“Thank you so much, Mr. Brown. Thank you.”
Mr. Brown smiled and handed her the box. Before he left, he bowed, acknowledging Weston. Weston waved at him.
“Would you look at that?! They're finally here?!” Juliet said, her voice a few pitches higher than usual. Weston enjoyed every minute of it. He loved seeing her this happy and was grateful the roses had done the trick.
“Oh. Right.” Juliet whispered, placing the box against her left side and holding it in place with her arm. She walked back to Weston and made to sit on the bench.
“You said you had something to tell me. I am sorry I got carried away.”
Weston stared at her, at the lingering smile on her face and the light in her eyes. He stared at the box and how she held onto it like one would hold a cherished item. He decided, at that moment, to let her enjoy her brand-new excitement.
“It can wait.” He finally said.
Juliet's eyebrows furrowed. “Are you sure?”
“Most definitely.” Weston replied, nodding slightly.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Weston stepped back into the manor, leaving Juliet to enjoy her flowers for the time being. He headed up to his room, looking to have a change of clothes and go for a ride later in the afternoon. As he stalked across the halls and walked past the drawing room, he heard his mother's rather recognizable laughter.
“I did not have the heart to tell her. That dress was outrageous.” He heard his mother say as he moved closer to the door.
“She would have to find another dressmaker, I'm sure.” Anne's gentle voice floated through the room as well.
Weston twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open, coming face to face with his mother and his sister, engaged in a casual conversation.
“I need to speak with Mother.” He said, stepping inside completely.
Anne and Beatrice exchanged confused expressions. Weston turned impatiently to his sister.
“Alone, Anne.” He said. Anne nodded and rose from her seat, floated past them, and headed out the door.
“Juliet just got her roses.” Weston said the minute his sister exited the room.
“What?” Beatrice asked, completely oblivious.
“I asked Mr Brown to deliver some roses to her for the garden. She just got them this afternoon.”
“I did not know she was expecting roses in the first place. That is good for her, I suppose.”
“You need to have seen her face when she saw them, mother. It was like she had been blessed with life itself. She loved it so much she had to scream out of joy. Did you hear me? Scream.”
“It is good to know something as frivolous and patronising as flowers makes your wife as happy as that.”
“No. No. You do not get me.” Weston said. He moved closer and placed his hands on the chair opposite Beatrice, the one Anne had to vacate. “She was that excited over roses because she is a light soul. She doesn't harbour grudges. She is kind, full of light, peace, and integrity. She is a walking example of a perfect human being. And that is the person you choose to continuously belittle and mock at every turn.”
“You're raising your voice again, Weston. I told you I would not take that anymore.”
“I am tired of this, mother.” Weston continued. “I am tired of having to listen to you criticise my wife constantly. It stops today. Do you hear me? Everything stops.”
“She is only your wife because she had to be.” Beatrice said, her words a slap across Weston’s heart. “There is nothing between the two of you except the great sense of duty and the shame we needed to cover.”
“It is more than that now. I am in love with her now, and I would not listen to you disparage her anymore.”
Beatrice rose from her chair, her sharp features twisting in both surprise and contempt. “You do not mean that.”
“Believe me. I mean it more than anything. And if you continue to make my wife feel bad about herself, I shall take action and leave.”
