wanted an update on the mystery, but she knew that wasn’t completely true. In fact, it wasn’t true at all. She liked spending time with him.
“Have you decided what you’re going to wear for the ceremony?”
“Ceremony?” Annabelle forced her thoughts to return to the conversation as they continued along the path.
Margaret paused mid-stride to stare at her in disbelief. “Your wedding ceremony.”
“Oh. Of course.” Her heart thumped alarmingly. She’d been so caught up in the murders and all that went with them, she hadn’t thought about the details surrounding the actual marriage. And perhaps it was too unsettling to think about. Did Thomas truly care for her? Would they be happy together? Would he support her desire to continue writing?
Her sister’s dark eyes, so like her own, narrowed with suspicion. “What will you wear?” As if her answer—or lack thereof—indicated whether she was prepared to wed.
Annabelle quickly considered her options. “I was thinking of the primrose gown with the white ribbons.”
“The neckline is too high.” Margaret started forward again, and Annabelle did as well. “What about the green one? The color does wonders for your skin.”
“That might work, though it’s rather plain.” Annabelle drew a breath of relief that her sister believed her. “Oh. Of course. I’ll wear the pink one you just gave me.” A frisson of excitement filled her at the thought. She’d been saving it for a special occasion. Little had she known just how special it would be.
“How perfect. Why don’t I make some small flowers out of ribbon to place along the waist as well as a few more for your hair?”
“Thank you, Margaret. I’d like that.”
“I still don’t think you’re acting like a woman about to be married,” Margaret whispered as they paused to admire a delicate yellow rose.
“Then how am I acting?” Guilt slid through her as she knew Margaret was right.
“More like Caroline did. As if you expect your betrothal might end before the wedding.”
Annabelle said nothing for a long moment as her thoughts swirled. “I didn’t intend to marry any time soon.” Or ever, she added silently. But with each day that passed, it seemed as if her life would truly be changing and soon. Thomas’s suggestion that they marry in two weeks had shocked her and she was still adjusting to the idea.
As if sensing her unease, Margaret reached for Annabelle’s hand and held it tight as she turned to face her. “Have you concerns about Mr. Raybourne? I realize he’s reputed to be a rake, but he’s quite handsome and kind. More so than I expected.”
Annabelle managed a smile, not wanting to worry her sister. “I agree.” Her nerves would soon calm. There were several parts of marrying Thomas to which she looked forward. If only she could find the courage to discuss what their marriage would be like. Did she dare hope for a true partnership? Would he be happy to hear she wished to continue writing?
“Are you worried he won’t change his roguish behavior after you marry?”
“No.” She realized it was true. Lady Helen’s remarks might have unsettled her, but from what she’d seen, Thomas had already changed.
“Then what is it?”
“I worry that marrying will change me.” Annabelle blinked at the sudden moisture in her eyes. She hadn’t meant to tell Margaret any of this. After all, Annabelle was the older sister and should be an example to Margaret. She should be the wiser one.
“In what way?” Margaret’s question held no judgment, no quick dismissal of Annabelle’s worry.
“What if I don’t want to write anymore once we marry?” Already she’d been so caught up in all that was happening that she hadn’t managed to make any progress to speak of on her new story.
“But isn’t it good that you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to?”
“I suppose, though I can’t imagine not wanting to. It would be like not wanting to breathe.”
“I can certainly understand. I feel much the same way about designing gowns.”
“You know I often work late,” Annabelle said. “Or sometimes wake in the middle of the night when inspiration strikes and rise to write it down before I forget. I lose track of time and miss meals when ideas take hold. How will a husband fit into all that?”
Margaret held her gaze, her expression full of sympathy, but didn’t seem to have an answer.
“And...” Annabelle hesitated, uncertain how to explain it. “I don’t want marriage to change who I am.”
“New experiences tend to change us, whether we want them to or