Page 16 of A Marriage for the Marquess (Barrington’s Brigade #1)

April 20, 1820

L ate morning found Glenraven in his study, the light filtering through the windows catching the letter on the salver on his desk. He read it carefully, recognizing the handiwork. He couldn’t help but smile. “Duncan,” he murmured, appreciating the man’s forthrightness and meddling. The letter confirmed his intentions. He would ask for Juliet’s hand and celebrate their union with a gala to announce their engagement.

Before he could muse further, Duncan and Hughes came through the door. The solicitor entered with the air of a man bearing a heavy responsibility. “A threat has been made,” Hughes announced and handed Ewan the note.

Ewan’s mind raced as he turned the letter over in his hands. The words in the spidery scrawl warned him.

“ Marquess, the misfortune that fell upon your father now looms over those you cherish. Their well-being hangs in the balance, much like he did. Consider this a caution: the legacy of Glenraven is not immune to being reduced to mere echoes and dust. The consequences will be unbareable if you do not heed this warning .”

Sebastian’s face flashed before him—the easy smile, the casual toss of the cards the night before. It would be easy to cast him as the villain. Yet, Ewan’s thoughts drifted to Whitby, lurking in the shadows, his eyes darting greedily toward the pile of coins. And there was always the mysterious Gray, whose fortunes had turned as dark as his name suggested. No, it wasn’t just Sebastian who left the table with his pockets less than he desired.

“With your birthday on the horizon, less than a fortnight away,” Duncan added, “One can’t help but wonder if this isn’t a ploy to keep you from the altar.”

Ewan paced the room, his mind in an uproar. “Marriage? Now?” His temper flared. The idea that had warmed him moments ago seemed more absurd by the second. “With this shadow upon my house?” He shook the paper at Hughes and Duncan.

“It seems the law cares a great deal about timing but not for threats.” Hughes reminded him. “Your title, your estate—it all depends upon you marrying.”

Ewan reconsidered his plans as the reality of his predicament sank in. He handed Hughes the letter regarding Juliet, his confession of love for her a whisper in the quiet room. “I can’t put Juliet in danger, Hughes. I won’t.”

“This marriage could be the perfect answer. It secures your title. Marrying Miss Hayward gives her the protection she requires.”

The suggestion ignited a fire in Ewan. The thought of Juliet in harm’s way was unbearable. His jaw tightened, and his fists clenched at his sides. The idea of anyone threatening her safety made his blood boil. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions, but the intensity of his feelings was undeniable.

“Ewan.” Hughes and Glenraven turned to Duncan. “Do you remember when my father arranged for my sister Mary Rose to marry—”

“Pardon me, Duncan,” Glenraven interrupted his man. “I am not interested in Mary Rose at the moment.”

“You should be. She holds the answer for you.” He stood by the door, confident and knowing.

“Go on, Duncan,” Hughes gave Glenraven a quick glance, then focused on Duncan. “I’ll listen.”

Duncan nodded and glanced at Glenraven, who waved his hand, signaling him to continue.

“My father arranged for Mary Rose to marry Laird Alasdair MacGregor without her consent, unaware she loved another—Liam Fraser. In defiance, they married in secret and kept it hidden for months.”

Glenraven’s gaze sharpened. “And you believe this is the path I should take with Juliet?”

Duncan’s eyes met his friend’s. “Aye. Keep your marriage a secret. Keep her safe. Until we’ve dealt with the threat.”

Glenraven had made many difficult decisions, but none with as much to lose as this one. The thought of Juliet in harm’s way was unbearable. But Mary Rose’s secret defiance brought a glimmer of hope.

“So, my friend,” Duncan’s voice broke through his thoughts, a hint of lightness in his tone, “shall we venture to the archbishop and secure a special license?”

Once heavy with dread, the room now echoed with the possibility of a brighter future. Ewan nodded, his heart buoyed by the thought of marrying Juliet, of facing their challenges together.

“We’ll both join you.” Duncan glanced at Hughes, who nodded with a smile. “You may need someone to vouch for you.”

Ewan shook his head with a silent chuckle. “Your company would be appreciated.” As they prepared to leave, Ewan’s attention was caught by an unfamiliar invoice on his desk. “What’s this?” he asked, holding the document from Mr. Wickham’s tailor shop.

“Ah, I meant to mention that earlier.” Duncan scratched his head. “Found it among your father’s things. Odd, isn’t it?”

Ewan’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the document. “My father never patronized Wickham’s. Why would this be in his possessions?”

“This is one of the items in question. Fletcher had asked me if you purchased the goods. I assured him you had better taste.”

Glenraven studied the bill further, his mind racing. “You’re correct. These items are neither mine nor my father’s transactions.

“Fletcher and I concluded.” Duncan took a breath. “Someone’s been using your father’s account.”

“Who would dare?” Glenraven’s voice filled the room, a roar of anger that sent papers fluttering from his desk.

“Someone who thinks he is immune to any consequences.” Duncan’s eyes darkened. “Perhaps someone who already thinks the accounts are his.”

“Surely, you don’t mean…” Hughes took a step forward but was unable to finish his sentence.

“Wickham was evasive until Fletcher mentioned the magistrate. Then he suggested speaking to Sebastian Morgrave,” Duncan said, his stance rigid with anger.

Frustration and realization mingled into one as Glenraven’s hand swept through his hair. “Sebastian’s behavior last night… it’s all starting to make sense.

“Arrange a meeting with Sebastian,” Glenraven instructed Hughes, his voice commanding. “We need answers.”

As the three opened the door to leave, they found Mr. Fleming, his butler, about to enter. “You have a caller, my lord. I’ve put her in the drawing room.”

“Her?” Glenraven was too startled to say anything further.

“Yes, my lord. Miss Juliet Hayward.”

*

“Juliet,” Ewan called out as he entered the drawing room. His voice, though quiet, carried across the room. There she was, a silhouette against the window, haloed by the light.

She turned, her eyes wide, with a tumult of emotion that was easy for him to see.

“Ewan, there’s something I must tell you.” Her voice was steady, but her hands betrayed her nerves.

He moved closer, reaching out to offer her comfort.

“No. Please.” Her voice was a whisper as she stepped away from him, her hand raised in a silent plea that he not come closer.

He stopped, his arms falling to his sides.

“My mother… she’s found a suitor.” She stared at the blue Aubusson carpet. “She believes it’s the answer to our family’s problems, so you see, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. You don’t have to marry your mother’s suitor.” His voice was firm. “I already know, and I have a plan.”

Her gaze snapped up to meet his. “You do?”

“Before I tell you more, there is something you must know.” He drew in a breath, the air seemingly heavier with the gravity of his admission. “Juliet, the Aurington name is not merely a title—it’s a legacy with a centuries-old edict. The heir must marry before his thirtieth birthday to secure the lineage and estate’s future. As my father’s oldest son and Marquess of Glenraven, I am bound by this duty, a charge that ensures the continuity of our line and the preservation of our estate.” He paused to give her a moment. “I sought a wife at Lady Gladstone’s gala, but fate presented me with an unforeseen treasure. Instead, I found… my soul mate.”

Juliet’s eyes widened with realization. “Aunt Geraldine told me about the edict at Lady Gladstone’s Gala. You were concerned that I would think you were manipulative and devious.” Her laughter was touched with irony and softened with understanding. “What a pair we are. We’re both afraid to disappoint the other. But I don’t see how your situation solves my problem.”

“Marry me.” He stepped forward and cradled her hands with his own. “Now. Hughes and Duncan are in the library, prepared to accompany us to the Archbishop of Canterbury and secure—”

“A special license?” Her words were barely above a whisper, and her eyes were wide in disbelief.

Glenraven’s expression grew somber, a jovial marquess replaced by a man bearing the gravity of an untold secret. “Yes. But there is more to our story, a complication. Someone has threatened my family and implied my father’s mishap wasn’t accidental.” He moved closer, her presence a refuge. “We’ll need to marry secretly and live apart until the threat ends. But more importantly, you must understand that marrying me means you may be in danger, too.”

In the silence that followed, Juliet’s eyes met his, with a storm of consideration churned behind them. After a moment, she nodded, her decision made. “Together, then,” she said, her voice a whisper of courage.

His relief was unmistakable. “Together,” he confirmed, their fates now irrevocably intertwined. He closed the distance between them, his gaze locked with Juliet’s. The air seemed still, heavy with their undeclared promise. His hands gently cradled her face as he leaned down, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was tender proof of their unspoken vows.

The world outside faded, leaving only the sensation of Juliet’s soft and yielding lips against his. The kiss deepened, a slow dance of intimacy that spoke of shared secrets and the promise of a future together. It was a kiss that sealed their fate, binding them with a passion that whispered of love and a defiance of the dangers ahead.

“Together,” he murmured against her lips, “we will create our own destiny.”

Juliet’s response was immediate. Her lips sought his with an enthusiasm that she didn’t try to contain. She answered his declaration not with words but with action.

Her hands rose to frame his face, pulling him closer and deepening their embrace. She was wholly devoted, her heart and soul entwined with his in the silent language of love that needed no words to be understood.

“Come with me. Duncan and Hughes are in the library.” Glenraven, still holding Juliet’s hand, led her to where they waited. The door swung open to reveal the two men standing amidst the rows of leather-bound books. Their faces turned in unison towards them.

Duncan beamed as he came forward to greet them. “It seems congratulations are due,” he said warmly. “The days ahead look all the brighter with you two at the helm.”

Hughes stepped forward, offering a respectful nod. “Indeed, Miss Hayward, you have our best wishes. This is a cause for celebration.”

The library, a sanctuary of silent musings, now buzzed with a pleasant warmth, its air charged with the profound excitement of shared anticipation and fellowship. Glenraven’s fingers tenderly entwined with Juliet’s, a soft caress of the promising romance between them, and his profound gratitude for her bravery and trust.

“We need to go to the archbishop.” Hughes removed his watch from his pocket. “It’s close to noon. We want to see His Excellency before he goes out for the afternoon.”

With the matter settled and their course set, they made their way to the carriage. As they settled into their seats, Juliet felt the ace of hearts in her pocket, a reminder of Bradley and the shadow quest. Her curiosity surfaced.

“Ewan, what is the shadow quest you mentioned?” she asked, her voice filled with intrigue.

Ewan’s gaze lingered on her, noting her interest. “The shadow quest is akin to a scavenger hunt. It’s a series of clues that lead to… something of significance. My cousin and I played the game as boys, racing through Aurington Manor’s halls and the grounds, deciphering each clue.”

Juliet listened intently, her mind already turning over the possibilities. “And the ace of hearts?” Her question was casual yet pointed.

“It’s a pivotal piece in the game. It’s not an ordinary card. It leads to the next clue.”

He studied her for a moment, a question dawning. “Juliet, why all these questions about the shadow quest and the ace of hearts?”

With a deep breath, Juliet reached into her reticule and withdrew a worn playing card—the ace of hearts. “My brother had it when he…” Her voice was steady, but her hands betrayed a slight tremor. “…when he died. I can’t help but wonder if there’s a connection.”