He didn’t meet his mother’s gaze. “Why would you think I’d know about that?”

His mother had picked up her stitching, one of her favorite pastimes. She shrugged one shoulder. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps because I heard that you and Jane looked quite enamored with each other when you danced on the night of the wedding.”

Garrett widened his eyes. “Enamored?”

His mother shrugged the other shoulder. “Yes, and what’s this about you going and getting yourself engaged to Isabella Langford?”

“It’s not yet official.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

His head snapped up. “Mother?”

His mother kept her eyes trained on the embroidery in front of her. “I don’t care for that woman, Garrett. Jane Lowndes, however, would make a fine wife. I’ve always liked her quite a lot.”

“Mother! I never knew—”

“I know. I know. I tend to keep my mouth shut and allow you to go about your business without any unnecessary interference from me. You are a grown man, after all. But you’re still my son, and if I see you making a mistake, it seems I can’t keep quiet. Marrying Isabella Langford would be a mistake. Not to mention I’ve never noticed you to be a bit infatuated with the woman.”

“I’m not,” he admitted. “But it’s not quite that simple.”

“Oh?”

Garrett laughed. “You’re completely transparent, Mother. I can tell how desperately you want to ask me why.”

Her eyes sparkled with mirth. “Well, now that the question is on the table.”

Garrett took a deep breath. “Harold Langford … he…” Garrett closed his eyes.

“He what, dear?”

“He died saving my life.” There it was. It had been a secret he’d carried so long and now he’d told two different women in as many days. He had to admit to himself, it felt good to say it, to finally have it off his chest.

His voice quavering slightly, Garrett recounted the tale of the day Harold died. She listened intently with tears in her eyes before setting her embroidery aside, leaning over, and squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry, Garrett. Sorry for you and sorry for Harold Langford and his family. But you didn’t make the decision that day, he did.”

“You can’t know the guilt I feel, have always felt.”

“Guilt is a terrible master. I know because your father carried it with him.”

Garrett shook his head. “Father?”

“Yes.

“Your father cried like a babe the day your cousin Ralph died. He was devastated for his brother and for Lucy and her mother.”

“But Father couldn’t have done anything to save Ralph.”

“That’s true, but it didn’t stop him from feeling guilt. And don’t think I don’t know you’ve carried a bit of that same guilt, too, over your cousin’s death.”

Garrett hung his head. “I have.”