Chapter Twenty-One

"Sit there." Juliet said, gesturing towards the only chair in their bedroom. "I'm sure Estelle kept some of the medicine Irene used for my hand. Let me just search for it."

"Juliet, you do not need to—"

"Worry?" She asked, turning to him. "This is me not worried. I promise you."

Weston looked up at her and nodded. "Fine."

"After that, we shall engage in a discourse on the art of maintaining composure whilst conversing with your mother, so as to avoid undue fervour." She continued, looking through every top cabinet in her dresser.

"I know. She brings out the worst in me." Weston replied, holding his wounded hand gingerly.

"No. She tries to do that, and you always let it work."

"I am not built like you, Juliet. I do not have the patience you have."

Juliet knelt on the floor to look through her dresser's bottom cabinet.

"Patience is not predominantly built into people, Weston. It is taught over and over again. I grew up with a father who spewed venom whenever I tried to tell him my preferences in a man and a brother who thought I was as useless as the highest fruit on a tree. I had to learn patience, or I would've been in a worse situation than this."

Her lips slightly parted as she pulled the last set of drawers. She was sure Estelle kept it somewhere.

"And what happens when patience alone isn't enough?" Weston asked.

Juliet rose from the floor and moved to her dressing table.

"We have not gotten to that stage yet. I will know."

Her eyes scanned the contents on the table and soon, caught the vial. She grabbed it and threw it across the floor to the bed.

"Let me get some water." She said and headed into her bath.

"You are doing fantastic so far, by the way." She heard Weston say behind her. A smile crept onto her face as she filled a bowl with water.

"We need to wash the wound first." She said once she got back to Weston. She knelt on the floor before him and reached for his hand.

Like someone would handle a delicate flower, Juliet grabbed Weston's hand and placed it into the bowl. His knuckles stung as the water ran through it, but he almost didn't feel the pain. Juliet holding his hand had somehow made him not to. His eyes were fixed on her as she worked, carefully cleaning the blood off his hand. He watched as she grabbed the vial and opened it. She pulled his hand out of the water and cleaned it with a dry piece of cloth.

"This may hurt a little." Juliet warned. Before Weston could protest, she sprinkled some of the ointment around the wounded area. Weston grunted in pain and tried to retrieve his hand from Juliet's stubborn grip.

"Oh please." She laughed, watching her husband react to the pain. "I am sure Anne would've taken that with no reaction at all."

"You had to apply that to your hand for almost a week?" Weston asked, surprised at how brave his wife had been, only adding more detail to his conviction.

"Yes. But then, I am not a baby like you, so it did not hurt." Juliet replied, planting a kind smile on her face. Weston watched her, carefully and firmly, attach the dry piece of clothing to his wound and wrap it right around his hand.

"Since it is only a small cut, it should disappear before daybreak."

Weston narrowed his eyes. "So I cannot ride today?"

"Unless you think you can push through the pain, no." Juliet replied. "Looks like it is just me and you today."

Weston's heart jumped at the idea. Nothing else mattered as long as he got to spend time with Juliet. Not even his hand.

"Would you like to escort me to the garden? I need to check on the plants and see how they're coming along."

As Juliet slowly rose from the floor, he couldn't help but wonder how he had been so blind the past few days. He had been so focused on finding happiness in freedom that he didn't think it was possible to find one in captivity. Juliet was the newest good thing in his life, and he wasn't ready to let her go. The more he watched her move around the room, the harder he fell for her, a feat he didn't even think was possible. He couldn't see himself living the rest of his life without her, and it started to grow paramount that he needed to tell her about his feelings. How he was going to do so was still a thing to be considered.

"Weston?" Juliet said, staring at her husband and breaking into his thoughts. "Did you hear me?"

"Yes." Weston replied, slightly rubbing the cloth around his hand. "Yes, I shall follow you."

Juliet wore a broad smile on her face. "Fascinating. I just need to change into a lighter dress."

She headed to her wardrobe and grabbed a deep blue silky gown, one he had seen her wear over and over. She headed behind the wardrobe and started to dress up.

Weston smiled. Juliet was a gift from fate, and he would cherish her for as long as he could. He was doing himself no good by shielding his feelings away from her. A slight laugh escaped him as he thought of Charles and what he would do with this situation. Charles would probably laugh hard at him first before anything because Weston had vehemently denied being in love with Juliet when he asked. Now that he was sure of his feelings, he needed the advice of his best friend regarding telling her. Where was the best place? What was the best time? How would he even voice it out to her?

"Are you ready?" Juliet asked, walking back out, now in her garden wear. Weston nodded and rose slowly from the chair.

Along with the slight head rush, the idea also hit him hard. Of course.

The garden.

It was the most special place to her. To both of them. What better place would make this even more monumental? They both headed into the garden.

"Since the roses still aren't here yet because for some reason, Mr. Brown seems to be taking his time, all I have to do today is inspect the lilies and check for weeds."

"Alright." Weston replied. He walked over to his usual bench and lowered himself into it, pondering on the best way to begin his speech.

"I don't know if you remember this, but I told you, perhaps the first day we met or our wedding day, that I once had a betrothed. The woman I was initially supposed to marry."

He was grateful Juliet didn't stop what she was doing to respond to him. It showed how casual she had found their talks to be, and it was lifting some pressure off of him as he spoke.

"Yes. You said you were not ready to talk about it." Juliet replied.

She knew something had happened to Weston in the past. She remembered the tour around the house with Anne, who had mentioned something along the lines as well. Of course, she imagined that pushing him to tell her anything before he was ready would not yield any good, so she decided to wait. It looked like he was finally ready to tell her about her and she didn't want to come on too strong so she decided to continue her work, while paying rapt attention.

"Her name was Eliza." Weston continued. "I met her when I was only nineteen. She was the love of my life. She was filled with light, joy, and just—pure happiness. She was also wise like you. We had our life planned together. I was so sure we were both going to get married and head into some part of town where we won't be weighed down by facetious politics and the shackles of society."

Juliet nodded. "Because you didn't know you would be a Marquess before then?"

"Precisely." Weston continued. "Everything was on track until, well, suddenly, it wasn't."

He was telling this story with slightly less difficulty. Usually, remembering Eliza alone would send tears forming behind his eyes or cause him to act out towards other people in some other way. This time, he was relaxed. Juliet had truly healed him, and she did not even know it.

"What happened?" Juliet asked. She knew whatever Weston said next would cause her to stop her work and go sit next to him. And that, it did.

"She fell from a horse one stormy night." Weston proclaimed.

"Oh, Lord." Juliet whispered. Now was the time to drop the casualness. She headed to the bench and lowered herself next to him.

"We couldn't get to the physician on time. The rain did not help. She had suffered a major bleed, and the blood wouldn't stop, no matter how hard I tried."

Juliet looked down and noticed his hands were slightly shaking, perhaps from grief. She grabbed them and squeezed them with hers, giving her husband a reassuring smile.

"She died in my hands, Juliet." Weston proclaimed.

"That must have been a traumatic thing to go through." Juliet said.

"It was six years ago." Weston continued. "Life changed drastically after she died. Everything turned into a giant pile of dull gray."

Juliet nodded, the feeling familiar to her as well, at least to a point. After her mother had died, she had thought life would no longer be worth living as well. The garden back at Willowbrook was the only thing that had kept her going because when everything felt cold and harsh, it had always provided warmth. Juliet fully believed her mother's spirit resided in the garden like the beautiful flowers she had planted.

"Then, Richard died a while later. He did not have an heir, so I had no choice but to step in and take over."

Juliet nodded. "Sometimes, the price for freedom is not always easy to provide. We start to wonder if the things we have to sacrifice will override the pleasures we are going to enjoy."

Weston smiled. "Right as always."

This was it. The perfect time to tell her. His hands were still intertwined in hers, and they were alone in the garden. His eyes searched hers to see if his words would have the desired effect. Did she feel the same way he did? Would this all have been for nothing? His eyes traveled to her hands. Despite her affinity for gardening, her hands were soft and gentle. They sent chills down his spine the more he looked at them.

No. He was wasting time, and he needed to stop that.

"Juliet, there is something I need to tell you." He finally started.

Juliet frowned in worried surprise. "What is it?"

Weston opened his mouth to speak but froze halfway. They had been interrupted. At first, it had started as distant footsteps laced with the crunching of dried leaves. And soon, the owner of those footsteps arrived, holding a small box.

"Mr. Brown?" Juliet whispered, her excitement growing. "You're here!"

"Apologies for the delay, my lady. We just had to make sure the roses were the best of the best."

Juliet's eyes traveled to the box. "Are those—"

"Yes." Mr Brown replied.

An excited squeal escaped her mouth as she jumped off the bench and hurried to the box. He opened it, and she looked closer, feeling the fresh fragrance from the roses hit her nose rather pleasantly."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Brown. Thank you."

Mr. Brown smiled and handed her the box. Before he left, he bowed, acknowledging Weston. Weston waved at him.

"Would you look at that?! They're finally here?!" Juliet said, her voice a few pitches higher than usual. Weston enjoyed every minute of it. He loved seeing her this happy and was grateful the roses had done the trick.

"Oh. Right." Juliet whispered, placing the box against her left side and holding it in place with her arm. She walked back to Weston and made to sit on the bench.

"You said you had something to tell me. I am sorry I got carried away."

Weston stared at her, at the lingering smile on her face and the light in her eyes. He stared at the box and how she held onto it like one would hold a cherished item. He decided, at that moment, to let her enjoy her brand-new excitement.

"It can wait." He finally said.

Juliet's eyebrows furrowed. "Are you sure?"

"Most definitely." Weston replied, nodding slightly.