“Son, I think it is high time that you were married.”

The sunlight was streaming through the windows behind the desk, causing the tiny flecks of dust in the air to appear as dancing stars on a cloudless night. There was no sound in the room apart from the soft tick of the grandfather clock’s hands and the rhythmic rapping of his father’s fingers on the wooden arm of the chair where he sat.

Lord Bridgewater was a stately man with a strong chin that his mother loved to fuss over, a rosy complexion that his sister pined for, and an ever-present smile on one side of his face, as if he was always amused about something that no one else understood.

The man rolled his eyes and lowered the book he was reading to glance across the room at his father. He also was a rather impressive looking man, quite handsome for his age, and had more finesse in one toe than Lord Bridgewater felt he had in his entire body. His greying hair was combed neatly to one side, and his steady grey eyes watched his son like a hawk did a mouse.

“Father, we’ve been over this,” Lord Bridgewater replied rather lazily, laying the book down on the desk beside him, causing some of the dust floating in the patches of sun to swirl as if they were flakes of snow. He crossed his hands across his chest and nestled down further in his chair, anticipating the coming argument. “She is not yet of age. No matter how dearly you wish for the engagement to happen, I –”

“Do you have such little sense?” his father replied, his tone changing, and a laugh following his words. “Your betrothed was presented to society just last week at the ball of the season, so I have heard.”

Lord Bridgewater blinked, unable to find words to respond to this statement.

His father laughed once more. “My son, always so full of wit… It appears, with not a thing to say, for once in his life.”

Lord Bridgewater cleared his throat and stood to his feet, turning to face the window. It was indeed quite a shock to hear such news. How many times had they had this conversation, he wondered? How often had he shrugged the information off, knowing that sometime, in the distant future, he would marry this girl that he had met once in his childhood? He couldn’t even remember what she looked like. The only thing that he knew of her was her name and her reputation.

His father, still smirking, apparently well pleased at his son’s reaction, crossed the room to join his son at the window.

Lord Bridgewater shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes, according to your mother, she was well accepted, knowing who she was to marry. Some of those girls are not as fortunate as she and will have to entrance some young gentleman at their father’s estate, but not dear Lady Agnes.”

The world suddenly felt much smaller, far less exciting than it had that very morning. All of the adventure and the possibilities it held came to a hard and fast stop, like a horse spooked by something in the woods.

It was not as if he didn’t wish to be married, he mused as he watched his sisters picking wildflowers by the river that bubbled along beside the estate. In fact, it was a part of his life that he had greatly looked forward to since his parents had told him of the betrothal.

He was nine years old, and a family he had not known had spent nearly a week with them. According to his father, it was an important family, and the young girl, their daughter, was to be his wife one day.

She was three years of age at the time, and all he could remember thinking when he looked at her was that there was no way she was ever going to get any bigger or grow up at all. As most young children do, they cannot see past themselves, and he dismissed it as a folly and had promptly forgotten it. Since he had not seen her since, the only knowledge he had of her was any information that his father would deliver from her parents.

When he turned eighteen, however, he was quickly reminded of it. He had been spending quite a lot of time at the seasonal gatherings with Lady Tabitha, a pretty, yet simple young woman who had just entered society, and his father felt as if he was becoming a little too familiar with her for someone who was already engaged.

“Engaged?” he had said crossly, feeling the color rise to his cheeks. “What in the world do you mean? I don’t remember asking anyone for their hand.”

“Have you forgotten about Lady Agnes?” His father had asked, gripping his son’s arm tightly. “It is your duty as her future husband to be the upstanding Christian man that you are expected to be and love her by withholding your affection for women such as these.” He had gestured around the grand ballroom, where many attractive young women fluttered their eyelashes and laughed in small, delicate ways.

Since that day, he had kept his promise to the girl he did not remember and abstained from any further interaction with the women he came into contact with. It caused more than a few issues at social gatherings, but the information that his father gave him about his betrothed was enough to keep her on his mind quite often.

“So your mother and I have decided to invite her and her family to stay with us for the summer so you are able to meet one another again and spend some time together,” his father continued, also watching the girls outside.

“This summer? As in a few weeks from now?” Lord Bridgewater asked.

His father nodded. “Indeed. We just received the letter this morning.”

Lord Bridgewater swallowed and sighed. A knot had formed in his throat, and he felt a flutter of emotions in his chest for the first time in many years.

“I hope this isn’t all too sudden for you, my boy,” his father began, “Marriage is a great change in your life, but it is wonderful and scary, and I can be honest when I say it was the very best thing that ever happened to me.”

Lord Bridgewater turned to look at his father. There was a gleam of satisfaction in his tired eyes. “I mean it.”

“I didn’t think you would say something so starkly moving, Father, if you did not mean it.”

A few moments of silence passed once more as the two of them stood side-by-side, still gazing out the window, each lost in his own thoughts.

“The young lady is apparently quite excited to be meeting you again,” his father said.

“Is she now?” Lord Bridgewater responded, feeling a sudden tightness in his chest, and a warmth in his cheeks. It was not an unpleasant feeling, but it surprised him.

His father nodded happily. “She is. Her father tells me that you are the talk of the town, my boy. There have been quite a few families who have been dismayed to discover that you are already spoken for.”

“And why might that be?” Lord Brightwater replied, eyeing his book once more, wondering if he had time before dinner to take it outdoors and finish the chapter he had been reading.

“You are quite the desirable candidate for marriage, it seems.”

“Oh, am I now?”

“Indeed. There is apparently a rumor going around that you are quite handsome.”

Lord Bridgewater laughed out loud. “Come off it, Father. Who in their right mind would be spreading such lies?”

“I admire your humility, son, but surely you must realize that it is not only your looks that have attracted the attention from so many.”

He was quiet and did not respond to his father immediately.

“What you will inherit is no secret to many of those we are connected with, and it does not surprise me in the least that many families would wish for their daughters to marry into such comfortable security. I wonder how many waited with baited breath for the moment when our family had a falling out with Lord and Lady Kensington, and that would therefore end with us calling off the engagement with their daughter, the Lady Agnes.”

It caused Lord Bridgewater to pause again. How is it that he had never seen this for what it was before? Had there truly been so many women that desired to be his wife that it had begun to spread like idle gossip through the towns and villages?

“I had no idea that so many people were unhappy with me,” he finally said.

His father looked at him pointedly. “I never said anything about people being upset with you.”

“You didn’t need to,” Lord Bridgewater replied. “I have learned enough about people to understand that their hearts were in a less than desirable place.” He sighed. “How do you handle this sort of pressure, Father?”

His father sighed as well and shrugged his shoulders. “It is not worth worrying about. You are inheriting the dukedom because you are my eldest son, and I inherited what I inherited because of my father, and it continues on. We have done what we thought is best for you and for our family, and others that do not understand do not deserve to understand it.”

He was surprised at his father’s response, and he wondered what had driven him to such a staunch conclusion about others. He did not feel as if it was the right time to engage in that sort of conversation.

“Well, come along, John. I am certain your mother will be in here in any moment to summon us for dinner. Let’s not give her the satisfaction this evening to tell us off, shall we?” He turned to leave the study.

John looked around the room, feeling as if he was a different man than when he had stepped inside it earlier that afternoon. He wondered what Lady Agnes was doing at that moment, if she was thinking of him in the same way that he was thinking of her. He found himself happy as he thought of the woman who would be his wife and the excitement that getting to know her would bring.

He picked up the book he had been reading titled The Way to the North and wondered what Lady Agnes liked to read. He turned it over in his hands as he walked out of the room. Perhaps she didn’t like to read, or maybe even still she would think his taste in reading was appalling.

For some strange reason, the thought made him laugh out loud. How humorous that could be, and how many possibilities the whole situation held for them.

He closed the door to the study with a soft thud, and the only sound that remained was the soft tick tock of the grandfather clock.