Chapter Five

Weston could see the freedom he once envisioned slowly slipping from his grasp. Life was about to deal him another pain, and he was going to take it.

"This is terrible." He heard Juliet say. He didn't need to listen hard before picking up the desperation in her voice. She knew trouble was looming, too. It was only a matter of time. "No, this is more than terrible. This is a catastrophe. A plague. Oh dear lord, my father is going to feed me to his horses."

"Lady Juliet—"

"You do not understand. I am already on thin ice. This is going to destroy me. It'll destroy my father. For heaven's sake, it will destroy Willowbrook."

"Lady Juliet—"

"I can't breathe. Why can't I breathe?—"

"Lady Juliet—"

"Why can't I breathe?!"

"Juliet!" Weston had no choice but to grab her arms as his voice rose.

She froze in place. He was touching her. Why was he touching her?

Weston seemed to realize he had gone too far as well, and his hands slowly fell off her arms.

"Perhaps you need to take your mask off." He said, pointing to the embroidered mask on her face.

"You jest a lot, my lord."

"Look, whatever trouble is coming now can't get any worse. Would you prefer to die from lack of air, at this ball, for that matter? Take it off."

Juliet reached for her mask and slowly loosened it off her face.

"Do you feel any better?"

"A little." Juliet replied, holding on to her mask for dear life.

"How fast do you reckon this spreads?" Weston asked, looking through the path he'd come into the garden.

"Knowing Lady Violet, I would say the whole of London is going to find out about this before the day breaks."

Weston felt his heart drop. The last thing he needed was a scandal. This was supposed to be a quick thing for him. He came for Anne. He didn't come to get himself in the middle of some salacious gossip. He wasn't here to become a staple on every mouth across London.

His thoughts were interrupted by growing murmurs, causing his heart to drop even further.

"Oh, Lord." He heard Juliet whimper.

"What exactly is happening here?" Juliet heard her father's unmistakably angry voice soar through the quiet garden.

She placed her mask on her face one more time. Weston turned to look at her.

"I prefer to do it this way." She said, not waiting for him to protest.

Soon, the soft bushes parted ways, and her father appeared behind them. He was followed by her half-brother, his wife, and a worried Aunt Grace.

Juliet felt her cheeks heat up. The whole family was here.

"What have you gotten yourself into, sister?" Adam asked, moving closer to her. "Was last year not enough of a lesson to you?"

Juliet shut her eyes tightly and tried to push back the unwanted memories into their cage. The last thing she needed was to add a breakdown to her tragedy.

"Father—"

"I said it couldn't possibly be true." Peter interrupted, too angry to let his daughter get a word in.

"When I was informed about this—this preposterous fraternisation, I said it couldn't possibly be my Juliet." Peter continued.

"What are you doing? Sneaking off into the garden with a Marquess? Is this why you didn't want to get married? So you could perform immoral acts with men at parties?"

Juliet's eyes widened in disbelief. "What?"

"Just when I thought you couldn't possibly disappoint me any further."

Weston couldn't help but join in at this point.

"I fear this has all been blown out of proportion."

"You will speak when spoken to, young man." Peter said, turning to look at Weston, sheer venom in his eyes.

"Do you realise what you've done?" Adam said, his eyes squarely on Juliet. "To yourself, to us? To the family? Everyone back in the hall is aware of this, and it is only a matter of time before this spreads."

"Good lord." A feminine voice called from behind the bushes. Weston felt the color drain from his face. It could only be one person.

"Well enough, Lady Beatrice appeared the same way Juliet's dad had come, intense disbelief scrawled all over her face.

"Weston." Beatrice started. "So this wasn't a lie. You were caught in a compromised position with a spinster?"

Weston frowned. What exactly did Lady Violet say?

"Mother, I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding." Weston said, not oblivious to the fact that his explanation was all falling on deaf ears.

"Oh, Heavens." Beatrice continued. "Who knew the price of coming to this ball would be to have my family's name dragged through the mud?"

"What a night." Juliet heard Camilla say. Slowly, more people joined them in the garden. One-sided arguments turned into full blown chaos, and it grew even louder.

Weston turned to look at Juliet. He could tell, even with the mask on her face, that she was crying. Her tears triggered something in him. Something primal. Something unusual.

Something he was most definitely going to regret.

"Perhaps there is a way to settle this." He said. The loud murmur around him drowned out his voice. He turned to look at Juliet again. He couldn't bear to see her in pain.

"Everyone, quiet at once!" He screamed. His voice pierced through the cold night air, causing silence to occur at once. All eyes were now on him.

This was going to blow back on him. He knew that.

"Perhaps there is a way to settle this." He repeated. The words were there, at the tip of his tongue. Saying it, was going to change his life forever. It was going to eliminate any sort of freedom he was hoping he could achieve at the end of the day.

Saying it, would change his destiny, but hopefully, it would help Juliet a little.

The piercing gazes continued to burn into his heart. He didn't want to wait any longer.

"I would like to marry Lady Juliet."

There. Like the air of a new season, his words sent waves of fresh murmurs sweeping amidst the crowds.

Juliet took off her mask in utter shock and turned to look at him. He didn't reciprocate.

He couldn't.

There was no going back.

***

Breakfast at the Willowbrook Manor, two days later, was a disaster. The usual clinking of spoons against plates was nowhere to be found. In its place were loud words from every corner, berating Juliet.

As she had predicted, the rumors had spread beyond control, and she could do nothing about it. At first, the gossip had been met with speculation. Lady Violet was a notorious gossip monger, and she had a reputation for spreading fake news. However, when the scandal sheets took over the story, and it started to appear on paper, the lack of conviction instantly faded away. A day later, every Earl, Duke, and Lady had grown aware of the news. The one and only Marquess of Estfield, caught in a garden with an unchaperoned spinster.

"You have tainted this house forever. I hope you know that." Peter said, bringing Juliet back to the present. Right before her was a boiling cup of tea and some cloves of fish that hadn't been touched since they landed on her table.

"I can't believe this is happening. Look at this." Adam cut in, in his usual chipper self, showing Peter a passage in the gossip sheets.

"People believe the marriage proposal is only but a veil to cover the shame the two culprits had brought on their respective houses."

Juliet frowned at the giant title on the paper. Especially at one particular word.

Unchaperoned.

She had her father with her. All she did was sneak out for some air, and somehow, it had ruined her and her family for life.

"This is your doing, Juliet. How am I going to face the other Lords the next time I meet them."

Juliet brought a white handkerchief to her mouth, cleaning off imaginary food smears.

"This is all one big misunderstanding." She said, her voice as meek as it could be.

"If you knew what was best for you, you would remain quiet. You have done enough damage already." Peter continued, his voice rising with each word.

Juliet didn't reply. She knew better. She cast a glare that could turn one into stone at Adam and his wife. She could tell they were enjoying this moment.

"Now, you're going to marry a complete stranger. We don't know anything of Lord Weston Edgeworth. I hope this makes you happy."

Juliet stared at her food one more time. Suddenly, the meager desire to eat that she once had disappeared.

Without saying a word. She rose and exited the dining hall. Her shoes knocked on the floor angrily as she skirted past the hallways and towards the balcony, to her sanctuary. Tears threatened to escape her eyes, and she didn't want to give her family that satisfaction.

"Milady." She heard Estelle call. Her feet froze on the ground.

"Estelle." She replied, watching her maid approach her.

Estelle handed her a small lace scarf once she got close enough. The tears forming around Juliet's eyes were now beginning to flow freely.

"I just wanted you to know I'm on your side." Estelle whispered. "Today and always."

Juliet nodded, gently dabbing her face with the scarf. "Thank you."

"Do you need me to come with you to the garden?"

Juliet tried to return the scarf to Estelle, but she motioned for her to hold on to it.

"No." Juliet replied. "I think I need to be alone for this one."

Estelle nodded and watched her mistress head down the hallway one more time. Juliet wanted to scream. She tried to yank her clothes off and throw her head against the wall. Everything was happening so fast. Her story was on every tongue in the entire town. They knew everything.

At least, what they've been led to believe.

She entered the garden and felt the familiar fragrance from the flowers infiltrate her nostrils. She needed to talk. She needed to vent. She needed to scream and be allowed to feel all the emotions going through her.

She needed her mother.

Her hands gently grazed through the flowers, memories of the pleasant times she once had with her mother pouring in like heavy rain. She could almost hear Celia tell her about the history behind each flower as they trudged through the garden. It had always been her mother's most prized possession. Now, it was hers, and if things kept going this way, it wouldn't be anymore. Juliet thought of the words being said about her, the pictures people were painting.

Caught in the gardens alone with a respectable marquess

At least, that was how the gossip sheets had eloquently put it. At that moment, a wave of uncertainty swept through her.

Was she going to get through this?

***

Weston could feel the headache coming. It was only a matter of time before he needed to lie down. For a minute, he prayed the headache would take him right there and then. The drawing room at the Estfield Manor had been his abode for the past few hours.

His mother was right in front of him, pacing back and forth in despair. Too focused on his head pounding over and over, he was unable to take in what she was saying. He decided to push through it and listen again.

"I cannot believe this is what you've turned our family into." Beatrice started, waving her hands in desperation. "How could you let such weakness take over you?"

"Mother, the news is completely misconstrued." He started.

"I saw you, Weston. The entire society saw you with her. And you're going to sit there and tell me what we all saw was a lie?" Beatrice continued.

Weston shook his head. "Yes. That is what I'm telling you."

"You have tarnished our image, Weston. Look at this." Beatrice screamed, waving a piece of browned paper before her son. Weston didn't need to wonder. He knew exactly what it was. A piece of the gossip sheets. The one detailing his rendezvous with Juliet.

"Do you know how many Lords, how many Ladies in London are reading this right now?" Beatrice asked, still waving the paper aimlessly.

Weston tapped his forehead, trying to push back the headache threatening to attack his head. Going up against his mother had always been a futile attempt. The best thing he could do was sit and take it in silence.

"And then you go ahead and propose a marriage? Do you have any idea just how much damage you've caused?" Beatrice asked.

Weston shrugged. "On the bright side, you've always wanted me to get married."

"Yes! To a respected lady. No one in town is going to ever take Lady Juliet seriously anymore. And since you're taking her as a wife, you will receive the same treatment." Beatrice continued. "Oh, Lord. Where did I fail as a parent?"

Weston knew, right from the moment he made that proposal, in the gardens, in the presence of way too many people, that any idea of freedom he once envisioned had vanished. Life as he knew it was about to change for him, and not for the better. He knew whatever would come after this wouldn't be easy, not for him and certainly not for Juliet.

"To think you had a perfectly great mate in Lady Helena, and you wasted it all for some… wallflower?!" Beatrice continued, the frustration in her voice still evident.

Weston said nothing. Instead, he reclined further in his chair and let his mother spew her venom on him. This was the price he had to pay for making one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

He wished his friend was here. Charles still had a day left in his journey, and judging by how news travels around London, he could guess Charles would've caught wind of everything by now.

"You have failed this house, Weston." Beatrice continued, but her words didn't matter to him. They stopped having that effect a few years ago. All that was running through his mind was the thought of the social torture he would have to go through in the coming days.

As his mother continued to berate him, he thought about Juliet and how she was handling this. Was her father also spewing bile at her, like his mother was doing to him? Was she going to get ostracized from society? Was she going to get through this?

To think, if he never went to sit with her, none of this would've happened. He only had to deal with a few problems of his own before the masquerade ball.

Now, he had become overwhelmed.