falling from her lips. He didn’t like where this was going.

  “Then give me an annulment. If I know anything at all,” she said drawing out each word slowly, “I know that you could get this done.”

  Michael studied her closely as he stood over her. Ally returned his gaze with a silent plea in her eyes, it made his chest hurt like the very devil. Presently, his wife begged for distance from him, and he could barely think in her presence. He wanted so much for her to return his affections. Even after all the callous things he’d done.

  Who was he fooling? He didn’t deserve her, he never deserved her.

  “I’d have to come up with an unparalleled reason for an annulment,” he said and noted how keenly she listened. “Perhaps, make up a false account at being unable to perform my…er…male duties as a husband. Though, I’d become quite the outcast.” Ally didn’t even bat an eye. He sighed. “But of course we’d have to prove you’re a virgin.” He watched her closely for any sign of defeat, but did not see any. There was always fraud, but hell, he’d not tell her an annulment could be possible. “Chances are almost next to none, and even if I could obtain the assent from Parliament, it would take months. However, I do not wish—”

  “That would be fine. Thank you.”

  His thousand-pieces of shattered heart now splintered into a million more pieces.

  She scurried to the middle of her bed and sat, pulling the sheets to her chin and refused to look at him further. She looked so weary, so small.

  Michael walked to the side of the bed, eased her against the pillows and tucked the covers around her, the way she always liked. “Go to sleep.” She said nothing but closed her eyes. He took a moment to drink in the sight of her before drying her tears. She stiffened at his touch and Michael immediately removed his hand from her warm skin.

  It was as he deserved. As he snuffed out the single candl
e, Michael swallowed the growing lump in his throat before turning for the connecting door to his own chamber.

  ***

  Michael stood in his large, gleaming entry hall with his eyes locked on the massive doors which his wife had just strolled through, guided by his butler and his housekeeper.

  The room crowded him all of a sudden; he fought for air. His released his clenched fists when droplets of perspiration formed at his temple and the bridge of his nose. A twisting knot formed in the middle of his stomach, churning with every breath he took.

  Ally was leaving him.

  He never endured such sorrow for any reason as he did now.

  Upon the death of his parents, Victor had become the center of his interest. He had directed his thoughts along that course. And it was good and well. But with Ally, Michael could not discern what he ought to do, where he ought to go, or hell, how he ought to carry on.

  Pleading with Ally to stay was out of the question. He was never reduced to begging anyone in all his life. And God’s truth, he wasn’t about to start today. Earlier, he had tried to persuade her, but failed miserably. It wasn’t his fault that every time she was near, he had to touch her. His touch had not been coveted by his somber wife. He didn’t miss Ally’s flinch of repugnance when he took her hand.

  “I should like to return to my home in Dartford posthaste,” she had told him. Albeit she said it softly, Michael heard it as if she’d screamed it aloud. His ears rang with those words and he couldn’t remember how he had replied, but she had murmured her gratitude shortly after. And now…

  “Mrs. Langdon is secured inside the coach, milord,” Matthews announced, bringing him to the present. The weighty look on his butler’s face showed the old man’s disapproval. “Should you like to see her off, milord, before I send Johnston on the way?” His eyes alighted with great cleverness which Michael did not miss.