His eyes darted to the flowers lying beside her shovel. “Lilies.” He pronounced.
Juliet nodded. “My mother used to say lilies are never too much for a fresh garden. They represented change—or rebirth, whichever was more appropriate.”
Juliet felt her heart pound thunderously. Why was Weston talking to her? Had she done something? Did he have bad news to deliver, and this was his way of cushioning the blow?
“Good thinking not showing up at breakfast this morning.” Weston said, his voice cutting through her thoughts.
Juliet opened her mouth to speak but froze halfway. She had felt a slight wetness on her forehead. It was the first drop of rain.
“I didn't want to do anything to offend Mother this morning, so I just thought I would stay in.”
“I'm glad you did.” Weston replied. He would've done the same if given the opportunity.
Silence. They stood looking at each other, unsure of what to say, waiting for the other to speak. The silence wasn't the tense one she had become accustomed to. It was a comfortable one. The kind they could both drift in—the kind they both needed.
Nature, deciding to act as the icebreaker, jumped into action. The slight raindrops slowly turned into mild drizzles. Juliet looked up at the darkened sky.
“We better get inside.” She said.
Weston scoffed. The last place he wanted to be was in the manor. He would instead let the rain beat him than breathe thesame air as his mother. Before he could work all of that into a sentence, thunder cracked across the sky, turning it loose. Then the rain started to fall in torrents.
“I have a better idea.” Weston finally said. He stretched out his hand and waited.
“But we will have to run. Can you do that?” He asked.
Juliet slipped her hand in his. “Yes.”
“Then we run.” Weston said.
He tugged on her arm, and they took off. Harsh droplets of rain hit them in every area as they scampered across the windy fields. Juliet felt a chill, other than the one from the weather, running down her spine as she tightened her grip on Weston's hand.
Weston looked back at her occasionally to see if she was doing alright. The wind had soaked her packed hair and it drooped on both sides of her face. She didn't look terrified or scared. She didn't look anything, really.
He turned away and continued to lead her across the fields, away from the walls and the garden and towards his very own safe space.
The stables.
***
Juliet’s heart pounded hard as Weston led her towards the stables, his hand wrapped around hers tightly. The fact that the stables smelled like wood mixed with horse droppings did almost nothing to displace her.
“This way.” Weston said, leading her further into the shed. She looked around, watching the horses bray in fright as another thunder cracked through the sky.
“Rain.” Weston said, staring at Juliet as they explored the stables even further. “It terrifies them.”
“I see.” Juliet responded.
Rain poured from the sky even more, and it didn't seem like it was going to stop anytime soon.
“Let's stay here.” Weston finally said once they got to a slightly warmer part of the stables. Right before them, behind a tiny wooden door, was a white horse. Unlike the other horses, it remained calm and relaxed.
“Well, he's not scared of the rain.” Juliet called, gesturing towards the horse. Weston’s eyes followed her hand.
“That belonged to Richard. It was his signature horse.”
Juliet nodded. She had found that men of royalty tended to have horses they grew attached to. One they felt understood them more than others. It was only expected that the former Marquess would have a horse of such as well.
“No one's ever ridden it ever since—” Weston said. While Juliet understood the respect for the Marquess, she couldn't help but wonder how lonely the horse must've gotten, having no one to take it out for the past two years.
