"She plans to leave on Boxing Day. I can’t lose her. So, I'm going to court her and convince her to stay. Prove that I can be trusted." Aubrey met his father's eyes directly. "That I want a real marriage."
His parents were quiet for a long moment.
"Well," Lady Egerton said finally. "That's actually rather romantic. In a pathetic, grovelling sort of way."
"Very pathetic," his father agreed. "But I suppose it shows character, acknowledging one's mistakes and all that."
"We should meet her properly," his mother announced, standing abruptly. "I barely spoke to the girl at your wedding. You fled so quickly I was too embarrassed to face her afterward. Davies!"
The butler appeared as though he'd been waiting outside the door. "My lady?"
"Summon Lady Madeley, please. Tell her Lord and Lady Egerton request her presence."
"Of course, my lady."
Aubrey's stomach clenched. "Mother, perhaps this isn't the best time."
"Nonsense. We'd like to be better acquainted with our daughter-in-law, now that you've recovered your senses." Lady Egerton settled back into her chair. "Besides, I'm curious about the woman who managed to make you grow up."
His father snorted. "Grow up? That's generous. The boy's barely grown a spine."
"A spine is a good start," his mother countered. "Better than what he had two weeks ago."
"I have always had a spine."
"You hid in London for two years," his father said. "That's having a yellow belly, not a spine."
"Richard, be fair." Lady Egerton's voice was mild. "Our son has shown remarkable progress. He's acknowledged his mistakes, declared his love, and is preparing to grovel appropriately. That's quite mature for a man his age."
"Is it?" Lord Egerton raised an eyebrow. "I'll consider him mature when he can maintain this devotion after his wife turns old and grey. Anyone can be in love with a young, pretty thing. Real maturity is loving someone after thirty years of marriage." He glanced at his wife. "Look at your mother. She's thrice the age and size as when we wed, but I still adore her. That's maturity."
Lady Egerton's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I beg your pardon?"
To Aubrey’s relief—and his father’s, he was certain—the door opened, and Eleanor entered. She'd clearly come in haste. Her hair was slightly mussed, her dress practical rather than formal, her expression wary as she took in the scene before her.
"Lord Egerton. Lady Egerton." She curtsied with perfect grace.
Lady Egerton stood and moved toward Eleanor with warmth, taking both her hands. Aubrey watched his wife’s eyes widen. "My dear girl. Thank you for putting up with our idiot son."
Eleanor blinked, clearly thrown by the greeting. "I... you're welcome?"
"He's always been this way, I'm afraid." Lady Egerton guided Eleanor to the chair she'd just vacated. "Stubborn, impulsive, prone to dramatic gestures. His father and I tried to beat some sense into him, but it never quite took."
"Mother—" Aubrey protested weakly.
"Quiet. We're talking about you, not to you." Lady Egerton turned back to Eleanor. "How has he been? As a patient? Terrible, I imagine. Complaining constantly?"
"He's been..." Eleanor glanced at Aubrey, and something soft crossed her face. "He's been surprisingly good. Cooperative. Patient. Even when the pain was severe."
"Remarkable." Lord Egerton muttered, studying Eleanor with open interest. "According to your husband, you are quite skilled in managing both the patient and the estate. Impressive work. Very impressive."
Eleanor's cheeks flushed with pleasure. "Thank you, my lord. I've tried to maintain proper standards."
"You've exceeded them." Lord Egerton's voice was firm. "I can tell just by looking that the estate is in better condition than when my son inherited it. You should be proud of what you've accomplished."
"While dealing with an absent husband," Lady Egerton added pointedly. "Which makes it even more impressive."
Eleanor's flush deepened. "I simply did what needed to be done."
