“Drunk, sir. Disoriented.” Weston continued, the smile slowly disappearing from his face. “Drunk men like you are powder kegs around parties like this. I do not want any form of nuisance on my watch, so I will ask again. Will I have to ask the guards to drag you out ofmyhouse?” His voice was now firm and commanding.
“The—” Adam's eyes darted from Juliet to Weston in confused horror.
“Great. If you don't mind, it is time for the first dance, and I would like to have it withmy woman.As you have so eloquently put it.”
As Adam continued to find words that wouldn't come, Weston stretched out his hand towards Juliet. The quartet had started playing, and men were beginning to take places with their women partners.
“Would you do me the honour, Lady Juliet?”
Juliet laughed. He hadn't called her“Lady”in so long. The word felt strange yet comforting in his mouth.
“Most definitely.” She finally responded and gingerly placed her hand in his.
He pulled her closer to him and placed his other hand firmly around her waist. They began to sway to the music like the other people in the ballroom. Weston stared into Juliet's eyes as they danced as if freezing every moment for posterity. He could feel the wondrous wave of euphoria that flowed through him as he danced with her. They continued to twirl around the hall until every other person faded from Weston's view. All he could see was Juliet. Her green eyes, rich with wisdom and care. Her hearty laugh, as she almost slipped off her gown, her thick, shiny hair under her well-made headgear.
He knew, even before the dance ended that he was seeing her, truly seeing her for the first time. As the day continued to darken, a brand new feeling started to sink into his chest. He was dancing with her. His wife. The one he had grown to like.
The one he had fallen in love with.
Chapter Twenty
Breakfast the morning after Lady Beatrice's grand ball was the equivalent of an eerie calm after the storm. Thick silence prevailed as spoons clinked against plates and cups against teapots. It was apparent there was a lot to be said, but no one was going to throw the first stone. Weston sat opposite Juliet, stealing furtive glances at her every chance he could get. Now that he had started to see her in a new light, he couldn't take his eyes off her for long. Juliet, on the other hand, kept trying to relive the memories in her head over and over again. Her dance with Weston had been the highlight of her day. He had held her with such grace and firmness that she had felt her stomach flutter. He had made her feel like she was the only woman in the room with his eyes. He had been so intimate and so telling with his eyes. She never wanted the night to end, but like all good things, nay, like magnificent things, it had to.
“Anne.” Beatrice called breaking into Juliet's thoughts like fragile glass. “I noticed you were dancing with a certain gentleman last night. Do I know him?”
Anne frowned. “No. I do not think you do.”
“Well, we're going to have to change that, aren't we? If I don't know him, that means he couldn’t possibly be up to any good.”
“Or, you just don't know him because he didn't want to be known?”
“Somehow, that is even worse. Did you at least get his name?”
“Ferdinand.” Anne replied. “He's an Earl in South London.”
“Hm.” Beatrice replied, the obvious caution still laid in her voice. “Whatever happens, I need you to be careful. Do not get married to a lowlife or a wallflower. It would be a shame if that was all we could nail in this house.”
Juliet swallowed. She knew it was only a matter of time before the conversation became about her in one way or another.
“Men can't be wallflowers.” Weston said, his mouth full.
“You sound incredibly ignorant.” Anne replied.
“That reminds me.” Beatrice said, turning to look at Juliet. “Your father and his son left earlier than usual last night. Do you happen to have a reason for that?”
Juliet tightened her grip on her spoon. She had a myriad of reasons, of course, the most significant one being the fact that her husband had come to her defense with Adam. She was not ready to let Beatrice know that, though. It would be a fact she would be able to secretly relish with Weston.
“I am afraid I haven't the faintest idea. They most likely needed to retire for the night.”
“Really. That is it?” Beatrice asked. “No other reason?”
Weston raised his head to look at her. She was beginning to grow inconvenient by his mother's questions, he could tell.
Juliet shrugged. “I do not know.”
Flashes of her slight encounter with her father after her dance with Weston floated through her brain. He said nothing to her apart from “I hope you're well.” Juliet could tell her father was still sore about the wedding and how it had happened. She could tell he was hurting from how much she had tainted his and the house’s reputation. She didn't admit to herself just how much of a relief it had been to watch her father climb back into the carriage and ride back to Willowbrook until now.
“That is quite unfortunate.” Beatrice said. “I was hoping they could stay just a little bit longer so I could talk to them even more.”
