Chapter Two

Breakfast at the Willowbrook Manor was a grand affair. The table was usually filled with all sorts of baked and roasted foods. Fruit like grapes and figs hung from corners of the table, and space was barely left for each family member to have a spot to eat.

This morning was no different. While there were only five people surrounding the table, the food available was enough to feed an entire village for a day. Juliet made a mental note to appease the ladies in charge of the kitchen. The silence around the dining table was palpable and was so thick it could be cut with a butter knife. Spoons clinked against fine china, and full mouths gently chewed. Juliet's eyes scanned every other member of the dining table for a minute. Right before her, on the other end of the table, was her father, Lord Peter Fairmont, whose face was completely buried in his breakfast. On her left was her half-brother, Adam, and his wife, Camilla, feeding him grapes and bits of roasted pork. As Adam took in another grape from his wife, he gently leaned closer to her and playfully bit her cheek. She laughed and gently pressed her face into his arm, a wave of red betraying her cheeks. Juliet tried as much as possible not to grimace. She decided to look the other way instead, and her eyes settled on the last member of the dining table, Aunt Grace, who was busy looking around the table as well. When their eyes met, Juliet tried to return to her food as much as possible.

"Juliet. I heard you sent for the dressmaker." Aunt Grace started, and Juliet forcefully closed her eyes, hoping whatever was about to happen would go by very fast. "That means you're preparing for the new Season. Are you going to try and make an effort this year?"

Juliet cut a piece of chicken skin off her bone and grabbed a fork. "I don't know. Will the gentlemen of the up-coming season still possess the same lack of wit as the predecessors?"

Grace sighed. "You're going to have to settle on a husband one of these days, Juliet. You're not growing any younger."

Juliet noticed her father was no longer paying attention to his food. From her periphery, she could tell he was staring straight at her.

"Perhaps I shall continue to tend to the garden until I find one good enough for me." Juliet replied.

"Juliet, no man is going to want you in a few years. You'll be too old for them." Adam chipped in, his voice sleek and meandering.

"Perhaps that is for the best." Juliet said, a tiny retort etched into her voice. She didn't like Adam very much, and her dislike for him began to rise again.

"That's enough." Her father growled, his hands slowly beating the table.

Juliet grew silent. Arguing with Aunt Grace or Adam was one thing. Arguing with her father was practically a death sentence. Peter threw her a long, cold stare, and for a moment, Juliet wondered what hell her father was about to unleash on her. Then he turned to Adam and Camila.

"Camilla, You shall be in charge of the gardens from tomorrow."

Juliet's ears stilled. "What?"

"I'll be honoured, my Lord." Camilla replied, the smile on her face evident in her voice.

"Father, what is this?" Juliet asked, feeling the news hit her like a ton of bricks.

"I'll have you know that no daughter of mine shall spend her marriageable years whistling alone in a garden and tending to roses."

"Father—"

"You shall make yourself as appealing as possible to the men that'll grace our estate this season. If you can't land a husband, you might as well move to another part of the country."

"Father—"

"That's enough from you. You've failed to get yourself a husband for the past three years. That is the most unusual behaviour." Peter said, his voice rising. Juliet knew nothing could be done to appease her father whenever he started to boil from within. The best thing to do was to keep quiet and not to fan the flames of his anger.

"Perhaps if you spent half the effort you do on the roses into looking for a husband, you might have gotten one by now." Adam said in his annoyingly sleek voice.

Juliet glared at Adam. He was enjoying this as he did anything that brought her misery. Camilla was still holding onto his arm. Juliet's eyes darted from him to her. She was staring back and had the most coy smile on her face. One that annoyed Juliet even more. Camilla was a social climber. That much was obvious. No one in their right mind would want to settle for her half-brother. Apart from his title and inherited wealth, he had nothing to offer. Adam couldn't hold long conversations without angering either the women he was engaging with or just women in general. Sometimes, she found it hard to believe they both came from the same father.

"This season, you have to get yourself, at the very least, a Marquess or an Earl." Adam continued. Juliet turned to look at her father, hoping he would do something and keep him quiet, but alas, Lord Peter's eyes were buried in his food once again.

"You have a substantial dowry. No man wouldn't want to be with you." Adam continued.

"Was that how you got her?" Juliet mentioned, turning towards Camilla, whose smile dropped almost instantly.

"Have you been hit on the head by a brick?" Adam's eyes widened in anger.

"I mean—your dowry was just as sizable as mine. Even more."

"Have you gone mad!?" Adam asked again, now rising from his seat.

"Remind me again, how did you and Camilla meet each other?"

"Father, are you going to watch her talk to me this way?" Adam asked, turning to look at Lord Peter.

"Perhaps we all need to simmer down." Aunt Grace said, her maternal instincts kicking in. "Adam, why don't you sit down and continue with your food? You know how Juliet can be sometimes."

"It's no surprise she can't find a husband." Adam replied, lowering himself onto his seat.

Aunt Grace rose from her chair and gently slid closer to Juliet.

"What did you do that for? You know how angry your brother can get." She said her voice in a mellow and admonishing whisper.

" Half -brother." Juliet corrected. "And I don't mind the anger at all. I don't think you should too."

"This isn't going to help anyone, Juliet." Aunt Grace continued. "You can't spend the rest of your life looking after roses."

"Why not?"

"Because you're a lady, Juliet. You can't think about what's good for yourself alone. You have to think about Willowbrook all the time. Not getting married on time is reflecting poorly on the estate. Come with me."

Aunt Grace rose from her seat one more time, took a short bow before Lord Peter, and exited the dining room. Juliet grabbed a glass of water and sipped it before doing the same. She could feel Adam's heated gaze in the back of her head as she slowly made her way out.

"So, I did not want to say this in front of your father because I do not want another war on my hands." Grace started, once they were out of earshot and in a quiet part of the court. A few guards stood still at the closest entrance, and some maids gently walked past them, quickening their steps once they saw Aunt Grace.

"What is it?"

"I have found a way for you to shed your wallflower ways. You say the problem is that these men only want you for your money and what you look like. Is that right?"

"Yes?" Juliet replied, narrowing her eyes. If she knew anything about her aunt, it was how eccentric and unusual her ideas might be sometimes.

"What if you come to the Spring Masquerade Ball?"

Juliet felt a shade of heat brush through her cheeks. The Spring Masquerade Ball was one of the most significant events of the year, and it was always hosted by her Aunt Grace herself.

"You want me to dress up as one of the masquerades? Do you really think me that unappealing, Aunt Grace?" Juliet asked.

"Juliet. You are as pretty as they come. But perhaps you can strike up conversations better with men when they don't know what you look like. You know what they say; a mask gives a lady the right amount of courage."

Juliet sighed. The idea wasn't utterly repulsive to her. Now that her garden was at stake and at the risk of becoming a giant pound of dust, thanks to Camilla's exceptional gardening skills, she needed to take action now more than ever.

"Think of just how many of the men of London you shall be able to dazzle without showing your face." Aunt Grace continued, an encouraging edge visible in her voice.

"A disguise makes even the meekest of maids a bold lady at a costume ball." Juliet mentioned.

"Absolutely." Aunt Grace replied. "So you shall come?"

Juliet let a few seconds pass as she thought the idea over one more time.

"Why not?" She finally replied. If this would get both her father and her brother off her back, she was ready to do it.

"Wonderful." Aunt Grace whispered, the delight in her voice as present as the thick air in the court. "I shall get the dressmaker started on your costume."

"One more thing." Juliet continued, watching the elation on Grace's face slowly fade. "I shall be able to design my costume with roses, yes?"

Aunt Grace became full of smiles again. "Of course, my darling. Whatever you want."

Juliet nodded. While she didn't exactly show it, some part of her was looking forward to the Masquerade Ball. Perhaps this might be the solution to her problem after all.

***

Estfield Manor was filled to the brim with men and women from all parts of London, and the idea of going out to meet them made Weston uncomfortable.

It was his sister Anne's coming out ball, and if it were up to him, the event would be as minimal as possible. Unfortunately, his mother was in control, and she wanted to ensure her daughter's integration into the social society was known to all and sundry.

Weston rose from his chair and walked to the nearby mirror. He adjusted his cravat before heading out of his bedroom. He could hear the wave of murmurs from the hall as he walked to his sister's bedroom, but he tried to pay it no mind. He should manage to push through the day, and before the event would come to an end, he could retire to his room. He stopped right in front of Anne's door. One of her maids was fixing her arm gloves.

Anne saw him appear through the mirror placed right before her.

"Oh, Weston. This is all very wonderful, is it not?" She asked, unable to contain the excitement on her face.

"Yes, it is. And you look really beautiful." Weston replied, leaning against the doorframe. "Any man would be lucky to have a dance with you tonight."

Anne had always been one for fairytales. She believed in love and happy endings and all the stuff people grow out of after life had dealt with them. She was the complete opposite of Weston.

"Are you ready?" Weston asked after the maids had left her side, leaving her to look at herself in the mirror again.

She nodded slowly. "Yes."

Weston managed to crank up half a smile. He stretched out his right hand and watched his sister walk to him. She slipped her arm in his, and they both walked past her doorway and towards the giant steps that led down to the hall.

"Is it a bad thing if I say that I am feeling nervous?"

"It is okay to feel nervous." Weston replied, giving his sister a reassuring squeeze. "Perhaps you might find a handsome man to dance with tonight. He will ask for your hand in marriage, and you shall ride off into the sunset with your beautiful children."

"Hilarious." Anne whispered, rolling her eyes. Weston stifled a chuckle. Soon, they got to the steps, and after giving Anne one more reassuring smile, he descended with her amidst the loud music and the wild chatter of the noblemen and women, all walking around, mingling with each other.

"Lady Anne." A deep voice greeted her once Anne's feet touched the floor. "I am Lieutenant Marcus Henderson. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Anne put her hand in his and watched him kiss it. "I am pleased as well."

"May I have the first dance? I would be honoured."

Anne turned to Weston, her curious eyes searching for his approval. Weston nodded and threw her a full smile. She let Marcus take her hand in his and lead her into the middle of the hall.

"He is a very fine man." Weston heard his mother say behind him, causing him to almost jump out of his skin.

"Pray, you cannot approach me so stealthily, mother." Weston sighed.

"What do you think of her?" Beatrice continued, ignoring her son's warning. She'd gestured towards a young maiden in the brightest blue gown in the hall, chatting with a few more ladies.

"Who is that?" Weston asked as though he was interested.

"Lady Helena Waters. Her father is the Duke of Thornewood. Pleasant on the eyes, is she not?"

Weston shrugged. "I suppose."

"She holds a lot of power at court, Weston. You and her together would be an unstoppable match."

Weston nodded. "I'll think about it, mother."

Of course, he wouldn't. From afar, he couldn't be less impressed by Lady Helena. He couldn't be less impressed by everything and anything at this ball. He'd become immune to the wonders, the pomp and pageantry of events like this.

His eyes turned to the middle of the court one more time. Anne and Marcus were still together, gently swaying to the addictive quartet. For a minute, he imagined them to be Eliza and him instead, having their first dance on the very same court. He remembered meeting her for the first time in a satin green gown, one that had brought out the magnificence in her eyes. He remembered the chills he felt through his body when Eliza had put her hand in his for the first time. Now, everything around him was just a hollow reminder of the joy he once had in his life. He'd managed to steel his heart over the past six years. He could do the same for this one night. As Anne and Marcus continued to dance through the night, Weston wondered if anyone would be able to pull him from his reverie. If anyone would be able to shine a light into his wounded heart and fill the hole Eliza had left in him.

His eyes took another sweep of the court one more time and landed on Lady Helena Waters. She was no longer talking to her friends. Instead, she was looking right back at him. Weston judged she'd been doing that for quite a while.

Helena slightly bowed from where she stood, a bright smile on her face. He returned the smile and gave her a slight nod as well.

This was going to be quite a long night.