What a Reckless Rogue Needs (The Sinful Scoundrels, #2)(39)

She followed him inside and turned to him. “You are judgmental.”

His nostrils flared. “I am judgmental? You judge me unfairly, my lady. All I did was state the facts, but you presume to know my feelings about my own family.”

“What was I to think when you spoke in such a cold manner about Margaret? The circumstances of your father’s second marriage do not matter. Your father adores her, as well he should. She brought happiness and light into your father’s life after your mother’s death. But for reasons I do not understand, you hold yourself aloof from your own family.”

“You know nothing about it.”

He’d said he was selfish, and she certainly believed it now. “You have not been home since last Easter. Your sisters are growing up without even knowing their brother, and I suspect you resent Margaret.”

“I don’t resent her, but we are not close and never have been.”

How could he be so unfeeling? “Whose fault is that? You make no effort.”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe she was the one who didn’t make the effort?”

She shook her head. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I think it is ridiculous to expect it of an eight-year-old.”

“What?” He’d shocked her.

“My father started a second family while I was away at school. I did not even know about it until he brought me home from Eton for Christmas holidays. He told me I had a new mother, but I was eight years old and didn’t even know how to address her. Was I to call her Stepmama or Margaret? No one ever thought to tell me for days.”

“I cannot believe it of her or your father.”

“I have no reason to lie about it. I lived it—you didn’t.”

“How could it be possible? Margaret is too kind to ignore a child.”

“She didn’t ignore me, but she was not my mother, and I wasn’t her son.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“It happened long ago, but it is clear to me now why it was so awkward. She was educated as a lady, but there is a big difference between that education and learning the distinctions of society. I can imagine how difficult it was for her to assimilate. She had to have been terrified. Have you never stopped to think about why she relies so much on your mother?”

“They are friends.”

“Yes, but that friendship likely came about because your mother saw the need to help her. In those early days, she was much younger and probably overwhelmed and intimidated.”

“You were a child. How could you know?” she asked.

“I remember when several ladies called when we were in London. I was probably eight or nine years old. After they left, I saw Margaret sitting in the drawing room weeping.”

Angeline smoothed her skirt. “I had no idea.”

“We were born into this world, but she had to learn. On top of it all, she had to deal with an unhappy stepson.”

Angeline winced, realizing she’d made assumptions without knowing all the particulars. “Please forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive. It was just circumstances. I spent most of my time at school and half my summers with Harry at his uncle’s pig farm,” he said. “I was happy there and for the most part at school as well, but over time, my relationship with my family grew increasingly distant. I adore my sisters, but they are half my age. I’m glad my father found happiness with Margaret, but their lives went on and so did mine. No one is to blame. It was just the situation.”

Angeline felt awful. “I’m sorry for misjudging you.”

He scuffed his boot on the carpet. “You weren’t wrong. I was resentful for many years. I felt as if I did not belong. Undoubtedly it was an erroneous perception on my part.”

“I think it would be difficult for all involved when there are such drastic changes to a family,” she said.

“When I arrived at Deerfield, I was shocked at how much my sisters had grown.” He paused and said, “I should make more of an effort.”

“I am sorry. I have no right to judge anyone when I’ve made grievous mistakes.”

“Regardless, you didn’t deserve to be treated so ill.”

“I am responsible.”

“You mustn’t blame yourself,” he said.

She deserved no sympathy. From the beginning, she’d been suspicious of Brentmoor, as any sane and virtuous woman would be, but she’d let vanity and pride overcome her judgment. All because she knew others were whispering about her single status at the ripe age of thirty. She’d not heeded her mother’s warnings about waiting too long to marry, and she’d paid dearly for it.

“It’s not your fault,” he said.

If she’d married sooner, she could have avoided her mistakes. “I take responsibility, but it is not enough,” she said. “There is nothing I can do to change it.”

“No, but you can go forward. Don’t let him ruin your life.”

He didn’t understand. She could never reconcile what she’d done to her family.





Chapter Six





Breakfast the next morning

Colin finished his baked eggs, sausages, and roll. He drank his tea and smiled at Angeline. “I’m anxious to get started for the day.”