Her heart, once caught in a tempest of hope and despair, now steadied itself firmly on hope. There was no choice but to leap. A future with Ewan, where love could blossom from the ruins, was a risk she was willing to take.
After breakfast, Juliet excused herself, feeling the dining room walls closing in with every word her mother spoke. She needed a place to think and to breathe, so she headed to her room.
She slid open her dressing table drawer. There it was—the ace of hearts, lying innocently among Bradley’s effects along with various trinkets and baubles. It was as if the card was waiting for her, a silent ally in her time of need.
She couldn’t help but think of Ewan, his declaration of love, and the possibility that she might lose him to circumstances she could not control. The card, a symbol of love and emotion, now represented a chance to clear her brother’s name, save her family from ruin, and perhaps secure a future with the man who had captured her heart.
The shadow challenge Ewan had spoken of, with its elusive prize, suddenly seemed like the answer for which she had been searching. If there was indeed a prize to be won, it was the key to their salvation. The money would pay off all of Bradley’s gambling debts, freeing her family from ruin. Her tenacity hardened. She would not wait for fate to decide her path. She would take this card to Ewan, and together, they would uncover its secrets.
Her reflection in the mirror now showed a woman of action, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. With the ace of hearts in hand, Juliet felt a renewed sense of hope. This was more than a card. It was a promise of possibility, and she was ready to seize it.
The voices outside Juliet’s chamber grew louder, Aunt Geraldine’s voice unmistakable as it competed with her mother’s. The door opened, and the two women entered, their expressions indicative of their concern and tenacity.
“What marquessate is this man set to inherit, exactly?” Aunt Geraldine’s voice cut through the tension, her eyes sharp with skepticism. “And what if his expectations are misplaced?”
Juliet’s mother, her usual composure shaken, faltered for a moment. “He is of good stock, and his intentions are… honorable,” she insisted, though her voice lacked conviction.
Aunt Geraldine turned to Juliet, her gaze conveying a silent message of caution. “We must be vigilant, Juliet. This suitor, whom you have not yet met, may have designs beyond a simple marriage proposal.”
The room seemed to close in on Juliet as she considered the implications. To be promised to a man she did not know, a man who might seek to control her fate, was a prospect that left her feeling uneasy and uncertain.
A soft knock interrupted their conversation, and Mrs. Murthy peeked her head through the door, her expression apologetic. “Begging your pardon, Lady Fairmont, but there’s been a bit of a mishap in the kitchen, and your guidance is needed.”
Juliet’s mother sighed, a frown creasing her brow. “Very well, I shall attend to it.” She rose from her seat with a resigned air. “I’m leaving for Scotland this afternoon. Aunt Geraldine has reminded me that the issue of your marriage is too important and must be discussed with him directly. Your aunt will take myplace and stay here until your father and I return.” She exited the room with a swish of her skirt.
Once her mother closed the door behind her, Aunt Geraldine’s manner shifted from concern to a glimmer of hope. “We need a plan, and it must be one that ensures your happiness. I have it on good authority that Lord Glenraven was quite the gallant gentleman yesterday when he called.”
Juliet responded with a nod, her mind already racing with the implications of Ewan’s intentions. “I must speak with him. He planned to speak to Father. Ewan should be aware of what mother has done.”
“Indeed.” A smile broke through Aunt Geraldine’s earlier apprehension. “And we’ll seek Mrs. Murthy’s assistance. Her discreet ways could prove invaluable now.” Her aunt tugged on the bell pull.
Moments later, Mrs. Murthy entered, a questioning look on her face.
“Mrs. Murthy,” Aunt Geraldine began, “Do you know any of the staff at Lord Glenraven’s home?”
“I do, my lady,” Mrs. Murthy replied.
“Duncan, his lordship’s batman, is a fine Scotsman and the son of Baron Blair. He is loyal to his lordship. I understand he and Lord Glenraven grew up together at his lordship’s home near Sommer-by-the-Sea and the River Tweed.” Mrs. Murthy stopped, a blush painting her cheeks. She continued, her voice filled with pride and a touch of mischief. “Duncan and I struck up a conversation at the market. He has a secret passion, you see. He’s quite the connoisseur of rare books, always looking for hidden gems.”
Aunt Geraldine’s eyes sparkled with intrigue. “Books, you say? How fascinating. And does Duncan know of the… situation here?”
Mrs. Murthy nodded, her keen eyes reflecting a shrewd understanding. “He inquired when Baron Fairmont is expected to return. His lordship requires an important meeting. He’s not one to stand idly by. If there’s another suitor in the picture, Duncan would want his lordship to know, to… hasten his decision.”
Juliet felt a surge of gratitude for Mrs. Murthy’s perceptiveness. “Could you, perhaps, mention this to Duncan?” she asked, her voice hopeful. “Without revealing too much, of course.”
“Leave it to me, my lady,” Mrs. Murthy assured her with a confident nod. “A word here, a hint there, and Duncan will understand. He’ll ensure Lord Glenraven receives the information.”
As Mrs. Murthy excused herself, Juliet turned to her aunt. “We must act quickly. Before Mother does something that will seal my fate.”
Aunt Geraldine placed a reassuring hand on Juliet’s shoulder. “We will, my dear. We will.” Her gaze was a silent vow.
Chapter Fifteen
That evening, Glenravenpaused at the wrought iron gates. The address he’d been given etched in elegant script on the card in his hand led him to this secluded place on St. James Place. The once majestic home, now cloaked in the shadows of the evening, loomed with an air of silent stories and faded glory. Its stone facade, etched by time, whispered of a nobility long past. Above, the distinct silhouette of the turret cut a stark figure against the twilight sky.
He stepped through the gates and walked up the stone path to the heavy oak door, which swung open before he could knock. The entryway was a cavernous space, the grandeur of its high ceilings and sweeping staircase evidence of its former glory. A dimly lit chandelier cast shadows that danced across the portraits of stern ancestors that lined the walls.
The modest octagonal turret room was perfect for this evening’s entertainment. It was elegantly appointed, with high ceilings and mirrored sconces on each of the eight walls. The grand turret, in its roundish form, rose above the room and added an architectural touch. The space was rich with the scent of polished wood and tobacco. The wood panel walls bore witness to countless games of chance. A round mahogany table dominated the center of the room, where men of varying degrees of wealth and desperation waited to begin. Their faces were etched with concentration, their eyes flickering with greed, or was that fear?
