“Well, look who’s awake and dressed,” Frederick said, not glancing up. He brushed a light brown curl off his forehead. “You do have impeccable timing, brother. I was becoming concerned the schedule you’ve set for yourself was destroying your appetite.”
Sol slid into his seat just as a plate of cold fish and toast was set in front of him. He mumbled motzi beneath his breath so that Frederick couldn’t hear and be made uncomfortable.
“It’d take a great deal more than a few late nights for that,” he joked. “And enjoying a meal is one of my better skills. I even manage to use the proper utensil sometimes.” When his brother rewarded him with a half chuckle, Sol’s stomach settled a touch—but not enough to erase the guilt over how his late night actionsmight have endangered Frederick’s efforts with Lady Drucilla.
A better brother would have tried harder to stay away—would have, after failing to secure a union with Isabelle Lira, found a better plan than working months on wooing clients for Lira & Berab Sureties while balancing the books for the Weiss Bank.
A better brother would have married for the good of their family.
Losers crumble, Sol. Winners find a way.His brother’s words from so long ago, spoken after he’d taken a particularly bad fall from a horse when he was eleven, echoed in his head. And Frederick had been right. If he’d given up, yielded to his injuries, he’d never have mastered the ability. Never have had the enjoyment of trotting around the park in the early afternoon, nor the access it brought both brothers. When he paid enough attention not to fall.
“I’m sorry, Frederick. I know I haven’t been pulling my weight as I promised.” He fiddled with his knife. “I understand now that time is of the essence, so whatever I can do—”
“I have already told you what to do, a hundred times.” His brother finally looked up from his reading. “Yes, you failed with the Lira girl, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t at least fifty better women that could gain us far more than she. You’d already be betrothed to one if you would just put in the proper effort.” Frederick heaved a sigh before frowning. “Though… perhaps I’ve expected too much of you? So much responsibility at such an early ageisa great burden.”
Sol swallowed as memories roared back. How, days after his father’s death and a year after his mother’s,the nurse—a woman, he would learn had not been paid in over three months—handed him over to his older brother.
He’d seemed so tall, so adult, even though, in retrospect, he’d merely been a floppy-haired teenager with dark circles beneath his eyes.
In that moment, Frederick had become his anchor in the world. He’d knelt in front of Sol and placed his hands on his shoulders, staring right into his eyes.
We may be down, but I promise, we are not out. Together, we will rebuild everything so we’re the envy of everyone. Because losers crumble, Sol. Winners find a way.
Sol glanced down at his food, his appetite leaving. “I’ll try harder. Attend more events. I spoke with Roger Berab last night, and he’s promised to assist me with the smart gentile set, so perhaps he can also introduce me to a potential wife. I don’t completely trust him, but my successes also benefit his business, so he has every reason to help.”
Frederick’s eyes narrowed, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. “One would think you’ve now become more loyal to the Liras and Berabs and that Ellenberg fellow than you are to the family, given how much time and attention you pay them. Given how much you defer to their opinions.”
“It’s not that, I promise.” Sol raised his palms as his chest twisted. “You—the family—we always come first. Always. I would never choose them over us. I’d never want to hurt you or jeopardize your happiness. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”
“Don’t be melodramatic, Solomon.” His brother sniffed, then looked at him in sympathy. “It’s no wonderyou fall prey so easily to those who seek to use you. Your emotions make it easy for others to manipulate you—Roger Berab likely thought you easy prey.” He smiled softly. “It’s for your own protection that I insist you stay away from him. Luckily all is not lost. There’s no engagement, but I did gain Penrose’s permission to court Lady Drucilla.”
Thank god.Sol’s lungs finally filled for the first time since he sat down. “That’s wonderful news, Frederick.”
“And while a Lira-sized influx of funds would have smoothed things with the viscount, I can forgive those failures. After all, you’re young. Perhaps my expectations of you of latehavebeen too great,” Frederick added, dotting his mouth with his napkin. “However, the viscount has made it clear that he would prefer a different husband for his sister. And I fear, if my house is not completely in order, the case for his candidate will only improve, despite his sister’s feelings.”
“What more do you need me to do?” Sol asked. “Whatever you need, Frederick, I’m here.”
His brother gave him a bemused shake of the head. “That won’t be necessary. While I appreciate your eagerness, this courtship is delicate, and given your foolishness with Roger Berab last night, I’d be best served if you merely stayed out of scrutiny, and trouble, for a little while. It’ll be good for you. You’ve been tired as of late. All that time you’ve been spending with those people and their sureties’ company.” Frederick tutted a little. “You’re yawning at all hours. Thankfully our customers haven’t noticed. Yet. Especially as the attention I’m garnering has piqued the interest of some of our old enemies. You know how dearly there are those who want nothing more than to see us fail.”
Sol winced. Despite his baptism, and distance from the community, he knew there were those who would always view Frederick as fundamentally a predatory usurper. If he was a better brother, Sol would stop his own practice, but… he could not help but hold on to that last remaining link to his mother or the comfort he found in their traditions.
“Regardless, you’ve been… careless as of late,” his brother continued. “Not that you’ve ever been particularly conscientious but these past few months… you’ve not quite been yourself. Unaware. You were nearly run down by a carriage last night stepping into the street. And didn’t you fall off a horse recently?”
“You sound like Aaron,” Sol said before grimacing when he met his brother’s glare. “I didn’t—I was just—Aaron merely mentioned the riding accident, and suggested it was due to lack of sleep, and you think alike—not that you are like him in any way—”
“See, this is what I mean,” Frederick said with a tut and a shake of his head. “You’ve forgotten all your training. All the work we put into you.”
“You’re right.” Sol nodded. “I’ll be more selective with social obligations. I’ll throw myself into my work and go to sleep early as many nights as I can.”
Frederick gave him a long, appraising glance. “Remember what we have been working toward. Be careful not to take any actions which would be controversial in the eyes of the viscount and his set. While they are more open-minded than most, most still don’t trust us. Actually, it’s rather amazing Lady Drucilla has been so open to me.” His brother’s eyes softened in clear fondness for the woman. “The fact that she’s so willing—” He shook his head.
“We must be extremely careful and not abuse that generosity. I understand why you childishly cling to such displays of your birth. Like your mother used to.” He narrowed his eyes. “But I’d ask you to confine your indulgences to our house. That includes hiding that thing in polite company.” He pointed to the yarmulke on Sol’s head.
He supposed it wasn’t an unfair request. He could keep the obligation with a hat, after all. And while it felt right for him, even before his Baptism, his brother had seen the traditions as humiliatingly backwards at best, and as a burden at worst. It wasn’t fair to upset him when he was already under so much strain.
“I promise.” Sol ran his fingers over his utensils as unease stirred in his stomach. He didn’t want to remind his brother of his failures—or suggest Frederick had not considered all the angles—but he wasn’t sure Roger Berab had ill intent.
Pushing a confidence he did not quite feel into his voice—despite the fact that this was the man who’d taught him that very trick, he added, “And the Liras and Berab families can be social assets as well as business. That’s why I sought to align with them in the first place. Many titled gentiles use their surety company, and they’re very keen on politics. They have goals of their own that require the proper respectability of people like Penrose. Jewish emancipation is not dead despite the failure of the Duke of Sussex’s most recent bill in Parliament. Another bill offering Jews the ability to vote and hold office could be brought. It’s not in their interest to upset anyone right now.”
