Page 6 of A Marriage for the Marquess (Barrington’s Brigade #1)

A bout a mile and a half south of Cavendish Square in Belgravia, Glenraven sat in his drawing room with Duncan.

“It was a shock to find out about my father’s accident. I’m sure it was the same for you.” Glenraven sat in a high back chair, his mind still clouded with a haze of disbelief, staring at the half-full glass of whiskey in his hand.

“Aye. I spoke to Pearson. He told me everything. Did Lord Barrington mention the tampering?”

Glenraven’s gaze remained fixed on his glass, the amber liquid reflecting the sunlight that filtered through the window. However, Duncan’s mention of tampering sent a jolt through him, quickening his pulse as if he had sprinted around Hyde Park. Without lifting his head, his eyes shifted to Duncan, a silent question in their depths. “Tampering?” he echoed, the word heavy with sudden dread.

“I thought not. It is a lot to take in at one time.” Sitting forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped, Duncan gave Glenraven a sobering stare. “Pearson checked the carriage before they left Luton. There were markings on the underside, where the wood had split, which raised his concern.”

“What kind of markings?”

“The axles had been partially sawed through. The cuts were artfully concealed by the shadows of the wheel well. He also checked the Harmony Bridge and found the planks were compromised. Unnatural fractures and strategically placed cuts were found that would be invisible at a glance but catastrophic under the weight of a passing carriage.”

“That’s why Father is staying with Barrington.” Glenraven rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. “He tried to uncover a fraudulent card game by himself. Barrington didn’t know about it until it was too late.”

“There is more. Your cousin Sebastian has been to see her ladyship, giving her support in these dark hours with His Grace gravely ill, and you, well, no one knew where you were. Sebastian and Fletcher—”

“Robert Fletcher? Father’s steward?”

“The same. They have been together in the estate office a great deal. Mr. Flemings, your father’s butler, spoke to me in confidence. He reminded Fletcher that the estate office was not for receiving guests. Fletcher told him that with your father gravely ill and you absent, Sebastian, who isn’t a stranger but your third cousin, was eager to help. Fletcher told him that Sebastian has been a comfort to your mother.”

“You remember Sebastian when we were growing up. He always wanted to help.” Glenraven stood and glanced out the window. The afternoon was bright, with the wind sweeping along in gusts. He glanced across Belgravia Square and chuckled.

“Did you say something?” Duncan asked.

“No, no.” Glenraven waved away the question. “I was looking at the people sitting in the square. Earlier, I sat by a puppet theater and ate a meat pie before I went to Barrington’s. The puppet master conscripted me as if I were a foreign sailor. He needed a Punch.” He turned and faced his friend.

“You?” Duncan looked appalled.

“Why are you so surprised? I was quite convincing. So was Judy.”

“A puppet? The trip from Paris was worse on you than I thought.”

“Don’t be silly. The puppet master conscripted a young lady to play Judy. We were quite a team.” Glenraven returned to the window, he gazed at nothing with a rapturous smile. “Quite a team, indeed.”

“What are you going to tell your cousin?”

His wistful notion burst as quickly as a soap bubble meeting the hard edge of reality. “I will tell Sebastian that I’ve returned home to take on my duties. And I’ll thank him for all he’s done.” Glenraven returned to his chair. “I’ll need my evening wear tonight.” He took out the invitation to Lady Gladstone’s event.

Duncan glanced towards the door as a footman entered, carrying a garment bag. “Luckily, Flemings just had a footman bring up your freshened clothes.”

Glenraven’s attention, however, was elsewhere. “The urgency from Hughes was due to a triviality within my trust’s terms,” he said, his voice betraying a touch of irony. “To be succinct, I must marry by my thirtieth year.”

Duncan’s grip on the garment bag faltered, the bag swaying perilously for a moment before he steadied it. The significance of the news seemed to momentarily unbalance more than just the bag in his hands.

“Barrington will be introducing me to a flock of beauties.” He glanced at Duncan, who was still staring at him. “Close our mouth, man. You look as bad as I feel.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I knew about the conditions and conveniently forgot about them. What’s more concerning is that Hughes mentioned he’s been trying to reach me for the last six months. You didn’t see any correspondence from him, did you?”

Duncan’s face paled, confusion and concern etching his features. “Not a single letter from Hughes. It’s most peculiar. The post has always been reliable.”

“Hughes said he gave the letters to Fletcher to put into the weekly pouch he sent us.” Glenraven glanced at Duncan. “What is that in your hand?”

Duncan paused, a seriousness taking over his expression as he extended a packet towards Glenraven. “When I opened the safe to store your documents, I found this.”

Glenraven’s gaze shifted from Duncan to the packet. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized the familiar scrawl of his father’s handwriting. The significance of the find was not lost on him. It was rare for his father to pen letters personally. With a steadying breath, he reached out to take the message, his family’s crest embossed in wax. He carefully broke the seal and opened the document.

“Let no one see this. Burn it if you must. If you are reading this, I have not succeeded in protecting you and your inheritance. You must NEVER let what we’ve built fall into the viper’s hands. Forgive me, but you must marry before your thirtieth birthday or lose everything to your distant cousin. You must secure the title.”

An Ace of Hearts fell from the envelope. His father had an odd habit of leaving cryptic messages or symbols in unexpected places. He recalled a particular instance when he found the playing card, the “ace of hearts,” hidden in his father’s study. It led to a week-long adventure.

Duncan retrieved the card and handed it to Glenraven, who turned it over. The back showed a picture of winding vines with thorns.

“A shadow quest?” Duncan asked, staring at the back of the card.

“That’s what Father called it—a treasure hunt. Father had one next to his bed at Barrington’s.” He turned the card over. It had the same strange marking. “We need to find the other two matching cards.”

*

While she prepared for the evening, Juliet stared into the cheval glass and saw a desperate woman. The situation was far past blaming her brother, although he earned that burden. But that wouldn’t help now. Her father was doing all he could. He had already spoken to those he trusted in London. They helped, but more was needed. Going to the family in Edinburgh was a final effort.

It was time for her to step up and do what no one else could. No matter what her aunt promised, it was more than likely that hers would not be a love match. That was a childish dream or something found in stories by Miss Austen. She let out a heavy sigh. It’s not easy letting go of dreams.

“When the storm clouds gather, and the world around us seems uncertain. We’ll find shelter in each other’s arms, and our hearts will be our fortress. But, Judy, my love, there’s one thing you must know. Our journey won’t always be easy.”

“No, my dear Punch. My journey will not be easy. It’s even more difficult facing it alone.”

Still gazing into the glass, she shook her shoulders as if that would rid her of the melancholy. That won’t do looking for a husband.

She went to her dressing table and glanced inside the box that contained all the items Bradley had with him when they found him in the garden: one cufflink, four pounds ten shillings, and a single playing card, an Ace of Hearts.