England

1823

“Elizabeth? Come here, please.”

Seven-year-old Elizabeth Bolton, only daughter to the Earl of Lewisham, looked up from her frustrating attempts to play a tune on the pianoforte and saw her mother standing in the doorway, a small smile on her face.

“Of course, Mama,” she replied, slipping from the piano stool and hurrying towards her mother. “Is something the matter?”

“No, not at all,” her mother replied at once, with an affectionate smile. “We are to have a visitor, and he is bringing his son with him. I thought you might like to spend some time in his company and make sure he is welcome.”

Elizabeth, who had a mother inclined to show familial affection, smiled up at her in delight. “A visitor, Mama?”

It was drawing close to spring, and the last few months had been rather dreary for a young girl whose only wish was to run around outdoors. She had been forced to remain within, confined to the house and at the mercy of her governess. It was not as though her governess was in any way cruel, but rather that she found Elizabeth rather poor at all the particular skills required of a young lady. It was a welcome relief to be taken away from the pianoforte, even if she was meant to be practicing.

“Now, my dear,” her mother continued, as they made their way towards the drawing room. “You must be on your very best behavior.”

“I will, Mama,” Elizabeth replied at once, seeing her brother Frederick already standing by her father as she entered the drawing room. “What did you say his name was?”

Her father cleared his throat, his eyes filled with warmth upon seeing his daughter. “You look very lovely today, Elizabeth.”

She smiled, knowing the blessing of having two loving parents at her side. “Thank you, Papa.”

“The Marquess of Stowell,” her mother answered, coming to sit down beside the fire. “He is a widower.”

“And a very fine man by all accounts,” her father interrupted, with a slight gleam in his eye. “His son is a little older than you—more Frederick’s age—but it is important that you greet him properly. He is Luke, Earl of Mallon, for he has a title in his own right.”

Elizabeth, entirely unaware of why such a thing was important, nodded eagerly. “Of course, I will, Papa.”

Frederick sniggered, his eyes dancing. “She does not understand, Papa.”

Frowning, Elizabeth’s smile faded from her young face. “Understand what?” Looking over at her mother, Elizabeth saw her look towards her father, who cleared his throat rather gruffly.

“Well, Elizabeth, we wish to tie the two families together.”

“Why?”

His gaze turned back to her after a moment of hesitation. “Because you will need to find a good husband for yourself and to marry above your title is an honor that I know you will come to appreciate. His father and I are to enter into business together, and this is the final part of our agreement.”

Sinking down into a chair, Elizabeth tried to understand what her father was talking about. She had never really thought about marriage or the like, given that she was only a child, but now her father seemed to be talking about such things as though she ought to be giving her future a great deal of consideration.

“It is all arranged,” her mother said, smiling. “You need not worry, Elizabeth. I am sure the boy will grow up to be as good a man as his father. It is a wonderful match.”

Elizabeth swallowed hard, struggling to take in the news. She had never really thought about her future, and certainly not about matrimony, but it now appeared that her parents had thought of everything. There would be no question about her future, no wondering about who she might meet and where she might go. It was all settled.

“So, I will never have a Season?” she asked her mother, her eyes rounding just a little. “I will not be presented?”

“Oh, you can have all of that,” the earl replied with a broad smile, “for I would not deprive my only daughter of her chance to experience all that London society has to offer!”

“It is just that you need not worry about courtship or the like,” her mother explained with a warm smile. “That is a blessing in itself, my dear. Trust me on that.”

Her father said something that made her mother laugh, but Elizabeth did not hear it. All she could think about was what her future was to look like, feeling rather nauseous over the fact that she was about to meet her future husband without any kind of warning.

The butler entered and introduced their visitors, and Elizabeth, as was expected, rose at once and gave the best curtsy she could, feeling her mother’s gentle hand on her shoulder as she rose. It gave her comfort and reassurance, her young mind struggling to comprehend all that she had been told.

“And this is my son, Luke,” the marquess said after introductions had been made. “He is delighted to make your acquaintance.”

Luke, who appeared to be around ten years of age, bowed deeply, his eyes rather serious for one so young. Elizabeth curtsied again, wondering if he knew of what their parents had arranged. When their eyes met, she felt herself grow queasy and dropped her gaze, unable to look at him any longer.

“Very glad you are both here,” she heard her father say, as the marquess and his son sat down. “I am sure this shall be the start of a very long and happy acquaintance between us.”

Elizabeth’s eyes shot to her father, who—much to her surprise—was looking at her with a great deal of fondness.

“I think so,” the marquess replied with a broad smile. “Luke is more than delighted with the arrangement, I can assure you.”

“As is Elizabeth,” her father replied, before pausing in their conversation as various trays were set out before them.

Elizabeth felt her mouth go dry as she felt Luke’s eyes on her, not able to look back at him nor even smile. It was all too much to take in, all too much to comprehend for a mind so young.

“Smile, Elizabeth,” she heard her mother whisper, trying her best to do so at once. “All will be quite well, I assure you. In time, you will come to appreciate this.”

Elizabeth nodded mutely, hoping in her heart that it would all be as her mother said. Her future was determined, her path already cut. All she had to do was follow it.