It only took Lady Agnes a few more days to get back on her feet. She was able to attend church with them all that weekend, at her insistence, and all of the color had returned to her cheeks. Everyone in the house was pleased; John was simply feeling ashamed of himself.

The distance that had grown between them was almost tangible, and he was sure that everyone could feel it. What little progress they had made when they had first met was completely gone, and he expected anyone who spoke to him to draw this to his attention or make note of it in some way.

He felt uncomfortable in his own home now. Everywhere he looked, he saw evidence of her and her family residing there, and it broke his heart and infuriated him at the same time. He would catch the eye of his sister, Jane, from across the table at meals and would look away immediately; the condemnation there was too much for him to bear.

Tuesday afternoon brought a bright, vibrant afternoon, and the heat that had been plaguing the manor all summer had returned. The women had all decided to take a picnic down to the riverside, and John was glad to have some space. He planned to spend the entire afternoon in the library once more when his father brought his own thoughts on the afternoon to his attention after lunch.

"I was hoping we could discuss the wedding in more detail," he said quietly, gently. "It is approaching rather fast, and I believe it would be wise for you and I to do our part and prepare."

John swallowed hard, and a hollow feeling crept up in his stomach. What could he say to his father? There was nothing to be said about it.

He joined his father in the sitting room that overlooked the terrace and the river, and John was grateful that the windows had all been opened; a light breeze had drawn some of the stale heat from the room. He sat in the settee across from his father, wishing he could be anywhere but there.

His father studied his face, the lines around his eyes becoming more evident as he raised his eyebrows at John. "You must be getting excited about the coming union?"

John resisted the urge to say No immediately. He looked down at his hands clasped tightly together in front of him and sighed. "Father, I don't know. I just...I am..."

He saw his father's hand reach across the table and lay upon his own. He looked up at his father, who was watching him carefully. Everything in the room was quiet, and he was very aware of his father’s steady gaze.

“It is a big moment in your life, son. It is perfectly normal to be nervous about it.”

“It’s not nerves,” John replied, almost too quickly. “It’s hard to explain.”

His father sighed, not unhappily, and a knowing look appeared on his face. “Ah, now this I do understand.”

“You do?” John asked, not moving.

"I remember feeling just as you are right now," his father said, leaning back in his chair. He sighed happily, gazing off into some far distant memory. "The anxiety, the thrill, the constant uncertainty."

John felt his father's words hit him like an arrow sinking into a target. Could it be that everything he was experiencing, all of these things that he had been wrestling with in his heart and his mind were simply normal?

He saw his father nod at the look that must have passed over his face. "I understand it all, son."

"Father, you and mother were betrothed as well, were you not?" John asked, sitting up in his chair straighter. He felt for the first time in weeks that he had hope once more, hope he was not a complete failure.

"We were indeed," he began, and lifted his glass from the end table beside him, taking a long sip. He smacked his lips in pleasure before putting the glass down once more. "We had only met once or twice before our parents told us. I was one and twenty, and she was not yet fifteen, and it was just before she was to be announced to society. Of course our parents had known all along, much like we did with you and Lady Agnes, but it was quite a shock to me."

"I understand the feeling," John said, in spite of his reservations.

"It was such a shock that I had to end things with a lover I had."

"You what?" He asked, his eyes widening. "You had another lover?"

His father held up his hand, waving it dismissively. "Her name was Lady Marietta Longfellow. Her parents owned quite a large estate up further north and some businesses in London. We had met at a ball when I was eighteen. She was beautiful and charming. She was quite skilled at the piano forte and would often play for all of the guests at the balls."

He was surprised to hear the wistful way that his father was speaking. It felt as if he was lost in a different time in his mind. While he appreciated that his father was human and experienced normal relationships like he had, he was not sure that he was keen to hear about a woman who was not his mother.

"I loved her, and I was upset when my parents had not told me that I was betrothed sooner. I do not think that they expected me to wish to marry anyone as soon as I had. I was prepared to ask for her hand, and then they told me..." Some of the joy left his face, and his jaw tightened, but it soon disappeared. "That is part of the reason that your mother and I told you and Lady Agnes sooner. That way, this sort of thing could not happen. Or at least...we hoped it would not."

John looked curiously at his father. "What do you mean, you hoped it would not?"

His father sighed, and folded his hands together, leaning toward John. "Your mother and I have become...concerned. We have begun to wonder if something in your life is going on that you are keeping from us all. Including from Lady Agnes."

John swallowed hard. He was not entirely sure, but it felt as if his father was accusing him of something.

"You have become quite distant from all of us since Lady Agnes and her family arrived at the estate. I have always known you to be a very agreeable young man, very charming and intentional. And yet, we cannot help but notice that something has changed in you."

John folded his arms across his chest, already seeing where this conversation was going. First his mother, then his brother, and now his father? If his behavior was this evident to all of them, then surely Lady Agnes would be more than aware of it herself.

The moment of joy he had a short time before vanished.

"You have become a recluse, my son, and I must admit, it worries me deeply." He stared at his son very intently, his tired eyes combing over him as if it would reveal a truth he sought. "I thought that you were quite pleased with Lady Agnes."

"I am!" John replied, rather more forcefully than he had intended. He sighed. "I am," he repeated more gently.

"Then what on God's green earth has got you so befuddled?" His father asked.

"I..." And again, his inability to relay his feelings gripped him by the throat, unrelenting and debilitating.

"Is there another woman?"

The way that his father's voice filled the room, and truly, filled every empty space in John's mind, made him almost recoil. He realized that his father had been waiting to say these very words since they had sat down together in this room. The entire conversation, everything that had been said, was leading up to this point.

His father's gaze was no longer kind, but hard and intense. The lines on his face were apparent in the shadows of the afternoon sunlight, and his greying hair was slightly disheveled.

"What?" He heard the word leave his mouth, but did not remember thinking about it.

His father did not blink, and his stare did not falter. "Is there another woman?" he repeated more slowly. "Someone who is preventing you from embracing this wedding and this marriage wholeheartedly?"

"How could you..." John was aghast. There had never been another woman, not even once. He had met plenty of wonderful women, but never once had he ever felt anything for them like he did for Lady Agnes.

His shock had left his speechless. How could his father think so little of him and his integrity?

A loud slap resounded in the room, and John jumped in his chair. He saw his father's hand on the low table between the two of them. The candle sticks and his own glass of water wobbled precariously from the impact.

His father rose to his feet, rubbing his chin, turning his back to John.

"I told your mother that she was wrong," his father muttered under his breath. "Told her that there was no way that you would be so daft as to jeopardize your entire life, your future...not to mention her reputation..."

John rose to his feet, walking toward his father. "Father, you cannot be serious. This is absolutely ridiculous!"

His father wheeled around and glared at John. "Is it?" He flashed a grim smile, and shook his head. "Your mother was the one who suggested it in the first place! She thinks that you are dragging your feet to marry Lady Agnes because you are off running about with some other woman!"

"How could you both think so little of me?" John replied, his voice starting to rise as well to match his father's. He despised the way his heart beat in his chest, the way his cheeks felt hot and his eyes stung. "Why would I ever do something like that?"

"Because I know how easy it is!"

His father had crossed the room so quickly that John had almost not noticed it, except he was now standing almost nose to nose with his son.

"I lived that life; I have already told you. And the way you have been acting is almost exactly how I was acting when I was your age. I - "

"Then, Father, perhaps it is time to consider that I am not as much like you as you believe I am," John replied, taking a step back from him, but the volume in his voice had decreased. His hands were clenched at his sides, though, and he could feel his skin tight and cold against his bones.

His father hesitated, and a flicker of shame shone in his eyes. He looked down at his feet and walked around the couches once more, pacing around the room.

"There is no other woman, Father!" He felt as if his father did not believe him, and the idea infuriated him. Of course there would be no way to prove it, but it made him all that much more ashamed about his behavior the last few weeks.

So much had his self-respect deteriorated since Lady Agnes had come into his life. He felt as if he no longer knew himself, and in turn, his family felt as if they did not know him either. All of the confused glances and angry looks from all of his siblings, and now his mother and father, flashed before his mind, and he felt his anger flare.

"Son, I wish to believe you, but the way you are reacting -"

"Why are you so determined to make me into a detestable man?"

His father looked up at those words, and his face fell. "No, I... I am not trying to make you out to be that, son. I -"

John held up his hand, cutting his father off in mid-sentence. "You are. You are so sure that I have done something terribly wrong, and have never considered to ask my opinion on the matter." His straightened his shoulders. "I would have willingly shared my thoughts with you, and yet you accuse me of ruining my marriage, a marriage that has not even happened yet."

"Son, surely you must see that there is a grave problem arising between the two of you."

"I have," John replied. "And I have been trying, Father, I have."

"You have not," his father replied, the glare returning, and he continued to pace about the warm room. "You have neglected your duties as a husband to be and have completely ignored Lady Agnes."

"I will admit, Father," John began, a little louder, to end his father's babbling of his poor behavior, "that I have not done all I should have. I have done some small things, such as showing her around the estate, engaging in conversation with her at meals, and I even brought her some tea and cakes when she was ill."

His father seemed surprised at the last bit of information, and it encouraged him enough to continue.

"But I will admit that I could have done more, and I should have. Will you believe me when I tell you that I wished I had, and that at the same time, I haven't known how?"

His father studied is face closely, his lips pursed.

"What do you mean that you haven't known how?"

And John went on to explain how the last few weeks had been, and all of his doubts and his frustrations. The more he spoke, the more ashamed he felt, and yet, another feeling had started to emerge.

"And now," he finished, "Everyone is angry with me, and I feel as if I am entirely to blame for it."

"Well, you certainly have not handled the situation as well as you should have," his father continued. "You have a duty to uphold, and it is your responsibility to ensure that your marriage will work."

"Father, I understand that, but -"

"And you must be willing to admit when you have done wrong, and you must ensure that the woman you will be with is both happy and taken care of."

"Yes, I know all of this, Father, but you must admit that -"

"And," his father's voice grew in volume. "If this is all to fall apart, then it will be you and your family that will be ruined in this situation. Your reputation will be marred beyond repair, so I suggest that you do what you can to ensure that this does not happen."

"So she has no responsibility in how our relationship has progressed?" John asked, his mind whirring in alarm even as he spoke. "It cannot be entirely my fault, surely."

"You are the one who has handled it poorly!" His father replied. "You are the one who needs to fix it! There is obviously something wrong with you and your attitude, and now, all of this is spinning out of control."

John, his anger spiking, said, "Something wrong with me? What about her? How is it that not any of this discord is being blamed on her? She cannot be entirely blameless!"

His father's face flushed. "How dare you accuse a lady of anything!"

"No," he said, pointing at his father. "No, I will not be held entirely responsible for all of this. Every relationship, the good ones anyway, require the commitment and care of both people involved. I have not seen her make any more effort than I in regards to getting to know me."

"Foolish boy," his father spat. "It is your responsibility to engage her, or have you forgotten all of your sense?"

John shook his head. "There have been plenty of appropriate circumstances in which we have found ourselves that she could have spoken with me, too, or times when I attempted to make simple conversation, and she was uninterested. Completely uninterested."

His father glared more intently, giving his son sidelong glances as he paced about the back of the room.

"And it allows me to draw a similar conclusion," John continued when he felt he finally had the upper hand in the argument since it began. "That perhaps she is not interested in this marriage."

"Ah, so that is what your true feelings are?" His father wheeled around, pointing at him.

"I have never once said that I didn't want this marriage to work!" John retorted. "I actually have feelings for the woman, and stupidly, it has caused me to be shy."

"Foolish," his father said. "It has caused you to be foolish."

John forced himself to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, we can both agree that I have been quite foolish. Does that make you feel any better?"

His father, his arms still crossed in front of himself, sighed heavily.

"All I am saying is that perhaps this marriage is just..."

"Just what?" His father asked, his voice steadier, some of the angry red in his cheeks diminishing.

"Perhaps none of this is going to work -"

There was a loud knock at the door that caused both of them to flinch, look at one another, and then look at the solid wood surface.

"Who is it?" His father called.

"Your wife, dear," came the voice of his mother, muffled through the wall. "May I come in and speak with you both?"

How long had she been listening at the door? John wondered to himself, feeling the knot in his chest tighten.

His father glanced at him one more time, and John wondered if there was some pity there. Regardless, he was grateful that they had to put their argument on hold, perhaps delay it all together.

His mother's joyful face appeared at the door, and John forced an uncomfortable smirk onto his face, and said, "Hello, Mother."

She nodded to him before turning back to his father. "I was hoping that we could go over some of the details for the ball," and it was obvious that she was pleased to be discussing something as elaborate as a social event.

John cleared his throat as she sat down on one of the sofas in front of him. "Ah, yes. I shall leave you to it then," and he made to leave the room.

His mother reached up and grabbed his sleeve. "Nonsense, my son, sit down. I am talking about your ball to announce your wedding. Surely you see that you must be involved in it. Come now," and with greater force that he knew she had, she pulled him around the couch and pulled him down to sit beside her.

He blinked at her, but she would not meet his eye. As he watched her face, he realized that he did not much care for the look on her face; it felt very devious. How much of our conversation did she hear? Is this her way of punishing me?

Before he had the chance to consider it further, there was another knock at the door, and in came Lord and Lady Kensington, closely followed by Lady Agnes.

Their eyes met as she stepped into the room. John held her gaze. He had not spoken with her since he had come to her room to visit her when she was ill. He could not read her, and it made him uneasy. He could not tell if the small smile that passed over her face was a happy one, or sad. And the smile soon faded, only to leave the ghost of it playing tricks in his mind.

She and her family sat down on the couch across the long, low table in front of them, the adults conversing happily.

John wondered vaguely if they simply ignored their children's uneasy silence.

"Well now, this is exciting, is it not?" Lady Kensington said, beaming at her daughter, squeezing her hand. "Oh, I know how you have dreamed of having a ball in your honor, dear! Do not fear, we shall ensure that it is the most elegant affair and that you will be the most beautiful woman."

"Have you found her a dress?" John's mother asked, leaning closer to the other women.

Lady Agnes seemed fixated on something on the back of her hand, and did not seem the least bit concerned about what her mother said.

Lady Kensington nodded. "We did indeed, Duchess! Just before we traveled here. It is the most beautiful shade of..." her voice cut off as she looked up at John, who immediately looked from Lady Agnes to her. Lady Kensington giggled. "But I should not say a thing! I am sure that her groom-to-be will find it the loveliest thing he has ever seen."

John could not have been sure, but her voice seemed slightly higher than usual, and he wondered if the last thing she had said was more of a threat than an observation. He could not have been sure, for she and his mother both erupted into giggles like small girls.

"Now, what should we serve for dinner?" Lord Kensington said from the other side of Lady Agnes. "We are willing to cover any extra costs that might arise. Only the best for our daughter."

John could not take his eye off of Lady Agnes, but she refused to look up at him. At least, that was what he told himself, for how could she not be aware of the fact that he was watching her so closely?

As the parents discussed various options to order for the grand feast that it was becoming, John wondered if what he had said in anger, was not in fact, the truth. He had been blaming himself all along for the way that their relationship had been developing, or the lack thereof. But maybe she was realizing that he was not at all what she wanted to marry, and that was why she was becoming so silent around him.

The thought made him frustrated, and even if it was not true, it was as if his mind and heart had already accepted it as if it was. She did not think that he was a good enough match, did she? Did she feel, perhaps, that he was not worthy of her?

I will have you know, dear Lady, that there are many women who would have given their left arms to be able to marry me. And here I am, still infatuated with you as I am, willing to try and make this marriage work.

But was he truly willing to anymore?

The conversation had moved from the ball to the wedding, and he found that he could not stomach it any longer. There was too much hanging in the air, and it did not help him feel more at ease. Instead, it made him feel as if he needed to figure out what he truly wanted to do...before it was too late to do so.

"Excuse me," he said, getting to his feet.

His mother, who had been right in the middle of talking about whether they should use the silver goblets or the crystal ones for the dinner, looked up at him. "We are not done working out the details. We will be done shortly, dear, come and sit back down."

He crossed in front of his father and back toward the door. "It appears that you all have it under control. I trust your judgment to make the best decision."

And before she could say anything else, he left the room.

He could have sworn he saw Lady Agnes look up at him for the first time as he stood, and as he walked down along the hall, he wondered if perhaps that was not a reason that he had done it in the first place.