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Marianne pulled back, the answer foreign to her own desires. “Do you not love him?”

Beatrice raised her lips into half a smile. “I believe I do. Or rather, I did. At least to a degree. I found freedom with him. Something I had never experienced before. But that faded as I realized that I could not give my heart fully to a man with whom I could not truly be happy.”

Marianne’s heart reached out to her. Beatrice had been looking for freedom, just as Marianne had. They’d suffered such a similar grief, yet they’d each had to mourn alone. How could they have both been struggling without the other knowing?

Beatrice’s eyes took on a distant look. “But even though I prevented myself from fully falling, that does not mean it did not hurt to say goodbye. That night we spoke in the drawing room?” Marianne nodded before Beatrice continued. “Charlie had proposed. I declined, telling him what I had told him from the beginning—that we could not marry.”

Marianne’s heart bowed at the pain still reflecting in Beatrice’s eyes. No wonder their argument had been so bitter, so raw. “Is that why you told Father you would never marry?”

“Yes.” Beatrice winced. “I am not proud of this, but I was saying so to injure Father. When he discovered that I’d fallen for a stable hand, he’d reacted the very same as he had with you, shouting and threatening. He did not give me the opportunity to tell him that I had already decided against marrying Charlie. In impulsive retaliation, I proclaimed that I would never marry. In truth, I still have hope to do so one day.”

Marianne thought for a moment, an errant smile spreading across her lips. “That must have been satisfying to let Father stew in such a way.”

Beatrice gave a half-smile. “As I said, I am not proud of my behavior…but it was rather satisfying to have his face turn so unflattering a shade of red.”

She shared a small laugh before Beatrice sobered. “I truly am sorry for your loss, sister. If I had known you were falling for Mr. Steele, I could have warned you to prevent any injury.”

Marianne hesitated, her defenses falling in time with her shoulders as she sat beside Beatrice at the window seat. “Your warning would not have helped. You may have prevented yourself from fully falling for Charlie. But I gave my whole heart to Mr. Steele, and I will never get it back.” Tears filled her eyes as the pain returned. “I love him. I will hold out hope and pray harder than I ever have for matters to be resolved so we can have the life we wish to share together.”

Saying the words aloud infused her with renewed hope. But was what she wanted even possible with the world against them both?

“You really love him.”

Marianne nodded. “I will always love him.”

Beatrice studied her for a few moments in silence, as if to determine the truth, then her brow softened. “I’m sorry I did not know your true feelings before all of this. But now that I do, well, I did not marry my stable hand, but we can certainly get you your woodcarver.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Edward never thought he’d be back. It was a strange sensation, walking through Daffley Park again after being expelled from its premises only a week before.

Mr. Morley allowed him inside when he returned, no one else from the family or household in sight, though Edward kept his eyes peeled for any glimpse of Miss Coventry.

Of course, she was nowhere to be found. Mr. Coventry would have made sure of that.

Edward still couldn’t comprehend why he’d been brought back. Mr. Coventry’s correspondence had not explained much at all.

Mr. Steele,

I am certain this letter will come as a surprise to you. After all, I had determined to never make contact with you again. But as matters have slowly been brought to my attention, I have need to speak with you, one man to another. Therefore, I request your presence at Daffley Park at your earliest convenience. There is no need to send your agreement via correspondence, as I am certain you will readily concur with meeting me.

Lastly, I ask that you do not misconstrue this invitation to return to Daffley as forgiveness for your treatment of my family. I assure you, that matter has not been laid to rest in the slightest.

Signed,

Mr. Jacob Coventry

Edward’s head had spun faster than the ratchet wheel of a sawmill when he’d first read the man’s words. Obviously, Mr. Coventry hadn’t changed his mind in regard to Edward being worthy enough to wed Miss Coventry. But then, to what end had he requested his presence?

He’d expressed his worries to Mother, for he did not wish to see Miss Coventry if he could not be with Miss Coventry. But Mother, of course, had encouraged him to drop everything and leave the moment he’d received word. “The commissions will wait, son,” she’d said. “Love will not.”

Edward had boarded the coach the very next day, unwilling to lose his chance at possibly fighting for the love of his life.

Still, as he followed Mr. Morley through the corridors, Edward’s stomach roiled left to right. What could Mr. Coventry want of him? And why was Mr. Morley leading him to the library?

The butler motioned for him to enter, and Edward did so cautiously, though his feet froze a few steps into the room. Mr. Coventry stood directly before him, his hands clasped behind his back, a steady expression on his face.

Memories of their last conversation floated before Edward, and heat slipped up his neck. “Sir,” he greeted with a stilted bow.