Page 57 of A Marriage for the Marquess

“You have your own talent, Mrs. Murthy. That is exactly what we need.” Juliet let out a heavy sigh. “We have one more.”

“Excuse me, Miss Juliet.” Mr. Wilcox entered the room. “This came for Lady Rosefield.” He handed Aunt Geraldine a message.

“Mr. Wilcox, have you heard? There is talk that an announcement of great consequences concerning the future of the Aurington estate will be made at the Aurington Gala. It’s all very hush-hush, but this revelation could shift the very foundations of London society. Why, anyone who’s anyone will want to be at Aurington Park on Monday to see what unfolds!”

“Indeed, Miss Juliet?” His eyebrow raised ever so slightly. “Such news is most…intriguing. It shall be interesting to see what transpires at the gala.” His tone remained neutral and gave away nothing of his personal thoughts as he left the women.

Aunt Geraldine rose putting the note in her pocket. “Your mother sends you her love. It’s a lovely day, and while we have attended to much-needed business, it would do us good to make our afternoon calls. Juliet, will you join me?”

Juliet glanced at Mrs. Murthy. “I have some errands to run. There’s the grocer, first on my list, then the modiste to gather your gown. I think the baker, too. And I’ll bring your article to the London Chronicle office. I best me on my way.”

*

Their strategy unfoldedas they mingled among the guests at various social calls. Juliet’s casual remark to Lady Ashfield about an upcoming ‘surprise’ at the gala was met with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smile. “Oh, what do you know?” Lady Ashfield urged, her interest piqued.

Juliet’s smile was mysterious. “Let’s just say that surprises may be afoot.”

After an afternoon of calls, Juliet and her aunt returned to Fairmont Abbey.

Mrs. Murthy brought the tea service into the drawing room.

“Thank you, Mrs. Murthy.” Aunt Geraldine glanced at the housekeeper as she poured tea. “How was your afternoon?”

“It was very interesting indeed. I handed in the article at the London Chronicle, and the clerk took it from me. I stopped for a moment when a gentleman rushed out of his office and demanded to know who gave him the note. The clerk looked around. ‘The woman must have left,’ he said. They were putting it into the next edition of the paper.”

Juliet and Aunt Geraldine smiled and sipped their tea.

“I made my stops along the way.” Mrs. Murthy poured herself a cup and joined them. “I think the Aurington Gala will be the talk of the dinner table above and below stairs.”

*

“My lord,” Sandersonstood at the library door. “Mr. Herbert from the London Chronicle to see you.”

Aurington glanced at Ewan and Duncan. “Are you expecting someone from the newspaper?” The two men shook their heads. Aurington turned to his butler. “Send him in.”

Mr. Herbert, a man of sharp eyes and sharper wit, entered the Aurington library with a respectful bow. “Your Grace, gentlemen,” he greeted.

“It is good to see you, Mr. Herbert. I may be a bit late, but I understand congratulations are in order. You’ve left the London Gazette for the Chronicle.”

“Thank you, my lord.” He bowed again. “That is very kind of you.”

“What brings you here?”

“We’ve received a curious note regarding your upcoming gala, and we seek your comment before publication.” He passed the note to Aurington, who read it and passed it on to Ewan.

Ewan took the note from the editor, his eyes scanning the words. The message spoke of an unexpected event, a revelation that would captivate all who attended the Aurington Gala. Yet, as he read, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Duncan, who had been silent, suddenly let out a hearty laugh, drawing curious glances from Ewan, Aurington, and Mr. Herbert. “What amuses you so, Duncan?” Ewan asked, a hint of irritation evident.

Duncan pointed to the word ‘starling’ within the note. “She’s telling you this is her work,” he explained quietly, still chuckling. “Who else but Lady Glenraven, your wife, would be so clever?”

Ewan’s eyes widened in realization, and he re-read the message with newfound understanding. “Clever indeed,” he murmured. “She wants to ensure the gala is well attended.”

The editor shifted uncomfortably, unsure of his role in this private revelation. “Shall I wait for your response, my lord?”

Ewan nodded, lost in thought. “Yes, wait, please.” He pondered aloud, “How will she know it’s me responding? I don’t want it to be obvious to everyone…”

Duncan, quick to offer a solution, suggested, “Refer to yourself as Falcon. She’ll know it’s you.”

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