The Season Standard—the Daily Chronicle of Consequence
At long last, we have our Original! I’m certain this name will come as no surprise to many of you, for haven’t we all be watching her every step this Season? Surely our favorite goddess, Lady G—, is the most deserving of this coveted title . . .
Bram slapped the paper down on the breakfast room table. “What a triumph! Did you see the paper, Mother?”
“I am seeing it now on the table where it does not belong,” she said sternly, eyeing Bram until he picked it up and placed it on the sideboard. “But yes, I am quite pleased for Juliet. I believe this honor has been long awaited. Would you agree, Maxwell?”
Max nodded absently, pretending that his focus was on the ham steak on his plate. In truth, he’d read the Standard first thing this morning. And since then, his stomach had churned with a sense of unease at the events that were about to unfold.
“It is fine for her indeed,” Bram said. “But think of how it will be when I marry not one, but two Originals!”
Max knew Bram’s announcement was forthcoming. His suit would be denied, of course. Yet even prescience in this circumstance did not take away the utter rage and despair he’d been feeling these past few days.
“That is in poor taste, Bramson, considering the fact that your first wife died giving birth to your child,” Mother chided. “In fact, I find this whole rush to be married quite distasteful. And if weren’t for little Patrice, I would forbid it.”
“Forbid.” Bram laughed and pressed a kiss to Mother’s cheek, as if her words were a jest. Then again, Bram only listened to one opinion, and that was his own. “For now, I shall be off to pay a morning call. Are you not going to congratulate me, little brother?”
Max abruptly stood and then clasped his hands behind his back. Then, bowing to Mother, he said, “I will be in my study if you need me.”
But before he could exit the room, Saunders appeared in the doorway, holding a missive in his gloved hand. “An urgent message from Lady Cosgrove, ma’am.”
“Oh dear,” Mother said as she took the note and then repeated herself several times as she read it, all the while shaking her head.
“What is it, Mother?” Max asked, fearing that something dire had happened.
“It is terrible news! Poor Juliet! She has lost everything, her entire fortune.” Mother pressed the page to her breast, tears welling in her eyes. “The banks that closed, the ones that went under . . . Apparently, those were where she kept her money.”
“No! That cannot be. She is rich as Midas!” Bram railed.
Mother drew in a breath, wiping her eyes with the crook of her finger as she settled her gaze on Bram. “You should rush over immediately, for your proposal will come at a most beneficial time. I will follow shortly, and we will begin to make arrangements.”
Bram went white, his grin dissolving into a grimace, as if he were about to retch all over the table.
Max thought only of Juliet and what she must be suffering at this moment. More than anything, she’d wanted to be independent, to have control of her life. But with this news, she would soon be dependent upon her cousin.
Suddenly, Max knew what he had to do. He would give Juliet her house. He’d intended to sign it over all along, but after her stipulations following their intimacies, he hadn’t wanted to leave her in doubt. At least with this, she still could have part of the life she wanted.
Then, by Monday next, he would leave for Lancashire, and finally be free of the hold Juliet had over him.