Chapter Four
Blackwater, Hampshire
The travelling chariot rattled along the narrow country lane, heading to Blackwater.
Since leaving London a little after dawn, the tension inside the confined space proved suffocating. For the entire three-hour journey, the baron had watched Juliet intently from the seat opposite, one long-fingered hand resting on his knee, the other gripping the silver top of his cane for balance. Hannah occupied three-quarters of the seat next to Juliet, her pelisse spread wide to prevent creasing.
Though it had been hard to say goodbye to Mrs Wendell, Nora and all the other servants who’d made life bearable these last six years, Juliet couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement at her new prospects.
“Remember what you must do.” Her father’s cold voice sliced through the silence. How could she forget when he’d made the original demand with such vehemence? “You have three days, and then I expect to receive word of your progress.”
Juliet nodded. The baron wasn’t the only one capable of deception. While she had agreed to do her father’s bidding—be his spy, his thief—she had no intention of delivering on her promise. Besides, once a lady married was her loyalty not to her husband?
The imposing figure of Devlin Drake entered her mind.
Never had she met a man whose countenance conveyed such strength and power. And yet Juliet found nothing sinister behind those obsidian eyes. Oh, they were dark—so dark. So dark it was as if a thick shroud covered the windows to his soul to prevent anyone who dared to peer inside.
“Three days,” her father repeated. “I think I deserve some reward for permitting you to marry the blackguard.”
“Must you be so vague?” Juliet asked, intrigued to know the reason behind his odd request. “If I’m to find a letter, am I not permitted to know of its contents?”
The baron banged the floor with the bottom of his cane. The dull thud made Juliet jump.
“God damn, girl, can you not simply do as I ask without all the unnecessary questions?” The baron’s eyes brimmed with frustration rather than anger. He inhaled deeply and added in a calmer tone, “I shall be the one to determine its value.”
The whole situation was odd, highly suspicious.
Had Hannah documented her vile diatribe in a letter to Ambrose? Did the baron fear it might serve as evidence in a case of libel? So why insist Juliet search the house for all letters written in a feminine hand?
“Must I remind you where your loyalties lie?” the baron continued in a glacial tone.
Hannah snorted. “This conversation is pointless.” She cast Juliet a disdainful glare. “Do you honestly think a man like Devlin Drake would marry someone like you? This is all a ploy to prove a point, to claim some sort of victory. I guarantee we will not make it over the threshold.”
Juliet had to agree that theirs was an unlikely pairing. And yet when sitting with Mr Drake in the garden, she had felt a tingle of awareness. A connection existed between them though it was as fine and fragile as a spider’s web.
“It would have served our purpose if Drake had remained abroad indefinitely. Somewhere too far away to pry,” the baron moaned. “For your sake, Hannah, you must hope he welcomes your sister with open arms.”
So this was about Hannah’s recklessness.
Juliet hoped she did find the letter. Nothing would please her more than to wipe the arrogant smirk off her sister’s face.
As the chariot suddenly slowed and turned in through a set of majestic iron gates, Juliet lowered the window and leant out, eager to glimpse her new home.
The sight stole her breath.
They passed through an impressive tree tunnel of the most vibrant array of autumnal colours she had ever seen. Slivers of sunlight cut through the canopy to cast the long drive in a warm amber glow. At the end stood a square portico wide enough to serve as a shelter for a carriage on a rainy day.
“Close the window,” Hannah complained. “I’m liable to catch a chill, and I have the Loxton ball on Thursday.”
Juliet ignored her. Hopefully, in a little more than an hour, she would never have to answer to Hannah again.
As they neared the house, Juliet’s thoughts turned to her wedding. Hope burst to life in her chest pushing away all her doubts and fears. At heart, she was a loving, loyal person. Surely she could make the marriage work. Despite being a stranger, Devlin Drake must have seen something good in her to encourage him to make the offer.
When the chariot rumbled to a stop beneath the portico, the butler appeared at the large oak door, one sturdy enough to keep an army at bay. Silas, the baron’s groom, climbed down from his perch, opened the door and lowered the steps.
The baron climbed out.
Hannah pushed forward and exited next.