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 calledout 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.
