by Anna Macy
Juliet let her head fall in a small nod of appreciation, unable to force any words past her lips. First, the news that her stepfather was discussing her scandalous mistake with suitors, he found advantageous, and now, with news of how her father had died while attempting to get home to see his family. It was just too much.
Standing up, Juliet turned and quickly leaned forward to give the Duke a soft kiss on his wrinkled cheek. He was an honorable man, and he had always been so. If her father had associated with the Duke, it only deepened Juliet’s belief that her father, too, had been a great man.
And every story she heard, every scene she pictured, helped to fill in those gaps that she wished so desperately she had been able to live through. Hearing them from the lips of his friends, though, was a second-best option.
It must have been close to midnight, but the party was still in full swing. Juliet wound her way across the room and through the crowd, murmuring apologies and greetings as she found her way upstairs. Amelia was waiting, and one look at her mistress, and she remained silent, helping to peel the layers off of her slim body.
With not a word said, Juliet, let her hair down, fingering the beautiful floral hairpiece one more time before setting it down on her bedside table. The tiny flowers were wilting, and Juliet sympathized. She was asleep before Amelia blew out the last candle.
***
The next morning Juliet woke up late, and on top of that, she didn’t feel much like going for a ride today knowing that William had gone. It was a grey, overcast day, which many household members seemed grateful for as they poured themselves out of bed at long last. Many begging forgiveness for assorted headaches and stomachaches from a long party the night before.
By midday, Juliet listened to Marian, Nicholas, and even Robert rave over the night’s activities, laughing at elements and reliving the best parts. She had nodded along to the stories, truly glad her friends had had such a lovely time.
She hadn't had time to tell Marian about the possibility behind Lord Faber’s veiled statement or Williams' untimely departure yet, but that could wait. For now, they were enjoying the good moments.
At one point in the conversation, a young staff member appeared at Juliet’s elbow, handing her a tray with a folded letter upon it. Taking it, she raised an eyebrow at the fact that each of her friends had immediately gone silent, staring at her, waiting with her for whatever this news was. Wetting her lips, Juliet slowly slid the letter open to see a brief note in long, swirling cursive letters.
She read it once, paused, and scrunched her brow before rereading it. Then looking up at her friends, she grinned. Juliet tossed the letter at Marian, who deftly caught it and looked up at Juliet as she stood.
“Where are you going?” Marian shouted as her friend walked away. Both Robert and Nicholas cursed her, covering their ears with a groan.
“I’ve got an invitation I cannot refuse,” Juliet shouted back at them over her shoulder as she headed off the side of the manor to the stables. There, waiting in full uniform, for the first time since she had met him, was Edmund.
Juliet gave a quick curtsy, acknowledging his formal attire, and in return, Edmund gave a deep bow. Then gesturing behind himself at the darkened barn aisle, Edmund smiled at the young woman. Standing there in the shadows stood Sterling, the gorgeous grey stallion with who she had bonded so thoroughly with.
Walking straight to him, Juliet took his heavy head in her arms, letting him press against her chest. Dropping her head atop his, she breathed in the stud’s warmth and sweet hay-smelling scent. The first genuine smile of the day pulling at her lips.
Edmund was grinning now, looking between Juliet and the red-headed youth who always seemed to be down at the stables. Juliet didn’t even realize she was crying until she pulled back from the horse's embrace and dropped a kiss on the swirling hair of his forehead.
“Thank you, Edmund, I’m sure you had a part in this,” Juliet choked out, trying to blot at her tears in the most ladylike fashion one could while they held the reins of a horse in one hand.
Edmund tilted his head, holding up his two fingers and measuring out the sign for a small amount. Juliet laughed. So just a little bit of help. It was William she needed to thank. She couldn’t wait to see him and do exactly that. A terrifying yet wonderful emotion bloomed in her chest. One she had never dared dream about.
“Do you think you can keep a secret?” Juliet said to Edmund, who immediately bowed his head and nodding enthusiastically.
“Of course, my lady,” he said.
She leaned into Sterling's shoulder and held up a delicately booted foot. Edmund only took a second to read the situation before he bounded forward and expertly vaulted her onto the horses’ broad back. Juliet found her seat on Sterling’s broad back quickly, situating her skirts out behind her as she reached around to grip the two sides of the reins.
Turning the stallion towards the lush green garden, Juliet looked down at Edmund, who seemed positively tiny from this view, and she winked. To her joy and amusement, the stable manager winked back and then slapped Sterling’s powerful hind end, sending him off into a smooth, balanced canter.
Juliet’s laughter as her dress blew back behind her, its soft blue texture blending perfectly with the deep silver dapples of his coat as they crossed the backyard of the manor.
Above her, on the balcony, Marian leaned over, watching her friend canter happily across the yard and into the softly waving fields that would take her to the intricate riding paths beyond.
She smiled, so glad that her friend was finding this happiness, this joy. Marian looked down at the letter still in her hand, and a smile took over her expression, even as tears blurred the writing.
My dear Juliet,
You were right. We do choose our family, and Sterling has chosen you. Please understand that I will be checking on his health and well-being at Greystone in the near future.
I cannot wait to see you again.
Yours truly,
William
Marian held the letter to her chest. The level of understanding and love in those words were enough to make even her believe in second chances and in love.
She couldn’t wait to watch the rest of her closest friends' love story unfold before them. Tears burned at the backs of her eyes, and Marian hurriedly wiped them away. Marian wondered if either William or Juliet knew how badly they needed each other.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Several days later, Juliet stood in front of Lakeview, looking up at the vast manor, it’s beautiful stone exterior glowing in the early morning sunlight, the heavy paned windows reflecting the warmth and brightness of what felt like a very dark day. Juliet sighed, squeezing Marian’s hands one last time before turning to her carriage.
They had said goodbye a hundred times now, each attempt worse than the rest. Even Lady Catherine had made a rare appearance early in the morning, looked a little teary as she said her goodbyes. Juliet took one last look at the place she had only called home a short time but had fallen deeply in love with.
Or perhaps it was that she had fallen in love here, which is why it made leaving all the more challenging.
Robert approached, his footsteps quiet in the dewy grass as he gently raised her into Greystone’s black and green carriage. Seeing her family’s silver crest blazing on the side of the doors only saddened her further. Greystone may be her destination and the home of her family, but her family was here, behind her, in Lakeview. Or at least, almost all of them. There was still one exceptional man missing.
Robert didn’t release her hand, so she turned to him, her deep navy traveling dress filling up the small space in the carriage. “I hope we part as friends, Lady Juliet,” he said, his blue eyes hopeful as he observed her.
Smiling broadly, Juliet gave him the only answer she could think of, “There’s nothing I would like more.”
Robert turned as if to leave but changed his mind. Quickly pulling her hand a little, he forced her to lean forward towards
his face. Her heart leaped in surprise, but the man only leaned to one side by her ear, where he laughed for a moment.
“He will come for you,” Robert whispered, his voice gentle as a summer breeze against her neck. Leaning back, he dropped her hand and nodded to her as he closed the carriage door. Juliet returned his nod, her lips tight as she valiantly tried to act like she was as sure as he was. William had ridden out the night of the ball, and no one, not even Lady Catherine, had received word from him yet.
“Off you go,” Robert called to the drivers, and in a moment, Juliet was off, craning her head to watch as her friends disappeared as she was carried down the long driveway and out into the English countryside.
The grasses around her glowed a burnished gold, and the trees above were turning the color of scarlet and bronze. Fall was here, and while the parties were waning and events would be more spread out, she had such high hopes that this winter would be better than any before it.
Leaning her head back against the pillowed carriage walls, Juliet closed her eyes and tried to plan her return to Lakeview, or perhaps she could visit the Wains family home for the holidays. After the past week, she was sure that it would be better than any time spent glaring across the table at her stepfather or her mother. They also left early the morning after the ball, and without a word to her or Amelia.
While it was nothing new, something stung especially hard at this exit. Perhaps it was because she now knew that her stepfather had outed her to the rest of the peerage. While at one point, she had hoped that her midnight venture might spark a prompt marriage, she also had been empowered by the act of making her own life decisions. With William gone, and her stepfather already speaking to other possible matches, Juliet felt more out of control than ever.
Luckily, she knew that her parents would only be at Greystone with her for a few weeks. Marshall preferred the bustle of city life with its access to the clubs and gambling that he loved so dearly.
Juliet would remain behind at Greystone estate; she had already decided. As much as she loved the theater and seeing the city lit up for the holiday season, it would not be worth the emotional destruction that spending more time with Marshall and her mother inflicted upon her heart.
Her chest ached sharply, not just as the idea of the holidays alone, but suddenly the act of leaving her friends reminded her of the void she often felt. The one that she attempted to fill with books and letters. But in the end, she knew that she was alone, and she hated it. A single tear slid down her face, which she ignored, enjoying the hot path it wove down her face.
Suddenly a loud and piercing whinny broke her sorrowful thoughts, surprising a small laugh out of her as she leaned back out through the window.
If she stretched her arm, she could just barely stroke the silken nose of Sterling, who was gamely trotting behind the carriage, his sharp black lined ears twitching back and forth as he took in their surroundings.
“Shhhhh,” Juliet murmured, “I guess I’m not as alone as I thought.” The idea comforted her, not just in the horse himself, but in the belief that William had promised he would come to check on him. Or really, on her.
Maybe she had only known him for a week, but Juliet was sure that William was not a man who broke his promises. When she leaned back to her seat, a smile pulled at her lips, and his promise pulled at her heart.
***
William was not a patient man. He already felt like he had been in the deary, frostbitten city of London for too long. But that night at Nick’s ball, he had had a bit of an epiphany, especially hearing that it was Lord Henry Faber who Marshall Pinecrest wanted to pursue as a match for Juliet.
The minute he had seen Juliet pale and grow quiet in the older man’s arms, he had known something was wrong. It had brought him an inexplicable joy to sweep her away from him and out into the fresh air.
He told himself that he had done it to help her from fainting, but he had spent the entirety of the night snarling at every man who even dared look at her. She had been a goddess wrapped in bright gold, dark swirling hair, and features exotic against the glistening satin. He hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of her.
At the first chance, he had jumped to whisk her away to where she would only be his. Even though hearing about her conniving stepfather had angered him, he had to admit that having her in his arms, for any reason, had given him life these last few days of traveling.
Adjusting his trousers impatiently, he grew frustrated in the stiff, high backed chair he had been seated in. He had been waiting for almost an hour if his pocket watch was to be trusted. William had come to the Blue Fiver society club in the heart of London to meet with one of its elusive owners, a Mr. Bohart.
William’s people had done as much digging as they could into Juliet’s stepfather and Lord Faber. After turning up only minute details, William had shifted his mind to finding someone who would know more.
William knew that Montgomery Bohart was the current operating owner of the Blue Fiver and that he prided himself on keeping an elite, exclusive establishment. Moreso than anyone William could think of, Bohart had the force and influence to maintain the high level of standards that the club had been founded upon.
Only the most powerful gentlemen were members here. New guests were allowed in only on a trial basis and only through a direct invitation of a good standing member. His source had conveyed to William that the club catered exclusively to the highbrow society of London year around. William had always assumed his father had been a member but hadn’t pursued it since his passing.
William also knew that Marshall Pinecrest, Juliet’s sour-faced stepfather, was a well-known patron of the club, both for entertainment and gambling accessibility. William needed to gain an advantage on the cruel man, and he was ready to go as far as necessary to make that happen
The door slammed open, and William flew to his feet, swallowing a curse of surprise and straightening his overcoat as he went. Dressed in a fashionably dark suit, the man who charged into the room aimlessly wove his hands through dark auburn curls.
William couldn’t tell if the action meant to tame them or enflame them, but regardless the hair framed his face in a wild, almost savage way. A petite man with silver hair and an impressive mustache followed quietly behind, his arms filled with a collection of books and papers, which he dumped unceremoniously onto the desk between William and the redhead.
“Mr. Bohart, I assume,” William began, extending a hand to the man across his vast wooden desk. The man didn't move. Not even an eyebrow twitched as he stared down the Marquess.
“You assume correctly,” Bohart said, a gravelly voice giving no hint to his actual emotion, “And I can assume that you are the man who has been harassing my staff for a meeting,” he emphasized the last words as if they were particularly offensive.
William frowned, dropping his hand to his side as the other man placed both hands on the desk, leaning towards him, a dark glint in his deep navy eyes.
For a moment, William felt his hackles rise. This man was the definition of intimidating; his perfectly tailored suit stretched tight over what seemed like unnaturally broad human shoulders.
But it was his face, which would probably be considered attractive to some, that gave William pause. There were several scars, one crossing an eyebrow, the other the edge of his jaw. And there was the matter of the dark airs that seemed to swirl around the man as if he himself was draped in shadow.
William knew Bohart was looking to intimidate him, but something was appealing about his demeanor in all truth. A sort of brutish charm.
The man seemed unconvinced to sit and discuss the matter, but after the silence filled every inch of the room, he finally dropped his mass into his desk chair and leaned back, folding his hands over his lap. Two could play this game, William thought, a thin smile on his face. William sat loudly with a sigh, crossing his leg over one knee and looking up expectantly at Bohart.
“I’m inquiring about one of your patrons, Mr. Bohart,
” William began, his voice polite, practically disinterested.
“Then I’m afraid that is the end of our meeting, Lord William,” Mr. Bohart said, as he drummed his long fingers against a flat belly, his eyes still sparking at the intrusion into his private office.
“You mistake me, Mr. Bohart, with someone who will leave here without what I want,” William ground out. Mr. Bohart’s face twitched a little, in enjoyment or anger, William couldn’t tell. The club owner’s eyes slowly crawled over William. Even in his most casual clothing, William was sure he looked every inch the peer that he was.
“And what precisely is it that you want to know?” Bohart said, his deep voice less aggressive now. William had weighed his conversation carefully on his ride into town. The club owner must profit from Marshall and his friend’s extensive use of the gambling tables, and William was no idiot. He knew far better than to put himself between this man and his money. William decided to share the idea that he had been mulling over since Juliet uttered Lord Faber’s name.