Page 13 of A Marriage for the Marquess (Barrington’s Brigade #1)
“B radley left behind more than just grief… there were debts, ones we can’t possibly settle.” Her voice trembled with the admission, the facade of the composed lady crumbling to reveal the scared young woman beneath. “We’re facing ruin, Ewan.”
Ewan tightened his grasp on her hand, a wordless vow of solidarity. He leaned in. “Juliet,” his voice was low and confident, “we’ll navigate this together.”
As they sat there, she took another deep breath, the pain evident in her eyes. “Bradley… he took his own life. The shame of his gambling debts was too much for him to bear.” A single tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek.
Ewan put a reassuring arm around her. “I am so sorry for your loss,” he said softly, his thumb gently wiping the tear away.
Juliet’s heart ached with the telling, but Ewan’s warmth provided a small comfort. “Thank you, Ewan. Your kindness means more than you can know.” Her voice was steadied by his touch.
He gazed at her, and she felt a bit uncomfortable. She could see his mind working, putting some pieces together.
“Bradley,” she stared at the carpet. She couldn’t look into Ewan’s face where he’d see her embarrassment. “He was a poor card player. He thought he could win his losses back.”
Ewan’s back straightened, but he never let go of her hand.
After several heartbeats, she faced him. The warmth in his eyes caught her off guard, prompting an involuntary deep breath.
Ewan spoke softly. “Your father’s finances have been compromised as well.”
She glanced at his hand holding hers as a tear, her unwanted, uncontrollable tear splashed on his hand. She nodded. “And there are vowels.”
He held her close, blocking out the world for a moment. She would never forget his support. She gently moved out of his embrace and wiped away the tears that dared to fall. “I mustn’t weep,” her voice firm despite the tremor she couldn’t conceal. “There is still hope. We Fairmonts are made of sterner stuff.”
“I am aware of what a strong woman you are. I’ll return tomorrow to speak with your father,” he said as he stood to leave.
“You can’t,” she blurted out. He stopped in his tracks. “Father is away in Scotland speaking with the family,” she said, a bit panicked. She didn’t know what else to say.
Ewan stared at her. She could see his mind working. Finally, he asked, “Can he count on the family’s help?”
Another response she couldn’t answer. Juliet’s heart clenched, fearing what her father’s visit might lead to. She looked away.
Ewan gently reached around and turned her head toward him. “Juliet, whatever assistance your father seeks from kin, know you have an ally in me.”
Ewan’s declaration and intent were clear, but her pride bristled at the thought of entangling him in her family’s misfortunes. “This is not your battle,” she protested, her voice fortified with stubborn purpose. “I told you because… because you deserved to know the truth from me and not some gossip. I am not asking you for assistance but for your understanding. And allow you to decide whether you wish to continue our association, knowing the full extent of my family’s circumstances.”
His smile was gentle yet unwavering. “Juliet, knowing the truth only deepens why I love you,” he confessed. The word ‘love’ slipped into the conversation with an ease that startled them both. “Your strength, your honesty, and your loyalty are what I admire most about you. I am devoted to you, not just in the good times but through every challenge we may face together.”
Juliet’s eyes grew wide, and a flutter of astonishment seized her chest. She stood up, needing some space between them. “You can’t mean that,” she whispered, the word echoing in her mind. “I cannot allow you to be drawn into this mess. Everything has been quiet so far, but it will not last long. That is when the financial instability of my family, as well as the scandal of Bradley’s passing and what he left behind, could taint your family as well. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if that happened.”
“Juliet, you’ve shared much with me, and I’m grateful for your trust.” His voice was calm and insistent. “But there’s something more, something you’re not telling me. Please, whatever it is, tell me. I cannot help you unless I know everything.”
Juliet hesitated. She hadn’t told anyone of the threats. It would only worry them. As she met his gaze, she recognized not only his concern but also his unyielding strength. “There have been threats, Ewan. Anonymous notes warning of dire consequences if my brother’s debts aren’t settled.”
His expression hardened. “Show me these notes,” he demanded gently, his hand outstretched.
She pulled a note she had just received from her pocket, handed it to him, and stood by as he read it.
Miss Hayward,
Consider this a friendly warning. The debts of the past have a way of reaching into the present. It would be a shame if the beauty of Fairmont were marred by misfortune. The consequences unbareble if actions are not taken. I trust you’ll find a way to settle accounts before matters take an unfortunate turn.
A Concerned Observer
“No one threatens you without facing my retribution.” Ewan’s firm determination was evident in the set of his jaw, a silent pledge of his protection.
Juliet’s breath caught as the air between them became charged with a tension that was both thrilling and terrifying. She heard his declaration spoken with purpose and sincerity.
“I cannot let you be drawn into my family problems.” She shook her head and took a step back. But he took her by the shoulders. She could not turn away.
“You have no say in what I allow myself to be drawn into,” Ewan said, his voice low and unwavering. “I refuse to stand idly by when I can help.”
He drew her in closer, close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating from him. Juliet’s earlier decision melted under the intensity of his gaze. She knew she should maintain a distance and protect both their hearts from the potential pain of a future denied. Yet, as she looked up at him, all thoughts of caution vanished.
“Ewan,” she whispered. “You mustn’t—”
But her protest was silenced as he leaned down. His lips captured hers in a gentle kiss. The kiss spoke of support, shared burdens, and a growing affection that refused to be ignored.
Juliet’s hands found their way to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his coat as she returned his kiss, her mind a frenzy of emotion. She felt a surge of hope, a daring belief that perhaps they could face the future together, no matter the obstacles.
Their kiss deepened, and little by little, the excuses Juliet used to protect her heart began to crumble. Ewan’s touch was tender, his kiss a comfort to the silent fears that had haunted her. In his embrace, she found strength and a sense of safety she hadn’t known she craved. The world outside, with its expectations and judgments, faded into insignificance. In this moment, there was only Ewan, his kiss, and the promise of a love that might conquer all.
As the intensity of their embrace waned, Ewan became acutely aware of the propriety they challenged. With great reluctance, he eased back, his hands sliding from her back to grasp her hands gently. “I should leave,” he whispered, his words heavy with unspoken longing.
He led her by the hand to the drawing room door. When they finally parted, breathless and wanting more, Juliet looked up into Ewan’s eyes, seeing not just the marquess but the man who was kind and brave.
His gaze held a silent vow that this was only the beginning. He released her hands as if letting go of a treasured possession and stepped back toward the threshold. “I must go. ’Till it be morrow,” he murmured, a tender echo of their farewell at Covent Garden.
And with that, he turned and stepped through the doorway, leaving her with a heart full of hope.
In the quiet that followed Ewan’s departure, Juliet grappled with a whirlwind of emotions. His offer to help and declaration of affection were a quiet reassurance against her persistent worries. A sharp rap at the door jolted Juliet back to reality. Her heart leaped with the hope that Ewan had returned. She quickly made her way to the foyer, her bearing poised, her expression serene. Mr. Wilcox opened the door and found Mr. Wickham, whose insistent rap on the door was more demanding than polite, on her doorstep.
“Miss Hayward,” he began, his voice carrying an edge of impatience, “this is the third time I’ve called regarding the debt owed. I trust you understand the gravity of the situation.”
“I am fully aware, Mr. Wickham,” Juliet replied, her voice steady despite the tension knotting her stomach. “My family is working diligently to address the matter. I ask for your patience.” Her gaze was unwavering, meeting his with a quiet defiance that contradicted her refined appearance.
Mr. Wickham’s eyes narrowed. His behavior was unyielding as he took a step closer. “Patience is a luxury I can no longer afford. If the debts are not settled, I will be forced to take what is due to me.” His gaze dropped to the pearl earrings Juliet wore, a gift from her late grandmother. “Those will do nicely.” He pointed to her earrings. “They’ll look fine on my wife.”
Juliet’s hand instinctively rose to her earlobes. The pearls were a family treasure worth ten times the cost of a suite for Bradley that Mr. Wickham swore he made, but Mr. Wilcox nor Mrs. Murthy were able to locate. “You will not have my earrings, sir,” she declared, her voice cold, her verdict final. “We will settle our accounts, but not through such means.”
“Now, see here,” he wagged his finger at her.
“No, sir. You see here.” The command in her voice had him step back.
“Our accountant has instructed me not to pay your bill until he completes his investigation of those charges. Do I make myself clear, sir?” She spit out each word to make certain Mr. Wickham thoroughly understood her meaning.
The hate she saw in his eyes was nothing compared to her anger. “I believe that will be all for today, Mr. Wickham.”
Juliet closed the door behind a retreating Mr. Wickham. Her heart raced, but her spirit was unbroken as she leaned against the door. The cool wood contrasted with the heat of her flushed cheeks. Her breaths were sharp and quick. “Compose yourself, Juliet,” she whispered, her voice a soft command in the silent foyer.
The echo of Mr. Wickham’s fading footsteps was a bleak reminder of the delicate balance she now had to maintain between her family’s honor and their impending ruin. Her hands, though trembling from anger and fear, were not weak. They were the hands of a woman preparing to fight for her and her family’s future.
The thought of Ewan and the support he had offered was a comfort to her frayed nerves. He could shield the family from the scandal, but the mention of love, a bond that might deepen into something profound, was enticing. Ewan had offered her a lifeline, not out of obligation, but from a place of genuine caring. With Ewan, there was the promise of more than just a marriage of convenience; there was the possibility of true companionship and love.