Chapter Fifteen

The last person Weston expected to see when he walked out was Juliet. He was still angry and had loosened his cravat so he could breathe a little. He had at first intended to go straight to the stables and grab a horse. It did not matter that he had already gone for a ride the same morning. Another one didn't hurt. He could fetch Charles on the way and tell him all about how he stood up to his mother.

He probably just cost himself some rapport within the society and had injured his frail reputation among friends even more. First, he had been the subject of salacious gossip for weeks. Now, he was the scorned man who had uttered words of damnation on his mother.

He was practically a villain. The man people would warn their sons and daughters about. That fact made him even angrier. He was ready to stomp to the stables or fall on the floor right there.

Until he saw her.

She was unmistakable even from a far distance. She was near the walls of the manor, digging into the soil. He frowned in surprise. He was under the impression that she had been in her room and might have heard his heated words. A wave of relief swept down his body as the realization hit him that Juliet was oblivious to everything. That was good. The last thing he needed was for her to feel like she had come between him and his mother.

Another loud rumble came from the skies. Weston looked up. A cluster of dark clouds continued to gather over Estfield and its environs. Riding might make him escape his thoughts, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to walk over to the stables. Instead, he was walking out into the fields and towards the walls.

He was walking to her.

The cold wind blew through his hair as he proceeded, his eyes intently on her. She was in a dark blue gown, one of her usual gardening garments. The closer he got, the clearer she became to him. Her tongue was slightly out and was fastened to the top of her lip in sheer focus. Her wounded hand stabled her other one as she continued to dig into the ground. Her hair was packed with a giant rose ribbon. A slight chuckle escaped his lips as he thought of her obsession with roses. She loved them, it was obvious.

She had an array of flowers placed gently on the ground beside her. He recognized them as the ones he had asked Mr. Brown to deliver. She didn't notice him as he walked towards her. She never looked up, not even once.

Not even when he stopped right in front of her, watching her dig harder into the ground.

"Juliet?" He called, surprised that the former anger that had been enclosed in his voice had completely disappeared.

Like a shocked deer, Juliet's shovel slipped off her hand. She looked up, her anxiously surprised green eyes meeting his.

"Weston?" She called. Her cheeks flamed scarlet at the thought of her husband seeing her in such a dirty state.

"You seem hard at work." Weston commended, a smile playing on his face. One he didn't have to wear. Juliet rose from the ground, rubbing dirt off her face with the back of her good hand. He was in his full regalia, a blue cotton buttoned-up jacket with a white shirt underneath, white pants, and gray boots. Juliet couldn't unfreeze herself fast enough

"I didn't know you were coming. I would've—"

"Please." Weston interrupted, his voice still soft. "Relax. It is nice to see you in your—natural habitat."

Juliet laughed. A real one. The kind of laugh he'd seen at the spring masquerade ball. A flush of warmth filled Weston's heart.

"How long have you been out here?"

"A while."

"Of course."

His eyes darted to the flowers lying beside her shovel. "Lilies." He pronounced.

Juliet nodded. "My mother used to say lilies are never too much for a fresh garden. They represented change—or rebirth, whichever was more appropriate."

Juliet felt her heart pound thunderously. Why was Weston talking to her? Had she done something? Did he have bad news to deliver, and this was his way of cushioning the blow?

"Good thinking not showing up at breakfast this morning." Weston said, his voice cutting through her thoughts.

Juliet opened her mouth to speak but froze halfway. She had felt a slight wetness on her forehead. It was the first drop of rain.

"I didn't want to do anything to offend Mother this morning, so I just thought I would stay in."

"I'm glad you did." Weston replied. He would've done the same if given the opportunity.

Silence. They stood looking at each other, unsure of what to say, waiting for the other to speak. The silence wasn't the tense one she had become accustomed to. It was a comfortable one. The kind they could both drift in—the kind they both needed.

Nature, deciding to act as the icebreaker, jumped into action. The slight raindrops slowly turned into mild drizzles. Juliet looked up at the darkened sky.

"We better get inside." She said.

Weston scoffed. The last place he wanted to be was in the manor. He would instead let the rain beat him than breathe the same air as his mother. Before he could work all of that into a sentence, thunder cracked across the sky, turning it loose. Then the rain started to fall in torrents.

"I have a better idea." Weston finally said. He stretched out his hand and waited.

"But we will have to run. Can you do that?" He asked.

Juliet slipped her hand in his. "Yes."

"Then we run." Weston said.

He tugged on her arm, and they took off. Harsh droplets of rain hit them in every area as they scampered across the windy fields. Juliet felt a chill, other than the one from the weather, running down her spine as she tightened her grip on Weston's hand.

Weston looked back at her occasionally to see if she was doing alright. The wind had soaked her packed hair and it drooped on both sides of her face. She didn't look terrified or scared. She didn't look anything, really.

He turned away and continued to lead her across the fields, away from the walls and the garden and towards his very own safe space.

The stables.

***

Juliet's heart pounded hard as Weston led her towards the stables, his hand wrapped around hers tightly. The fact that the stables smelled like wood mixed with horse droppings did almost nothing to displace her.

"This way." Weston said, leading her further into the shed. She looked around, watching the horses bray in fright as another thunder cracked through the sky.

"Rain." Weston said, staring at Juliet as they explored the stables even further. "It terrifies them."

"I see." Juliet responded.

Rain poured from the sky even more, and it didn't seem like it was going to stop anytime soon.

"Let's stay here." Weston finally said once they got to a slightly warmer part of the stables. Right before them, behind a tiny wooden door, was a white horse. Unlike the other horses, it remained calm and relaxed.

"Well, he's not scared of the rain." Juliet called, gesturing towards the horse. Weston's eyes followed her hand.

"That belonged to Richard. It was his signature horse."

Juliet nodded. She had found that men of royalty tended to have horses they grew attached to. One they felt understood them more than others. It was only expected that the former Marquess would have a horse of such as well.

"No one's ever ridden it ever since—" Weston said. While Juliet understood the respect for the Marquess, she couldn't help but wonder how lonely the horse must've gotten, having no one to take it out for the past two years.

"You're cold." Weston said, his voice sharp and contrasting. Juliet looked down at herself. She didn't realize she had wrapped her arms around her upper body rather tightly. She was only in a thin dress, one suitable for work, not for the harsh and chilly weather.

"It appears so." Juliet replied, letting out a nervous chuckle.

Weston undid the buttons of his jacket and took it off, revealing his thinly layered white shirt, which stuck to his body.

"The jacket is wet but not too much." He started, moving closer to Juliet.

"What are you doing? You'll get a cold." Juliet asked, feeling her cheeks heat up once more.

"Better me than you." Weston replied. He waited for her to come closer to him so he could wrap the jacket around her body.

"But I do—"

"Take the jacket, Juliet," Weston said, raising it a bit higher.

Juliet nodded and smiled broadly at him. Was the Weston she had gotten a glimpse of the other day back? She didn't dwell too much on those thoughts. The best thing to do would be to enjoy this as long as possible.

She let Weston wrap the jacket around her gently. This was the first time they had ever been this close. So close she could smell the sharp, dreamy fragrance on his body. She could also see, very clearly, the outlines of his body through the thin vest.

"There." He whispered, looking into her eyes. "That should keep you warm for a while.

"Thank you." Juliet whispered in response. The rain splattered across the roof even harder. Weston cupped his hand over his head and tried to look at the entrance where they had come in.

"I do not think this is stopping anytime soon." He said.

Juliet stared at him, a newfound appreciation creeping out of nowhere through her. No matter how hard he tried not to show it, Weston was a gentleman. He may have married her out of duty, but he didn't inherently despise her. And she liked that. She wanted to see this side of Weston even more. She wished she could.

Weston turned to catch her staring at him. A fresh wave of red swam up her cheek as their eyes met. She turned away almost instantly and shifted her eyes to the only other thing of interest around them—the white horse.

"Do you think the horse might be in some kind of pain? No one's ridden it in years."

Weston shrugged. "It doesn't take kindly to anyone. The only person allowed to get close to it was the groomer and the Marquess. I have tried going on it, but it wouldn't let me. Pretty stubborn stallion if you ask me."

Juliet didn't feel anything but pity for the poor horse. Pity so intense that she didn't know when her feet started to move towards it.

"You did hear me, right?" Weston called, his voice wary. "The horse doesn't take kindly to strangers."

Juliet moved closer to the horse and stopped right in front of the wooden gate. "It is not an angry horse."

She stretched out her hand. Weston all but reached for her hands and pulled her closer to him out of fear, but he stopped.

The horse was not reacting negatively to Juliet. In a shocking turn of events, it welcomed her instead. Juliet reached for the horse's neck and let her hand run down. The horse leaned into her touch and blew in satisfaction.

"That is—quite fascinating." Weston said, his face layered with intrigue and surprise. "The horse likes you."

"It is not a stubborn horse." Juliet said, gently petting the happy stallion. "It is only lonely."

Weston watched his wife continue to connect with the horse, feeling a new wave of warmth flood his heart. One that defied the chill running through his body. At that moment, he could feel impeccably impressed. Seeing her like this, compassionate and gentle, had shifted something in him greatly.

Something he wasn't sure he was ready to entertain.