Page 48 of A Marriage for the Marquess

“And where will you go?” They pressed, their eyes searching hers for a hint of her plan.

“To a place where no one will find me,” Juliet replied, “I will not tell you and make you an accomplice. I love you both too much. I will be at a secret place where I can think and breathe.”

Before she left, Juliet paused. “Did anyone find Bradley’s diary?”

Mrs. Murthy shook her head. “No, miss. But there was something strange about his room after Mr. Wilcox and the coroner finished. The fireplace…”

“The fireplace?” Juliet echoed, puzzled.

“Yes,” Mrs. Murthy confirmed. “We found what looked like a burned leather binding but no pages. Bradley had burned papers.”

Juliet was taken aback. Her brother kept every paper and never destroyed any. For him to burn papers meant something significant.

Mrs. Murthy then retrieved a small wooden box. “I kept the binding in here for safekeeping.”

Juliet opened the box, expecting the acrid smell of smoke even after two months. Instead, a faint, unfamiliar fragrance, musky and rich with a touch of lemon, wafted out and lingered in the air. She put the scorched binding back into the box.

“Please, keep this safe. The Bradley we knew would never destroy his diary. But the more I find out, the more I think I didn’t know the Bradley we buried.”

Wearing Mrs. Murthy’s cloak and hat, she left by the servant’s door. Her steps were firm as she made her way through the busy streets, her decision never in question. No one took notice of her as she entered The Penny Post. She paused at the entrance, her heart heavy with what she was about to do.

The clerk’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Miss?” he inquired, reaching out for her letter.

With a deep breath, Juliet handed over the letter and the fee. The sound of the coin hitting the counter echoed in her ears, sealing the finality of her decision.

She turned away and let the door close softly behind her. She was on her own now, on a path that would challenge her courage and conviction, but she would not fail.

*

April 23, 1820 Dusk

Ewan paced thelength of the library, his boots echoing against the polished wood floor. Each report from his men came back the same. There was no sign of Juliet anywhere. His hands, flexing into fists, betrayed his growing frustration.

The door opened, and the archbishop entered. “My lord,” he began, his voice somber. “I’m here to see your father, but I find I have troubling news for you. I’ve received this,” he held up the Glenraven circlet, “along with a message from Lady Glenraven. She mentioned there may be a prior settlement that could threaten your marriage. She asked that I return this to you.” He placed the circlet on the desk.

The room stilled. The gravity of his words and Juliet’s actions settled over the family. Ewan’s mother stared at the Glenraven treasure, trying to hide the worry in her eyes. “Nonsense! Juliet is Ewan’s lawful wife. There can be no truth to such a claim.”

Ewan’s father rose from his chair, his stature commanding. “Juliet is overreacting. We must see this alleged settlement. Without proof, it’s mere tittle-tattle.”

The archbishop nodded, his gaze meeting Ewan’s. “I, too, want to see the document. This is a serious allegation.”

Duncan entered carrying a letter. “This just arrived for you.” He extended it toward Ewan.

The familiar script struck him like a lightning bolt. Without hesitation, he broke the wax seal and unfolded the letter. The parchment trembled as he silently read the message.

Ewan,

As I pen this letter, I find myself reflecting on our vows. Though our marriage was born of necessity, it now leaves me questioning our haste.

I am stepping away, not out of a lack of affection but from a deep-seated care that compels me to protect you from my family’s misfortune. I must find clarity and a way forward that does not endanger you or your family’s legacy.

I hope that we can both find the answers we seek and perhaps, in time, a way back to each other.

Juliet

The archbishop, his expression one of compassion and concern, gently placed a hand on Ewan’s shoulder.

Ewan’s breath hitched, each inhale sharp and erratic as the reality of Juliet’s absence settled like a weight upon his chest. “She’s gone,” he whispered, the words barely making sense to him. He shook his head slowly. “No, it can’t be true. There must be a mistake,” as if saying the words out loud could change the truth.

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