As soon as the footfalls on the stair went quiet, Roger Berab turned to him. “You and I need to talk. Is there anyone who would benefit from your death?”
“What do you mean?” Sol asked. Oy, what was he about?
Berab folded his arms across his chest. “Threats and the like are well enough reasons to cause someone injury—”
“Says the man who once tried to kill me,” he said with a sniff.
“As we’ve discussed, that was my brother, and again,he merely attempted to maim you.” Berab smoothed his cravat. “And that’s exactly my point—your death will not cause anyone great harm or upset unless you’ve gotten yourself into a mess I don’t know about.”
Sol gaped at the callous words. “My brother—”
“—will be married within the month,” he said with a wag of his finger. “The banns are being called, so there’s no stopping it now. And Isabelle may be fond of you, but your loss would hardly damage the business.”
Sol frowned, but, well, this was exactly what he’d been struggling with. Though Frederick had yet to propose, so what was this nonsense about banns? Berab must be mistaken—though the sentiment remained the same. If not for revenge or as a warning to Frederick—in which case, a more direct message would be all the more effective—whywouldsomeone want to kill him?
“I see your point,” he admitted. “But I’m not sure how my dying for someone else’s benefit is your conclusion. Frederick has controlling ownership, rightly so, at the bank, not that I’m suggestinghim”—a ridiculous idea, indeed—“so he’d gainsay anyone claiming my shares. Beyond that, well…”
He certainly didn’t lack funds. But neither did he have much that he did not already share with Frederick—or that would go to his brother in any case.
“I did judge your intelligence correctly,” Berab said with a bright smile. “And as my workload is light, I’ll do some digging of my own. Perhaps I’ll discover you’re a lost heir or some such nonsense. They like that kind of thing in their fairy stories, don’t they?”
Leaning back in his chair, Berab’s smile sharpened. “That would certainly be an asset if you’re to acquire what you say you want in life—success in our business,success in your own, respectability to assist your brother’s cause, and it seems, retaking your place in the Jewish community. Things that are easier to gain with the right wife.”
Berab folded his hands in his lap and gazed at Sol, as if daring him to challenge the veracity of his statements. Well, he’d been itching to have this debate with Hannah, so he might as well take the practice.
“I do want those things, but I want Hannah as well.” Sol straightened against the headboard. “And I believe I can have both, as not only do I trust my own abilities, but I trust that others, if given the proper chance—and with a little nudging—will see what I see in her.”
They had to. At least the people he loved, the people he respected, had to understand, right?
“And what is that exactly?” Berab’s voice was so reasonable and calm that it was unsettling. How exactly did he manage that?
“That she’s beautiful,” Sol said before rubbing the back of his head, searching for the right words. “Not how you think—though she is—beautiful to look at.”
Oy, not articulate at all. He took a deep breath.
“She’s pretty and clever and has a wicked tongue that I enjoy very much, but it’s more than that. Being with her makes me want to be, well, more alive. More present. More the me I can be,” he continued, the words now flowing from him. “And beyond that, she’s a warrior. Someone who has battled and lost but keeps going. Someone who loves and protects with complete abandon and doesn’t give up.”
He shook his head. “It’s funny, she says she’s resigned to a great deal of things, but when you look at what she does… how can I not love her?”
“You might see that, but the world does not. To them, she’s a villain—what we all are at our core, itching to do evil if not controlled.” Berab shook his head. “She will limit your life.”
Sol reached down and rubbed his ankle. “I disagree.”
Berab paused. “I won’t lie to you.” He placed a hand on his knee. “Not even I could marry her without consequences—ones that would be felt by not only myself, but my family, and perhaps, the entire community. While you don’t have the same level of responsibility I do, there are still those to whom you owe your care, and the more visible you become, the more those numbers grow.” The man paused again. “And the circles your brother travels in… there are people who will snub not just you, but him and his wife-to-be. Even if they denounce the both of you.”
It was as if someone had wrenched Sol’s heart from his body. He closed his eyes. “I love my brother. I owe him everything. If not for him, what would have become of me?”
“If you marry her, you’ll always be a hinderance to him and his ambition,” Berab said firmly.
A yoke around Frederick’s neck, just like he’d been his entire life. He’d worked so hard, for so many years, to repay his brother, to pull his weight, and now, when Frederick needed him most… yet when he pictured a future without Hannah, he saw only bleak gray. He’d promised to find a way, to not be another in the long line of men who’d used and disappointed her, and he loved her. Loved her so much it hurt.
Only victory was impossible. He just didn’t have the cards, no matter how many times he shuffled the deck. What was he going to do?
“I don’t know,” Berab said, sounding oddly sympathetic. Had he spoken aloud? “And while Miss Moses’s name is not one I want connected to mine in any way, you are correct—once someone is revealed as a mere human, someone with a life and wants and friends, instead of a monster on paper, it’s hard to muster the same level of animosity.”
Pushing back his chair, Berab stood. “What I will say is this: take care with whom you trust. And think.”
As if he wasn’t. Oy. Not that he could say that. For whether Berab was a person he could trust or not, it was clear he needed all the allies he could get these days.
