by Laura Beers
“Well, I’ve always held Martin in high regard, and I was devastated when he asked us to help him.”
“I’m not surprised,” Amelia said. “I always suspected you felt something for him.”
“Regardless, I was unable to put him out of my mind, no matter how hard I tried.”
“That is usually the case.”
Hannah laid back on the bed. “Then he kissed me—”
Amelia cut her off. “He kissed you?”
“He did, but afterwards he told me it was a terrible mistake,” Hannah shared.
“That was poorly done on his part.”
“I would agree, but it changes nothing,” Hannah said. “Martin is adamant that nothing can happen between us.”
“Has he even given you a reason?”
“He doesn’t want to jeopardize our friendship.”
Amelia frowned. “It’s a little late for that.”
“I agree.”
“Well, you are entirely welcome at Harrowden Hall for as long as you want,” Amelia asserted.
“I do appreciate you letting me stay here.”
Amelia waved her hand in front of her. “I am happy you are here. I truly am.”
A knock came at the door before it opened, revealing Sarah. “The water is being prepared for your bath, miss.” She dropped into a curtsy. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Your Grace.”
Amelia smiled warmly at her. “Thank you for escorting my sister to the countryside.”
“You’re welcome.”
“The dinner bell should be ringing in about an hour,” Amelia said as she rose. “I do so hope that you will join us.”
“I have every intention to.”
“Excellent,” Amelia replied as she departed. “I shall leave you to it.”
“I see that Her Grace took no issue with you arriving unannounced,” Sarah remarked.
“No, she did not.”
“She looks well.”
Hannah nodded. “She looks like a woman in love,” she acknowledged wistfully.
“I would agree.”
Another knock came at the door and Sarah opened it. “Your bath is here, miss,” she announced, opening the door wide.
17
Martin sat in his study, drink in hand, with a lone candle burning next to him on the table. He was waiting for his father to arrive home so he could speak to him. He didn’t dare depart for Harrowden Hall without informing his father of his decision to offer for Hannah.
Hannah.
He couldn’t lose her. In a short period of time, she had become the most important person in his life, and he knew that life would be dismal without her by his side. How he hadn’t recognized this fact sooner was beyond him. He had been a fool to waste even one moment with Hannah.
His father stepped into the room looking annoyed. “Moreland informed me that you wished to speak to me.”
“I do.”
“What do you wish to discuss?” his father asked, sitting across from him.
Martin placed his drink on the table. “I wanted you to know that I have come to a decision about Lady Isabella.”
“You have?”
“I will not be marrying her.”
His father scowled. “Then you have ruined us.”
“That is not the case,” Martin informed him. “I have spoken to Mr. Scott, and he felt it would be best if we sold the estate in Buckley. It is hardly profitable, and it would secure the funds needed to pay off your gambling debts.”
“That is unacceptable,” his father declared. “That estate is entailed and has been in our family for generations.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t have gambled away a small fortune, then,” Martin remarked dryly.
His father stiffened. “I don’t understand why you refuse to do your duty and marry Lady Isabella.”
“I am doing my duty to this family, but that doesn’t mean I will sacrifice my own happiness because of your missteps.”
“I assume this means you will offer for Lady Emma.”
“No,” Martin replied with a shake of his head. “I intend to offer for Miss Blackmore.”
His father nodded in approval. “That is a much better choice,” he replied. “She is an heiress in her own right.”
“I am not marrying Miss Blackmore for her money,” Martin asserted. “I am marrying her because I love her.”
“Then you are a fool,” his father huffed.
“I disagree.”
“Love fades, and you will be left with the knowledge of what you once had,” his father declared. “It is far better to marry someone you have a mutual toleration for.”
Martin shook his head. “You’re wrong.”
“I’m not.”
“Regardless, I intend to offer for Miss Blackmore tomorrow.”
His father rose and stepped over to the drink cart. “You are a disappointment, son,” he said as he poured himself a drink.
“In what way?”
“I did my duty to this family,” his father stated. “I managed all the properties and investments so your grandfather could immerse himself in politics, I married who he told me to, and I did so without complaint.”
“You were wrong to do so.”
His father picked up his glass and took a sip. “I don’t believe I was.”
“Did you ever love Mother?”
A reflective look came to his eyes. “I did,” he replied. “We were happy for a long time, but it all changed when Phoebe died.”
“Why was that?”
His father’s expression became guarded. “I don’t wish to talk about it.”
“You speak of duty, yet you abandoned us after Phoebe died.”
“I did no such thing,” his father objected, his voice rising.
“You did,” Martin asserted. “You started drinking more heavily and hardly spent any time with us.”
His father took a sip of his drink. “You know not what you speak of.”
“You’re wrong,” Martin said. “You changed after Phoebe died, and I hardly recognize the man you’ve become.”
“I am the same man.”
“No, you’re not,” Martin argued.
His father slammed his empty glass down on the drink cart. “You cannot imagine the pain that is associated with losing a child.”
“That is true.”
“After Phoebe died, I was forced to go on living, but I had no desire to do so,” his father revealed. “How is anyone expected to move on after tragedy strikes?”
“We all lost Phoebe that day, Father.”
His father shook his head. “She was my daughter. It was my job to protect her, and I failed.”
“You did all that you could.”
“I didn’t do enough,” his father said emotionally.
Martin leaned forward in his seat. “What happened to Phoebe wasn’t your fault,” he assured him. “It was an unfortunate accident.”
“Is that supposed to make it right?”
“No, but you must understand that your grief is consuming you.”
His father scoffed. “I think not.”
“You hardly make an effort to spend time with Marianne anymore,” Martin pointed out, “and when you do, you usually spend the duration criticizing her.”
“That’s because she’s an insolent girl,” his father said. “She needs a firm hand to guide her. That is precisely the reason why she needs to be married.”
“If you force Marianne to marry, you will lose her.”
“I don’t believe that to be the case,” his father replied. “Marianne knows what is expected of her, and she will do her duty.”
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.�
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“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 world was crumbling down around me and nothing would ever be made right again.”
“How did you get through it?”
“Well, fortunately, Edmund came to his senses and came after me,” Amelia said. “It hardly took me a moment to realize that I desperately needed him in my life.”
“I’m glad that it’s worked out the way it has. Although, I do miss you living with us in Town.”
Amelia tilted her head towards the sun. “I love being out in the countryside. It fills me with a renewed sense of purpose.”
“What about all the bugs?”
Her sister laughed. “Only you would ask such a ridiculous question.”
“I still believe it to be a valid question.”
“You would be surprised to learn that I enjoy catching frogs by the stream with Sybil.”
Hannah shuddered. “That sounds awful,” she declared. “Aren’t they slimy?”
“They are, and they smell awful.”
“Then why do you do it?”
Amelia gave a half shrug. “Because it makes Sybil happy, and I do love making her smile.”
“You are a good stepmother.”
“It is easy when Edmund is such an attentive father to her.” Amelia turned her attention towards Harrowden Hall and waved at the duke and his young daughter. “Speaking of, they are about to join us on our walk.”
“Wonderful,” Hannah said.
Sybil ran up and eagerly asked, “Do you want to make a wish, Aunt Hannah?”
“I suppose so.”
The young girl held up a fluffy white dandelion. “If you blow all the seeds off with a single breath, then your wish will come true.”
“Is that so?”
Sybil bobbed her head. “I wished that Amelia and my father would get married and look what happened!”
Hannah smiled at the girl’s exuberance. “Your wish did come true.”
“As will yours.”<
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Not wanting to dash the girl’s dreams, Hannah reached for the dandelion. “I suppose I have no choice but to make a wish, then.”
The duke spoke up as he reached for Amelia’s hand. “Not to put any undue pressure on you, but we’ve all had our wishes come true.”
Hannah smiled at the remark. “I am glad to hear that.” She sucked in a breath and then blew on the dandelion, watching all the seeds take flight.
“Did you make a wish?” Sybil asked.
“I did.”
Sybil put her finger up to her lips. “You must not tell anyone, or else it won’t come true.”
Hannah crouched down next to Sybil. “Thank you for letting me use your dandelion to make a wish.”
“Father told me that you were sad, and I thought it would make you happy,” Sybil said, swaying from side to side.
The duke cleared his throat. “You weren’t supposed to say that to Hannah.”
Sybil’s eyes went wide as she rushed to say, “I’m sorry.”
Reaching out, Hannah put a hand on her sleeve. “You have no reason to apologize,” she said. “I am just thankful I have such a thoughtful niece.”
“If you want, we could look for more dandelions and you could make more wishes,” Sybil suggested.
“That won’t be necessary, because there is only one thing that I want,” Hannah said.
Martin’s voice came from behind her. “Which is?” he asked, his breathing labored.
“Martin!” Hannah exclaimed as she rose and turned around to face him. “Why are you breathing so hard?”
“I ran here.”
“From London?” she asked incredulously.
Martin looked amused by her remark. “No, I saw you down here as I approached the main door.”
“Oh, I see,” she replied.
Sybil tugged down on the side of Hannah’s dress. “Who is that?”
Martin turned his attention towards the girl. “I am Hannah’s friend,” he replied. “I was hoping to speak to her for just a moment.”
“What do you want to talk about?” Sybil asked innocently.
Amelia had been whispering in her husband’s ear, and now the duke stepped forward and reached for Sybil’s hand. “Why don’t we give Lord Egleton and your Aunt Hannah a moment alone?”
Sybil nodded. “I think that might be wise.” She lowered her voice. “It seems like he really wants to speak to her.”