Lucy was not unimpressed when she was introduced to the Earl of Clanricarde before dinner. He was a bit older than she had expected, at least a whole decade older than her, if not two whole decades. But he wore it well, was not particularly marked by the years which had passed him, and possessed a certain smoothness that comes with age.

Sitting beside him she realised that the evening would be a pleasant one whether or not he was interested in her, or she in him. Had Lucy ever been asked what sort of a slightly older man she would consider marrying, she would have probably described the Earl: late thirties to mid-forties, not many signs of ageing, calm and collected, polite and gentle.

He was, indeed, a very handsome man. He was not the tallest man she had met, but he was a good three inches taller than her, and his frame was otherwise perfectly proportioned. He had a strong jaw and nose, and sparkling blue eyes which shone like sapphires. His chestnut brown hair showed a few silver streaks, though it was hard to tell if it was from premature ageing or if he was older than he initially appeared. But he was the perfect balance of mature and youthful.

And, quite importantly, he did not have any of the aura of intimidating power which surrounded Prince Ferdinand. It was a relief to her, as she found Prince Ferdinand, however handsome he was, to be incredibly overbearing and exhausting to talk to for more than a few minutes at a time.

She found it difficult to keep up with his manic pace. The Earl, on the other hand, was fairly neutral, a peaceful presence who neither revitalized nor tired her.

He also had a wonderfully melodic accent and a certain wit and charm about him. She knew from experience that not all Irishmen had this smoothness, this class. This was purely from maturity, education, and a natural sensibility for others' moods and mind sets. It was as though he could see where you were emotionally and adapt to make sure you were always comfortable. And between this and his smooth accent, he was a genuine pleasure to listen to. She could listen to him talk all night, happily.

All this really counted in his favour. Prince Ferdinand was not wrong when he had said that the Earl was a fantastic marriage prospect.

There was a slight problem: She felt no instinctive pull towards him. He was more like a friend of the family than someone she wanted to touch and hold like she wanted to touch and hold Lord Jones. But she did not feel the urge to push him aside either. It was a difficult choice. But she knew that if she gave him time she might grow to like him. And if she did not grow to like him, he did not seem the sort to be bitter about it. He would be worth the effort.

“How come is it that a fine, educated man of your age is not yet married?” Lucy asked.

The Earl sipped his wine and thought it over. “I would like to be. But I am careful. Like when I was buying my summer house. Just because I had enough money to buy whatever I liked did not mean I was about to just buy anything. I waited for years for the house I truly desired to come up for sale.”

Lucy nodded. “I understand that. Not being able to have quite what you desire.”

“Do you now?” he asked. “I would have thought you are too young to have experienced the torment and patience of deprivation.”

“Perhaps I am too young, perhaps I am wrong, but it just feels as though everything I actually want always... belongs to someone else,” Lucy said quietly.

“That happens a lot at your age,” the Earl replied. “It is rare to get what you desire at your first attempt.”

“How long does one have to wait to be able to get what they truly desire, then?” Lucy asked.

“You are asking the wrong man,” the Ear said. “I am not married either.”

Lucy shook her head. “But in general. You have waited for the things you want, how long does it take to get what you want?”

He laughed a little. “It depends on what you are looking for, and on your luck. In terms of that house, I waited four years. In terms of a wife, I have been searching for some time,” he said, “but I suppose I am a picky man. I will search for what I want the most, until I have what is just right for me. Patience is a virtue, don't you know?”

“Do you ever... give up?” Lucy asked.

He shrugged. “I would not call it giving up, but there have been times when I realised the thing I was waiting for would not wait for me. I had to ask myself whether I truly wanted to chase it, or whether it was time to let it go.”

“I suppose I need to do some soul-searching too,” Lucy confessed. “I have been seeing many potential suitors and yet none have been quite right for me.”

“A girl like you must have many suitors, but I cannot believe that they are all so terribly inappropriate. If enough men propose to you, one will eventually suit you,” he replied.

Lucy sipped her wine thoughtfully. “You may be right, but... I cannot pick which one I want.”

“What's wrong with the lads, then?” the Earl asked.

“One is married,” she began.

“Ah, that's a no,” he agreed.

“Many of the others are too naïve,” she said.

“But they can grow,” he countered.

“A few of them are just... uninteresting, or two-faced,” she said.

“If you are certain of your judgement, lassie,” he said.

“And one...” she carried on, suddenly pausing.

“One is the one you truly want,” the Earl said, having waited a few seconds for her to finish.

She shook her head. “He is still obsessed with this woman he once courted. Probably engaging in some... indecent activities with her also,” she added in a whisper.

The Earl nodded. “So... if you had to narrow them down to two, which two would you see?”

“I... I do not know,” Lucy said. “It is hard to choose. Especially so suddenly.”

The Earl put his head to one side. “How come are you so indecisive?”

Lucy wanted to reply. She wanted to say she was not indecisive, it was just that her suitors made her life hard. But she could not. Because he was right. She was continually flip-flopping back and forth. One minute she did not want to marry, the next she was feeling swept up in a whirlwind of romance. One moment she was chasing a man, the next she was running from him. First, she was open and honest, then she was scared to tell the truth. She was as indecisive as they came.

The problem was not the men. There was nothing wrong with any of them. The problem was... her.

“I do not know why I am like this,” she said with a frustrated sigh. “It seems as though nothing ever works out the way I intend it to.”

The Earl nodded. “So, what is your intended result?”

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“When you see a potential suitor, what is it you want from him? What requirements must he meet in order to satisfy you?” the Earl elaborated.

Lucy had never really thought of it this way. What did she want from a man? Or, indeed, from life? She shook her head. “I do not know.”

“Then there is your problem. You don't know what you want from them. And if you don't know what you want them to do, or say, or be, how are they supposed to know what to do, or say, or be like to please you? They're people, not circus animals.” The Earl's words were harsh like knives, but the soft, fatherly way in which he spoke them reassured Lucy.

“You are right,” she admitted. “I cannot ask someone to give me what I want when I do not even know what it is myself. But... how can I work out what I want, and how to get it?”

“One cannot move towards an objective if one does not first set the objective,” the Earl explained. “What is it your heart truly desires? In ten years, where would you like to see yourself?”

“I suppose in a nice house, with a few children but not too many, doing some charitable work, and living in peace and quiet,” Lucy replied.

The Earl nodded. “Then you are not concerned by status, or attending events?”

“I suppose not,” she admitted. “If anything, they make me anxious. I only wish to have a loving husband, a family, and a peaceful life.”

“Then that is a good first step to take. You want a man who wants children and who does not like these big social events... like this one,” the Earl said.

Lucy smiled and nodded. “I suppose you are right.”

“And what else do you want?” he asked her. “What do you want him to look like? To believe in? To do for a living? To make per year?”

She shook her head. “I don't know. At all.”

“There has to be something,” the Earl replied. “Blonde or brown hair? Or black?”

Lucy shook her head again. “I could not care less.”

“How much money do you spend per year?” he asked.

She shook her head once again, feeling a little frustrated. “I do not know.”

“How can you expect to find the right man when you do not know what makes a man right?” The Earl chuckled and sipped his wine.

“I wish someone could tell me what makes a man right,” she complained.

He choked back a laugh, coughing on his wine. “Lucy... Nobody can do that but you. If you keep asking other people to make your life choices for you, eventually you will have no choices left and wind up with whatever other people like.”

“How did you decide what you want in a wife?” Lucy asked. Perhaps knowing how to work it out would make the process easier at least.

The Earl sipped a little more wine to soothe his throat. “I just thought about it. Asked myself what sort of a woman I could tolerate for several decades, in sickness and in health.”

“Am I that sort of woman?” Lucy asked.

“I am afraid you are a little young for me,” he said, “not in the body, but in the heart.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, feeling a little indignant.

He shook his head. “It means that you do not know what you want, so you cannot know if I am right for you. How am I supposed to fall in love with a woman who does not even know me?”

“I see...” she replied. “Do you think I would be a woman someone could tolerate in marriage?”

“I am sure that many men would relish your company. When you are ready,” he replied.

Lucy understood him perfectly. She nodded and smiled. “I suppose I might be a bit too young for myself yet.”

* * *

As the party drew to a close, Lucy felt a sort of resolve she had never felt before. Like she had been given a treasure map. If she just worked out what it was she wanted, she would no longer be so indecisive, so scared. She was so determined to get home and start soul searching, that she almost ran straight into the Prince.

“I am so sorry, Your Highness!” she exclaimed, curtsying and bowing her head very low.

“Never mind that. Did it go well with the Earl?” Prince Ferdinand asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity and smirking.

Lucy shook her head and smiled sweetly. “Not at all, Your Majesty. I am sorry to say I do not believe he is a good fit for me at all. And he agrees that I am not a good fit for him. Although we both very much appreciate how considerate Your Highness was in pairing us up.”

“But... why are you so happy if it did not go well with him?” Prince Ferdinand asked. He had a look on his face as though someone had just told him that wine came from the udders of grape-fed cows.

“Because I know what I am to do with my life, Your Highness,” she replied.

“I see...” His Majesty said, looking at once happy for her, and completely baffled.

Lucy did not care. She made her excuses and, with a spring in her step, set off to find her coach.

She had been following everyone else's lead. When she thought she was rebelling she was just being contrary. When she thought she was being good she was just complying. Of course she had had such a hard time working out what to do!

She needed to stop worrying about what other people were thinking and doing, and pay more attention to herself. And she knew just where to start disconnecting from the plans of others.

She stepped into the front room where her parents were reading together and coughed lightly to get their attention. “Mother, Father, I have decided I shall stop courting a while.”

Her mother gave her the same stare which Prince Ferdinand had given her after the dinner party. “Why would you ever do such a thing as that?” she eventually asked.

There was no going back now. She just needed to let them know, and make sure it was over and done with. “I cannot marry any man just because of who he is,” Lucy said. “That is all I needed to say.”

Her mother shook her head in disbelief. “Lucy, you need to hurry up and choose a man to marry, if you do not, you will be old before you know it.”

“But how can I choose a man to marry if I am not sure what I want from a man?” she asked.

“There are plenty of men worth marrying, if only you'd pay attention,” Lady Fitzgerald said, exasperated.

Lucy shrugged. “I do not know yet what makes a man worth marrying. I suppose that is the first thing I need to discover.”