She was just as clueless. Whatever this was, Lady Beatrice was playing it close to her chest, which meant it would be harsher than the first.
“How many guests are we expecting?” Anne asked, her words a projection of Juliet’s thoughts.
“It's a ball, Anne. There will be many guests.” Beatrice replied.
“But who are we to expect? What kind of people are coming?”
“Friends of Abigail, friends of mine, other acquaintances from several parts of London. Abigail is quite the socialite.”
Anne shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
“Why? You think you will be too busy to attend to them one by one?”
Anne rolled her eyes. “You know I didn't mean that, mother.”
“I do not care about whatever it is you mean anyway. The event will be held this week, and you better be available.” Beatrice said and then turned to Juliet one more time. “Both of you.”
Juliet nodded. “Absolutely, mother.”
Beatrice was definitely hiding something. Juliet wondered who she invited this time around. And if this ball were as grand as she said it would be, it meant whatever ridicule she had planned for Juliet would be just as grand, or worse. Would this be on the scale of the last scandal she had to go through? Would she become a subject of gossip to be pushed around town once again?
But those thoughts were to be shelved for later. She needed to focus on today. Today, she would go for a ride with her husband, and nothing could stop her excitement. Not evenher mother-in-law's announcement and most definitely not dastardly thoughts of whatever the future held for her.
Deciding to close the door on these uncertainties once and for all, she grabbed a piece of bread. Today was for her and her husband only, and she would not let anything get in the way of that.
***
Weston let her lead the way as they both walked into the stables.
“Picking a horse is like picking a pair of gloves. It has to be a perfect fit. You have to connect rather deeply to it, too.” He explained, nodding subtly at the men taking care of the horses.
“Like a pair of gloves, you say.” Juliet asked, looking around, her eyes darting across the array of horses all neighing in their stalls.
“Yes. That—” Weston continued, gesturing towards a brown mare with a long shiny mane. “—is Edwina. She's the one I take most of the time.”
Juliet turned to look at Weston, her face clouded with amusement. “Edwina? You name your horse?”
“Youhaveto name your horse.” Weston replied, evidently surprised that this wasn't common knowledge. “It is a rite of passage.”
“I see.” Juliet responded. Her eyes continued to shift from each horse, and they all either felt a bit too high for her or didn't seem like they would entertain her.
“I want that one.” She said, finally, pointing ahead. Weston's eyes followed her hand and landed on a tall, white stallion.
Thewhite stallion. The one that belonged to the former Marquess. The one she had connected to ever so easily when other people had been afraid to even go near it.
“Really? You want that one?”
“It's just like you said, right? The horse has to fit you like a glove? I think he and I made a connection the other day.”
Weston gestured to one of the men and asked him to fetch the horse.
“I'd prefer to do that myself if you don't mind.” Juliet asked. Weston shrugged and watched her untie the horse and lead it out of the cage.
“Are you ready?” He asked, grabbing the rope to Edwina as well.
“Didn't you say I have to give it a name?”
“I mean—it most likely already has one. It belonged to Richard, remember?”
