Loving Lord Egleton: A Regency Romance (Regency Matchmakers Book 3), Laura Beers [ap literature book list .TXT] 📗

Martin shook his head. “You are wrong, and I will not support your decision to arrange a marriage for her.”

“You would defy me on this?”

“I would, if it meant saving Marianne from a terrible mistake.”

His father’s eyes narrowed. “An advantageous marriage is never a mistake.” He pointed at him. “I would ensure she married for a title.”

“Marianne doesn’t care a fig about a title!” Martin exclaimed. “She would rather have a father who was present in her life.”

“You know not what you are speaking of.”

“I do,” he pressed. “Unlike you, I listen to Marianne.”

His father didn’t say anything as he picked up the decanter and poured himself another drink. “I shall discuss this with Marianne, but that doesn’t mean I will concede yet,” he said, picking up the glass.

Martin nodded, feeling as if he had secured his first victory with his father.

His father gulped down his drink and placed the glass onto the tray. “I am not the tyrant you are making me out to be.”

“I never said the word ‘tyrant’.”

His father gave him a pointed look. “You never had to, but I can see it in your eyes.” He came over and sat across from him on an upholstered armchair. “Life has not exactly been kind to me.”

“In what way?”

“Your grandfather had certain expectations that we had to live up to, and we had no choice but to follow them,” his father shared. “Frankly, I wouldn’t have dared to defy him.”

Martin remained quiet, hoping that his father would continue to confide in him.

“When I was informed that I was to marry your mother, I was overjoyed. I had always fancied her, and I knew we would suit. Which we did, splendidly, for many years.”

“You mentioned Phoebe’s death changed that,” Martin prodded. “Why?”

His father was silent for a moment. “It was truly my fault that Phoebe died.”

“No, it wasn’t…”

His father put his hand up, stilling his words. “I was the one who purchased the new gelding for her and encouraged her to race her horse through the fields,” he shared. “If she hadn’t done so, then she would have never fallen off and hit her head.”

“Phoebe would have raced through the fields with or without your encouragement. In fact, she did so all the time,” Martin said. “She had no fear when she rode her horse.”

“I could have stopped her, but I didn’t,” his father said. “I should have forbidden it.”

Martin smiled. “That would have tempted Phoebe even more.”

His father lowered his gaze to his hands, which were balled into tight fists. “I haven’t been able to look at your mother since without feeling immense guilt for what I have done,” he said.

“I think it is time you have a frank conversation with Mother,” Martin encouraged.

“You may be right,” his father admitted, “but she might not forgive me so easily.”

His mother’s voice came from the doorway. “There is nothing to forgive,” she said. “You did nothing wrong.”

His father’s head shot up. “You overheard what I said?”

“Not every word, but I heard the part about Phoebe.”

Rising, his father walked over to her. “Then you know my shame and why I hid it from you for all these years.”

She smiled. “I do not fault you at all for what happened with Phoebe,” she said. “I agree with Martin that Phoebe would have raced through the fields with or without your encouragement. She loved riding her horse at outlandish speeds.”

Tears came to his father’s eyes, something Martin hadn’t seen since Phoebe’s death. “I am sorry.”

His mother opened her arms and her father stepped into them. As they embraced one another, Martin could see tears streaming down both of their faces.

After a long moment, his father stepped back. “It might be best if we continued this conversation on our own.”

“I would like that very much,” his mother agreed.

Martin watched with a full heart as his parents left the room. He’d had no idea his father was harboring such guilt for Phoebe’s death, but he was pleased his mother had been so understanding.

He glanced over at the long clock in the corner and knew he should get some sleep before departing for Harrowden Hall in the morning.

“Are you happy?” Hannah asked her sister as they walked near a stream.

Amelia smiled broadly. “Deliriously so,” she replied. “There is such joy in being a wife and stepmother.”

“I am happy to hear that.”

“You will have that one day, as well,” Amelia assured her with a side glance.

“I’m not so sure.”

Amelia stopped and turned to face her. “You must not give up hope on finding love.”

Hannah shifted her gaze towards the stream. “I truly thought Martin was my one true love match.”

“You are still young and have many Seasons ahead of you.”

“I know, but it doesn’t hurt any less.”

Amelia resumed walking. “I hope the birds warbling outside of your window did not wake you up.”

“They did.”

“I do apologize for that. I tried to pick a bedchamber away from the trees for that specific purpose.”

“It’s all right,” Hannah assured her. “I have realized that birds chirping isn’t the most vexing sound in the world.”

Amelia eyed her curiously. “Is that so?”

“I learned that Father used to place me by the window to soothe me,” she explained. “So now when I hear the sounds of birds warbling, it reminds me of Father.”

“I am pleased that you are finally comfortable enough to talk about our parents.”

“As am I,” she replied. “Martin helped me realize that the more I speak about them, the more alive the memories of them become.”

Amelia bobbed her head. “I would agree with that.”

“I just miss them dearly,” Hannah murmured, “especially at times like this.”

“It takes time to heal a shattered heart,” Amelia counseled. “You must give yourself time and be patient.”

“You are right, of course.”

Amelia gave her an encouraging smile. “I do not take any joy in being right about this,” she revealed. “I remember the pain I felt when Edmund rejected me after he discovered the truth of who I was. I thought my