Page 17 of A Marriage for the Marquess (Barrington’s Brigade #1)

G lenraven held the worn card between his fingers, turning it over. As his eyes fell upon the back, his breath hitched. There, faint but unmistakable, was the shadowy raven symbol of the Order of Shadows.

He ran a thumb over the symbol, a chill creeping up his spine. His mind raced with questions and half-formed fears. What does this mean? How deeply is the Order involved in our lives? If Juliet’s brother had a card, what had he uncovered before his death?

Juliet leaned closer, her eyes searching his face for answers. “Ewan, what is it?”

“This card.” He showed it to her, his voice was low, barely more than a whisper. “It’s identical to one I found among my father’s belongings. It can’t be a coincidence.”

Juliet’s eyes locked onto the card in Ewan’s hands, a frown creasing her brow. “What could it possibly signify?”

He met her gaze, the mystery urging them to take action. “It means there’s a connection we’ve yet to understand. The shadow quest my father devised is more than a game. And this card,” he said, holding it up to the light, “it’s a clue, one that we must decipher.”

For a moment, he considered telling her about the Order of Shadows. The words hovered on his lips, but he held them back. The implications were too dangerous, and he didn’t want to alarm her without information and proof.

Duncan, sitting across from them, cleared his throat, breaking the momentary silence. “If it’s a clue, it’s the start of our hunt. We need to follow where it leads.”

Glenraven spotted Hughes’ nod of agreement. It was clear to him that Hughes saw the urgency of their situation. “Securing the marriage is paramount.” Hughes echoed Glenraven’s priority. “It’s the shield that will guard you both.”

Juliet leaned close so only he could hear. “I can hear your thoughts. No, I haven’t changed my mind.”

Ewan took her hand and squeezed it gently. “I am the most fortunate of men. The most fortunate.”

With everyone in agreement, they temporarily cast aside the puzzle. He took command, his mind already turning over their immediate concerns as they continued on to Lambeth Palace.

“We’ll need to be careful about how we proceed.” Ewan’s gaze moved between Hughes and Juliet. “We must time our marriage announcement perfectly and arrange to settle your debts.”

“Ewan, even if we keep our marriage secret, my mother will question the sudden clearing of our debts.” Juliet didn’t hide the distress in her words. “She’ll suspect something is amiss.”

Ewan nodded. “It’s a delicate situation. We’ll tell her an anonymous benefactor has come forward, moved by your family’s situation.”

A flicker of alarm crossed Juliet’s features, her eyes widening at the realization. “But that would imply I’m engaged to a stranger. She’ll never consent to such an arrangement without meeting the man first.”

“We can assist you with that,” Duncan interjected, his voice steady. “Hughes and I can corroborate the story. We’ll say the benefactor is a reclusive nobleman who values his privacy above all else.”

Hughes folded his arms, his mind working through the legalities. “We can draft a document, a settlement of sorts, detailing the arrangement. It will lend credibility to our tale as well as explain the financial commitment.”

“And what of the benefactor’s identity?” She pressed, seeking holes in their plan.

“We’ll be vague,” Ewan assured her. “We’ll say he’s a distant relation, perhaps from abroad, who wishes to remain unnamed.”

He could see her processing the plan. Her contemplative silence spoke volumes. “And when the time comes for this benefactor to appear?” Ewan understood the importance of that question, knowing the answer would require all their cunning.

“We’ll have eliminated the threat by then,” Ewan said with conviction. “And we can reveal the truth—that I am your benefactor and your husband.”

Juliet glanced at Duncan and then at Ewan. “We could say the benefactor is a Scotsman?”

Ewan considered Juliet’s suggestion, the idea fitting seamlessly into their story. “That could work,” he agreed, his excitement growing. “A distant cousin of my family, currently residing in Scotland. It’s plausible and close enough to be believable.”

Juliet nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “And it explains your involvement without raising too many questions.”

Duncan spoke up. His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Ach, no, Ewan, not a distant cousin, the Viscount of Ardoch. I’ll vouch for the scoundrel Scottish viscount. After all, who better to confirm his existence than another Scot?”

Juliet’s gaze flitted between Duncan and Glenraven. “We cannot use someone’s name without asking him. Surely, you understand why.”

“Viscount Ardoch, it is,” Glenraven announced. He leaned over to Juliet. “I am the Viscount Ardoch. It is one of my lesser Scottish titles. Few know of it. Using that title, you’d be telling your parents the truth.”

A laugh escaped Juliet. “Brilliant and genuine. It is a clever plan.”

“I’ll draft a document to formalize the arrangement.” Hughes glanced at Glenraven and Juliet. “It will state all the terms, of course, and that the benefactor wishes to remain anonymous for personal reasons but is fully committed to supporting Miss Hayward.”

“What shall we tell my mother when she inquires about the plans with my Scottish benefactor? A wedding date? She and Father may be in Scotland now, but they will return.” Her voice carried a hint of mischief. “What should I tell her?”

The suggestion caught Glenraven, Hughes, and Duncan unaware. Their shared look betrayed a momentary lapse. The thought had never crossed their mind. It was evident that such particulars had not escaped Juliet’s keen foresight. While their plan was painted with broad strokes, Juliet had meticulously attended to the finer details that would complete the picture and turn it into a masterpiece.

From the corner of his eye, Glenraven caught Juliet’s almost imperceptible smile. She inhaled deeply, poised with a suggestion. “Perhaps I could tell her he wishes for the wedding to be soon, within the next four weeks, May 17th? That is when she and Father planned to return to London.” she proposed. “We can also mention that he’s a man of solitude, preferring a ceremony that reflects his private nature. He values discretion above all in these matters.” Her eyes sought theirs, silently questioning their consensus. “Would this meet with your plans?”

Ewan felt a surge of admiration for Juliet’s initiative. “That’s a prudent course. It will give your mother peace of mind while preserving the secrecy vital to us.” His voice carried a newfound respect, the admiration clear as he witnessed Juliet’s deft handling of the delicate issue. It was an enlightening moment for him, one that not only provoked pride but also deepened his respect… and desire. He saw she possessed all the qualities necessary to stand by his side, whether as his Viscountess, Marchioness, or the Duchess of Aurington.

“One last item. How did this benefactor propose this solution? Was it a chance meeting in Hyde Park?” Juliet’s eyes were wide with a guileless curiosity, a stark contrast to the sharp mind behind her question.

Ewan reclined into the coach seat. He couldn’t suppress a chuckle. His betrothed was indeed a woman of subtly, wit, and wisdom.

“With my mother away, a letter from Aunt Geraldine about the Viscount and his petition might do the trick,” she mused. “A message from someone Mother trusts and holds dear would surely ease her mind.”

Straightening, Ewan’s eyes shone with genuine esteem. “Your ingenuity amazes me.” He looked to his companions, their affirming smiles and nods solidifying their collective decision.

Juliet gently placed her hand on Glenraven’s arm, an unspoken understanding passing between them. “It appears we have a plan, my lord.”

“Yes.” Glenraven’s tone was soft and sincere. “A delicate web of half-truths designed to protect you and keep our secret safe.”

As the carriage approached Lambeth Palace, Juliet’s gaze was drawn to the imposing Tudor gatehouse, its red-brick facade, and ornate Tudor arches a vivid indication of its past. The carriage passed beneath the gate’s shadow, drawing up to the grand steps that led to the towering door, an entryway that promised both welcome and majesty.

Glenraven’s pulse quickened as they stepped into the Archbishop’s office, each man silently bearing the urgency of their mission, yet the unexpected warmth in His Grace’s eyes as he greeted him provided a reassuring counterpoint. Ewan felt a quiet strength settle over him as he crossed the room, ready to put their plan into action.

“Lord Glenraven, I’ve been expecting you as your birthday draws near,” the Archbishop greeted, his voice a gentle rumble.

“Yes, it does, Your Excellency. How kind of you to remember.” Ewan smiled, remembering the archbishop joining him and his family for dinner before he left for France on the eve of his nineteenth birthday.

“I suppose this is not an invitation to a dinner celebration.” His Excellency did enjoy banter… and teasing.

“No, sir, not to dinner but a wedding, with your assistance.”

The Archbishop’s eyes widened for a heartbeat or two before he nodded. “Continue.”

Ewan cleared his throat, steadying himself. “Your Excellency, I come before you to request a special license for marriage.” His words were carefully thought out and deliberate.

“Ah,” the Archbishop turned to Juliet. “It took your intended time to decide. Will it be a grand affair?”

Ewan shook his head. “For reasons most grave, I must ask that this union remains confidential.”

The Archbishop looked over Glenraven and then at Juliet. “There are several reasons that can be grave…”

“Begging your pardon, Your Excellency.” Everyone turned to Juliet, who stood with her hands clasped respectfully in front of her. “Our reasons are like none you have heard before.”

“You’ve come with no one to vouch for you. What am I to think?”

Juliet continued, her demeanor composed. “I stand before you on my own behalf. At twenty-three, my conduct has been such that it would withstand the scrutiny of the highest circles.” Her gaze was steady, her voice unwavering. “I assure you, there is no cause for scandal or concern that would bring dishonor to our names.”

The Archbishop paused, nodded, and made a note on the document in front of him: “Very well, Miss Hayward. Your self-sponsorship is noted. Yet, I require further details.” His gaze shifted to Glenraven: “Pray tell me, what are these reasons that are most grave?”

Glenraven’s hand hovered over the letter, the entire endeavor resting on the Archbishop’s decision. Disclosing the threat to his family was a last resort. “We have reason to believe my father’s recent misfortune was no mere accident.” With a firm hand, he passed the parchment to His Grace.

The Archbishop read it quickly and turned to Juliet with a troubled glance. “Are you fully aware of the danger this union brings?”

Juliet’s gaze was unwavering, her decision etched in her features. “Yes, Your Excellency. I’ve received my own share of ominous threats.” Glenraven couldn’t be prouder of her. Her voice was steady despite the undercurrent of fear. “It appears Lord Glenraven and I are both targets of this person.”

“How did you arrive at that conclusion?”

Ewan and Juliet, visibly tense, laid out the evidence before the archbishop. Letters, notes, and cards were spread across the desk, each containing threats and warnings.

Ewan pointed to a particularly chilling note. “This was found among my father’s belongings after his accident. It warns of dire consequences if I continue my investigations.”

Juliet nodded, holding up the Ace of Hearts. “And this card was found with my brother when he died under mysterious circumstances. It seems to be a signature or calling card of sorts.”

The Archbishop evaluated their situation. He glanced once again at the threatening letter and other documents and items.

“Your circumstances are as you say, I concede, but…” His voice trailed off, leaving the sentence hanging.

“Your Excellency,” Juliet stepped forward. “Did I mention why I want to marry Lord Glenraven?”

A nod came, indicating he already knew the reason. “To shield yourself from this threat?”

“While many seek to marry for such reasons, mine lie elsewhere.” Her response was gentle yet firm.

All attention returned to Juliet.

“Fate brought me to a puppet theater, where I, as Judy, found myself in a twist of drama only to be saved by a gallant Punch, played by Lord Glenraven.” Her eyes met Glenraven’s, a shared memory sparking a soft smile between them. “And just as fate had scripted for our puppets, it guided me to my true hero, my destined partner.” She turned back to the Archbishop, her expression earnest. “That, Your Excellency, is the heart of why I accepted Lord Glenraven’s proposal. Lord Glenraven is my heart’s desire.”

Glenraven waited as understanding dawned on the Archbishop’s features, his concern deepening. “Then we shall be discreet in our proceedings. Your courage is to be commended, and the church will offer its sanctuary,” he declared. The Archbishop’s gaze lingered on Juliet, clearly moved by her sincerity. “Is tomorrow too soon for the ceremony?” he proposed, a hint of compassion emerging amidst his stately manner. “I leave London tomorrow in the early afternoon. If you need secrecy, come at ten, and I shall be honored to marry you in my private chapel. When you’re able to reveal your marriage, few will argue about the ceremony.” Glenraven clasped Juliet’s hand as a silent message passed between them. Words were unnecessary, given the Archbishop’s understanding and promise of protection. A ripple of excitement passed through the room, and with a flourish of his quill, the Archbishop signed the paperwork, sealing their fate with the church’s blessing.

“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” The Archbishop’s eyes twinkled with a delight he could scarcely conceal.

“Not at all, Your Excellency,” Ewan replied with conviction. Juliet’s grip on his hand tightened in silent affirmation.

“Good. Congratulations,” the archbishop handed Juliet the license. “Now, if you will excuse me.” He crossed the room with the air of having done a great deed.

Glenraven, still holding her hand, found his voice. “Your Excellency, we are profoundly grateful. We are indebted to your kindness and discretion.”

The Archbishop paused at the threshold, turning back with a reflective gaze. “Don’t thank me,” he said, his voice carrying a note of respect. “It is Miss Hayward’s eloquence and conviction that swayed me. I could find no fault in her argument. I look forward to seeing you both tomorrow at ten.” With a final nod, he stepped out the door.