Not today.
Today, he would refuse to take any more slanderous accusations against his wife. Today, he would stand up to his mother and call her out.
Today, he would speak.
“It is best you return to your food and keep eating, Weston.” Beatrice continued.
“No. I shall not. You have been after her since the wedding.”
“I would not call that disgraceful event a wedding.”
“I do not care! She is my wife. When are you going to understand that you can't just make bad remarks at her or ambush her with horrendous dinner guests.”
“You will transfer your aggression to the Duke and Duchess of Thornewood now?”
“Again, mother, this is not about them. This is about you. You have refused to resign to the fact that I am married, and there is nothing more to do about it.”
“Weston, please—” Anne tried to call again, but her efforts apparently were no help. The conversation was heating up, and someone needed to back down soon enough. She knew it wouldn't be her mother.
“Do not try to play this game with me. You know very well I never intended for you to get yourself attached to a wallflower. Now she walks across the halls of the manor, attaching herself to the most frivolous activities.”
Weston exhaled, his anger expeditiously growing. “Really, Mother? This is about the garden?”
“Among other things, yes.”
Weston pressed his fingers against his forehead. His mother had seen him discussing with Mr. Brown the day after Juliet's injury. She had heard him ask the horticulturist to help deliver the flowers so Juliet could grow them once she cleared it up. He knew she wasn't pleased with his decision, but he didn't think it was enough to warrant the dinner from hell.
“She loves the garden. Why would I deny her the pleasure of tending to it?”
“When has this ever been about Juliet's pleasure? She managed to rope a respectable member of the society into a scandal and got married to him just to protect her dignity. I would say that is enough pleasure for her.”
“So that is why you invited Lady Helena and her parents last night? To sneer and laugh at her?”
Lady Beatrice chuckled, her voice laced with contempt. “You still do not understand, do you? The whole reason I brought Lady Helena here was foryou.I needed you to see what you could've had if you hadn't been so stupidly naive and immensely stubborn.”
Anne felt a gasp escape her mouth.
Weston’s eyes widened. Of course, the dinner was never meant to ambush Juliet alone. His mother had set a trap for him, too.
“Again, mother. I am not interested in Lady Helena.”
“Oh, but you are interested in the wallflower, is that it?”
Weston froze. He wanted to speak, but the words weren't coming out.
“That's what I thought. At least with Lady Helena, you would've had a wife whose attributes was befitting of a proper Marchioness.”
“Enough!” Weston roared, banging his fists on the table as hard as he could. He could see his mother and sister flinch at the act.
“I will not sit here and listen to you cast vile accusations against my wife just because she wasn't the person you intended for me.”
“Mother. Weston, please—” Anne called, raising her voice slightly higher than before.
“You know, why does it even matter anyway? Ever since Eliza died, you have done all you could to set me up with people you deemed suitable.”
“It is not my fault you couldn't properly connect with these women.”
“Or maybe I just didn't want them. Has that thought ever crossed your mind?”
