Page 22 of A Return of the Wicked Earl (The Shadows 1)

“I shall talk to the young gentleman outside, and if he wishes to court you, he’ll have to do it in a manner propriety dictates.”

“But—”

“No,” he said harshly. “He either courts you properly or not at all.”

Annalise downcast her eyes and took a step back. Her mother appeared from behind her at the same time and ushered her back to her room.

The next day, Annalise sat in a barouche next to Lord Norfolk with a grimace of quiet resignation on her face. Her father had kicked Blake out the day before, and she hadn’t heard from him since. She had hoped he would send her a note or call on her the next day, but he didn’t. She flipped her fan open and closed several times, looking at the crowds of people around them. Other barouches stopped by their side occasionally. The occupants exchanged gossip and idle chatter and moved on.

It was a beautiful, sunny day. She was out in the park with a suitor, like she had dreamed thousands of times before. She should have been happy. But her mood was sour, and she was counting the seconds until this outing was over. At least Norfolk had spoken a few sentences today. She supposed it could have been worse.

Annalise heard the loud hoofbeats of an approaching mare before a rider caught up to them and slowed down to match their speed.

He took off his hat and bowed with a flourish. Annalise turned and froze, warmth unfurling in her chest, a genuine smile appearing on her face.

“Miss Annalise.” Blake leaned in, took her hand, and bowed over it. Annalise’s hand tingled at the contact. “Norfolk.” Blake gave a brief bow.

“Moore.” Norfolk parroted the action.

“What beautiful weather, wouldn’t you say?” Blake grinned at Annalise, and she bit her lower lip. “I would say it is perfect for a short stroll,” he continued.

“I am perfectly comfortable in my barouche,” Norfolk answered, and Blake raised his brow at Annalise.

Her eyes widened for a brief moment before she made a decision. “I would love a stroll.”

Blake flashed her a wide smile, cantered ahead, handed his reins to Norfolk’s groom, and slid off the horse. He then walked to the side of the barouche, opened the door, and offered his hand to Annalise.

“What are you doing?” Norfolk barked, sounding confused and irritated.

“Taking Miss Annalise for a stroll,” Blake said, seemingly unperturbed, and gave Annalise a wink.

Annalise stretched her arms toward him, and he handed her down.

“Here, now, Moore! This isn’t done!” Norfolk protested.

But Annalise wasn’t listening to his sputtering anymore. She was distracted by Blake’s dark brown eyes staring straight into her soul and by the warmth of his hands holding her by the waist.

When she hit the ground, she was breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed, her eyes frantic. Blake held her a little longer than was strictly necessary or proper. He then offered his arm and turned to Norfolk.

“Nothing improper is going on, Norfolk. I invited you both for a stroll, and you refused. You wouldn’t deprive a lady of a walk because of your stuffiness, now would you?”

“But—”

“Thank you for agreeing to watch over my mount for me. We’ll be back in a flash.” With that, he turned and ushered a giggling Annalise away.

They walked a few paces in silence. Finally, Annalise looked at him from beneath her eyelashes and said, “I didn’t expect to see you here. Or at all, for that matter.”

Blake grinned as he looked at her. “Your father might have inadvertently mentioned yesterday that proper suitors show up on time and invite ladies out for a ride in the park in advance. Like the—oh, so respectable—Lord Norfolk, who did just that. So, I’ve decided to join your rendezvous.”

“If anybody noticed my defection from Lord Norfolk’s barouche, there will be a scandal.”

“Oh, I do not doubt it.” Blake grinned at her wolfishly.

They greeted a few couples promenading in the park before Blake looked around and suddenly led her away to a narrow path among the trees.

“Where are we going?” Annalise giggled as they hid away from the afternoon crush in the park.

“Do not fret, my dear. I shall have you back in a jiff.”

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