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. Thatiswhat 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 takingher 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? Wasshe 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.
Chapter Six
Juliet adjusted her seating position after the carriage skipped through several rocks.
“Sorry about that, my lady.” The horseman yelled from the front, his hands gripping the ropes as tight as he could.
Juliet didn't reply. She was too deep in thought to do so.
I would like to marry Lady Juliet.
Like a dog barking repeatedly, Weston's words echoed in her mind and brain.
I would like to marry Lady Juliet.
What was he thinking, anyway, proposing marriage? If he were going to do so, he would've at least waited.
She was beginning to long for the times she had to herself right after the event. Sometimes, as she passed people walking down the street, she couldn't help but wonder if she was being judged. The carriage was tightly shut, so it wasn't like anyone could see her. The Willowbrook insignia, however, was visible on every side. Perhaps people judged her as she rode past. She couldn't help but wonder what was being said about her.
“She has ruined her family's name. Dragged it through the mud like a ruined walking stick.”
