Page 21 of A Marriage for the Marquess

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, bringing her back to the present. Juliet quickly settled herself, straightening her skirt and smoothing out the wrinkles. She took a deep breath and put on a practiced smile, ready to receive her callers. When the door opened, Lord Glenraven stood in frontof her. Neither Mr. Hargrove nor Viscount Mandeville were anywhere in sight. Her heart skipped a beat.

He stood in the doorway, a vision of charm, holding a bouquet so vibrant and alive it seemed to bring the very garden into the room. The flowers in his hands were a stark contrast to the polite, predictable arrangements that usually graced such visits. His was an elegant bouquet with a touch of the unexpected, much like their encounters. Rare blue roses were the centerpiece of the bouquet, symbolizing the mystery and intrigue of their relationship. Delicate white lilies surrounded the roses implying purity and modesty. Interspersed among the flowers were sprigs of heather from Scotland, signifying admiration and protection, and lastly, sprigs of rosemary for remembrance, which hinted at their shared moments and conversations. The bouquet was tied with a simple ribbon.

Juliet stood to meet him, her heart beating faster with sudden excitement. “Lord Glenraven,” she greeted, her voice steady despite the surprise that danced in her eyes. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?”

He stepped forward and offered her the flowers. “I saw these and thought of you.” His voice carried the warmth of their shared moments. “They reflect the beauty and depth I’ve come to associate with you, Miss Hayward.”

Juliet’s fingers brushed against his as she took the bouquet, reigniting their connection at the ball. The room, with its fine furnishings and portraits of ancestors long past, seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them standing amidst the quiet of their undeniable bond.

Before they could settle into a conversation, Mr. Hargrove and Viscount Mandeville were announced. The two gentlemen entered, each bearing floral tributes, but the atmosphere they were accustomed to had shifted substantially with Glenraven’s commanding presence. Mr. Hargrove’s usual prattle about theweather fell flat, and even Viscount Mandeville’s attempts at charm seemed to falter under Glenraven’s silent, discerning gaze.

The tension was such that Hargrove’s and Mandeville’s visit, which would usually extend well past an hour, was cut short. With awkward excuses, the gentlemen took their leave, their departure as hurried as it was unceremonious.

Once alone, Juliet turned to Glenraven, her eyes alight with amusement. “Well, that was rather surprising,” she said, a laugh escaping her lips.

His response was a slight shrug, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. “I merely came to see you, Juliet. Their timing was… unfortunate.”

When he tenderly uttered her given name and did not address her as ‘Miss Hayward,’ she felt a flutter in her chest, a warmth that spread to her cheeks. It was an intimacy she had not expected.

“Juliet,” he said again, and this time it sounded like a caress, a secret only they shared. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise and delight.

He met her gaze, a gentle affirmation in his eyes. “Forgive me for taking the liberty, Miss Hayward. But Juliet suits you far better,” he corrected himself.

A soft smile played on her lips. “It’s quite all right, Lord Glenraven—”

“Please, Ewan. It seems only right, considering you’ve allowed me to use your given name.”

Juliet glanced at the bouquet in her hands, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “These flowers are lovely. Are you trying to outshine the garden outside?”

He leaned back, his smile broadening. “I merely wished to bring a small part of the garden’s beauty indoors. Though I must admit, even the finest blossoms pale in comparison to you.”

Juliet laughed. “Flattery, my lord, will get you everywhere, or at least into the good graces of Mrs. Murthy.” She found herself laughing more freely than she had the last weeks, her earlier disappointment forgotten.

“Ah, but it is not your housekeeper I seek to impress.” He leaned in slightly, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that made her heart race.

In the quiet of the drawing room, Juliet’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. Her heart waged a silent war as they spoke about favored places and hidden gems in London. Ewan’s reassuring and solid presence was also a mirror reflecting the truth she had yet to share. The guilt of withholding the reality of her family’s plight clawed at her, but fear whispered caution—fear that revealing the depths of her troubles might drive him away, severing the fragile connection they’d just begun to create.

She stole a glance at him, his expression open and inviting. How would it change once he knew everything? The obligation of her brother’s looming debts and the shadow of scandal were burdens she bore. She had no right to ask him to shoulder them, too.

As she wrestled with her thoughts, a stronger voice urged her to be honest. He needed to know the truth if there were to be any hope for them. Once she did, Ewan could decide. And perhaps, just perhaps, he would see beyond her family’s troubles and see the woman who stood before him—imperfect but loyal.

“Ewan,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, “I find myself at a crossroads, and I believe it is something you should know.” She paused. Telling him everything seemed so easy in her thoughts, but now that she had to voice them, the words eluded her. She took a deep breath and gathered the courage.Just say it.“My family… we are facing difficulties since my brother’s passing.” She paused with her hands folded tightly in her lap as if holding the pieces of her story together.

The confession hung in the air like a rain cloud waiting to burst. Yet, she felt relieved knowing she had done the honorable thing. She couldn’t bear the thought of Ewan hearing whispers from others—gossip that would inevitably spread as the two of them became closer. Thetonloved a disaster.

Ewan reached across the small space between them and gently touched her hand, anchoring her in the moment. “Juliet, whatever challenges you face,” his voice was steady and sure, “know that you are not alone.”

Juliet continued, but the words were coming with more difficulty now. “Since Bradley… since we lost him, things have been… challenging.” The last word understated the turmoil that followed her brother’s death.

Ewan’s expression softened. “Juliet, whatever it is, you can tell me,” he urged gently.

She couldn’t stop now, but the horror made her want to. She might as well simply ask him to leave. Juliet lifted her head and was taken aback by the encouragement she found in his eyes.

Chapter Thirteen

“Bradley left behindmore than just grief… there were debts, ones we can’t possibly settle.” Her voice trembled with the admission, the facade of the composed lady crumbling to reveal the scared young woman beneath. “We’re facing ruin, Ewan.”

Ewan tightened his grasp on her hand, a wordless vow of solidarity. He leaned in. “Juliet,” his voice was low and confident, “we’ll navigate this together.”

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