Ferrol chuckled but Nathan simply looked pleased at the sound of her name. "I can imagine," Ferrol said with amusement. "Brocklehurst is a rather long name, after all. How long did it take to learn to write it as a child?"
Nathan smiled, also amused as well. "Well, I for one prefer it," he said rather smugly. He didn't know what he'd do without her, and he loved her, loved having her as his wife.
"It was," Nathan agreed with her.
Ferrol said, "It certainly seems that way," his own form of agreement. It was certainly fate of some sort that the one woman capable of somewhat redeeming his brother had suddenly appeared in his life.
Ferrol sipped at his firewhiskey contemplatively before setting it down, reaching over to brush his thumb over the faint Mark that still rested on his upper forearm. "I don't know," he answered quietly. He didn't regret, per se, his decision at the time. It had been, in retrospect, a bad choice, and he knew that now, but he had stood up for what he'd thought was right and what he had believed in, however wrongly, and he couldn't regret that. "Somehow I suspect that love just isn't in my cards like it is for most people."
That was perhaps his singular regret in life, that he couldn't seem to find love. He had a lot of fun, but there didn't seem to be anyone special that captured his heart. He tried not to dwell on it very much. It would probably feel a little hopeless if he did.