Page 10 of A Marriage for the Marquess (Barrington’s Brigade #1)
J uliet’s heart raced as she stood with Glenraven on the terrace, the night air cool against her skin. His nearness was both exhilarating and unnerving. Glancing at the sky and its expanse, her mind toyed with infinite possibilities. With a breath, she found the courage to voice a question about her hidden desires. “Do you ever dream of a different life, Lord Glenraven?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. It betrayed her longing for a world beyond her family’s misfortunes and her duty.
He didn’t respond, and she followed his gaze that had drifted to the distant garden wall and wondered what he was thinking.
“Often,” he admitted, at last, his eyes returning to meet hers. His voice carried a rare note of vulnerability that resonated with her hidden yearnings. “I dream of a life where my choices are guided by passion rather than obligation. A life filled with the pursuit of knowledge, the joy of discovery, and perhaps,” a playful spark ignited in his eyes, “a touch of adventure in far-off lands.”
Juliet smiled at his last remark. She listened, captivated by the way his words echoed her dreams. The earnestness in his voice had her heart fluttering at the thought of such a life where she would be free to explore the depths of her passions alongside someone who understood her.
She stared into his eyes, and a silent understanding passed between them, a shared yearning for a life without the expectations that came with rank or obligation. The feeling spanned beyond the terrace, beyond the night. It was as if he had uncovered her secret wishes—a life where a person could be true to their own heart.
“And you, Miss Hayward?” Glenraven inquired, turning the question to her. “What life do you dream of?”
“A life where laughter is plentiful, and love is the measure of wealth.” Those were her innermost desires. As she spoke, her gaze never wavered from his, and she saw a reflection of her dreams in the depths of his eyes. “Where every day is a canvas to be painted with the bright colors of joy and the quiet shades of contentment.”
In the silence that followed, Glenraven stepped closer, his presence wrapping her in a warmth she hadn’t expected but, oh, so greatly enjoyed. The terrace, the stars above, and the distant sounds of the gala—all faded into the background as the moment between them deepened into something intense and intimate.
Glenraven’s hand rose, almost of its own accord, and gently cupped her cheek, his thumb caressing her skin with the softest touch. Their eyes locked, and Juliet’s heart pounded with anticipation, as well as a healthy dose of trepidation.
Time seemed to stand still. Glenraven leaned in, his intentions clear in his half-lidded gaze. Juliet’s eyes fluttered closed, her body instinctively tilting towards his, her lips parting slightly in a silent invitation.
Her breath hitched as she moved closer to him, drawn by a force she couldn’t resist. Their faces were inches apart. The warmth of his breath caressed hers, a tender prelude to a kiss that hovered just out of reach.
But then, laughter spilled from the ballroom, shattering the intimate spell. Juliet stepped back, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “We should return.” Though every fiber of her being screamed to stay.
Glenraven nodded, the regret in his eyes mirroring her own. “Yes, we mustn’t forget ourselves.” As they stood in silence, savoring the moment, a sudden cheer erupted from the open window of the card room. The celebration broke the quiet, drawing their attention to the world inside.
Glenraven glanced toward the source of the commotion, a wry smile forming on his lips. “It seems someone has had a stroke of luck.” His gaze returned to Juliet.
“The ace of hearts, perhaps,” she uttered impulsively, the words escaping her lips before she could give them any thought. The image of the ace of hearts among her brother’s belongings had flashed in front of her.
Glenraven’s eyes met hers, a spark of intrigue in their depths. “Are you familiar with the game? A bit of a legend my father shared with me. The shadow quest.”
Juliet leaned in, intrigued. “A shadow quest? What is that?”
“It’s a game of sorts, a mystery that involves the ace of hearts,” Glenraven explained, his voice low. “The card is said to be hidden somewhere in the city along with three others. Finding the cards leads to a hidden secret.”
Juliet’s eyes widened with interest. “And what does one do if they find this ace of hearts?”
Glenraven’s smile turned mysterious. “That, Miss Hayward, is a question only the finder of the matching card can answer. But for me, it’s a clue that might lead to justice. There is another explanation of the ace of hearts.”
Juliet stood beside Glenraven. The mention of the Ace of Hearts sent a shiver down her spine. It was not just the night’s chill that startled her but the sudden connection to the card she had found among her brother’s belongings and Lord Glenraven. Her mind raced with questions. Was her brother’s Ace of Hearts part of this shadow quest? Did Glenraven hold the matching card that would lead to answers?
“The ace of hearts is said to be a sign of impending change, love, and emotion.”
Juliet pushed aside thoughts of her brother, the ace of hearts, and her quest. Tonight was not for dark musings or seeking shadows. Tonight was for the unexpected joy she found in Glenraven’s company. She looked up at him, her eyes reflecting a lovely innocence.
“Lord Glenraven.” Her voice was steady despite the turmoil. “Tonight has been a gift,” one she didn’t know she needed, echoed in her head. “Let us leave the shadow quest and the ace of hearts for another day.”
Glenraven nodded. “Indeed, Miss Hayward. I couldn’t agree with you more.”
They stepped back into the ballroom together, where the music played. The memory of their almost kiss remained their private secret.
“Juliet, there you are. Good evening, my lord.” Aunt Geraldine approached them with a graceful stride.
Glenraven respectfully inclined his head. “Lady Rosefield.”
He gazed at Juliet, and she saw the same pang of regret in his eyes that she felt in her heart. The easy friendship and peace they had shared on the terrace lingered. “Thank you, Lord Glenraven, for a memorable evening.”
“The honor was mine. Until our paths cross again.” His gaze held hers a moment longer before he stepped away, leaving her in the care of her aunt.
Aunt Geraldine looped her arm through Juliet’s and led her across the ballroom. Juliet’s thoughts were a whirlwind. The image of Glenraven bathed in moonlight was imprinted on her heart and mind.
“My dear Juliet,” Aunt Geraldine began, her voice low but intense. “You’ve certainly caught the eye of one of London’s most sought-after bachelors. Lord Glenraven’s attention is no small triumph.”
Juliet felt a flutter of pride at her aunt’s words, but it was quickly tempered by the gravity in her tone. “But, my dear, you must tread carefully.” Aunt Geraldine’s gaze was steady and serious. “Do not set your hopes upon this one encounter. Rumors abound that he may soon return to Paris, and the fancies of men are ever changeable, especially so far from home.”
The warning echoed deeply, grounding her soaring spirits. “I understand, Aunt Geraldine. I will remain cautious.” Even as her heart held on to the hope that Glenraven was different, Juliet assured her aunt that what they shared was beyond mere fancy.
As they mingled among the guests, Juliet’s mind was a whirl of emotions—hope, uncertainty, and a daring wish that, despite the rumors, Glenraven’s heart might just be waiting for someone—someone like her.
*
As dawn’s first light began to chase away the night, Glenraven arrived at his townhouse, the echoes of the Gladstone ball and the card room still ringing in his ears. Yet, Juliet Hayward dominated his thoughts. In the dimly lit foyer, he paused, a hand on the cool banister, lost in his musings.
“Evenin’ or should I say mornin’,” Duncan greeted him, his voice steady as always. “Was the evening worth the fuss?”
Glenraven offered a half-smile, the memory of the near kiss on the terrace lingering. “The evening was… enlightening. More than I expected.” He let out a heavy sigh as he allowed the image of Juliet to fade. He turned to Duncan. “Have you ever found yourself at a crossroads caught between the expectations of your station and the yearnings of your heart?”
Duncan gazed at his friend with a thoughtful expression. “Aye, that I have. It’s the bane of every man, noble or not.”
Glenraven’s fingers tightened around the banister. “I am to marry for the benefit of the family, yet tonight, I found myself questioning that very path.” He started up the stairs, Duncan beside him.
“Miss Hayward? She’s made you think twice, then?”
A genuine smile tugged at the corners of Glenraven’s lips. “She’s…remarkable. There’s a fire… Indeed, she is unlike any woman I have ever met.”
Duncan opened Glenraven’s bedroom door and nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. “Well, maybe it’s time to follow the fire instead of the cold trail of duty.”
Glenraven undressed, giving Duncan his evening clothes while his friend’s words echoed in his heart. “Maybe you’re right.” Saying the words and coming to that decision was both terrifying and exhilarating. He stood at the bed.
“I’ll be in my room if you think of anything you need or want to discuss.” Duncan quietly left.
Glenraven eased himself onto the mattress, the cool linens a stark contrast to the warm thoughts Juliet brought. He stretched out, his hands behind his head, staring at the canopy overhead. The image of Juliet’s smile lingered, as did her laughter. Was she his future? As sleep began to claim him, his last conscious musings were dedicated to thoughts of her.