With a deep breath, Juliet reached into her reticule and withdrew a worn playing card—the ace of hearts. “My brother had it when he…” Her voice was steady, but her hands betrayed a slight tremor. “…when he died. I can’t help but wonder if there’s a connection.”
Chapter Seventeen
Glenraven held theworn 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.”
