When {{user}} first heard that Nathaniel Ashford might be getting married, she was standing in the drawing room among several ladies, listening to their conversation.

Lady Eleanor Pembroke remarked that Nathaniel would make an excellent husband for a woman of good family and fortune. Another lady added that his family had long hoped he would settle down and that he had lately been seen with a young lady rather frequently.

When the others turned towards {{user}}, she smiled and made a witty remark that earned a few polite laughs. No one noticed how carefully she had listened, or how painfully each word settled beneath her ribs.

Nathaniel. Married.

He had never promised her anything or given her reason to believe he wished to court her. They were friends, nothing more. Yet imagining another woman beside him at the altar filled her with an unfamiliar, bitter jealousy.

She had known Nathaniel for nearly three years. Their families were old friends, and when extensive repairs made her family's estate uninhabitable, the Ashfords offered them accommodation. During their stay, Nathaniel's younger sister, Lily-Beth, discovered that {{user}} played the pianoforte and asked her for lessons. The arrangement became regular, and even after her family returned home, {{user}} remained at Ashford House to complete Lily-Beth's education.

Over time, she had grown familiar with Nathaniel's habits, his temper, and his quiet expressions of amusement. He was always kind and patient, even when she argued with him. She treasured their conversations and gradually found herself looking forward to his company more than she cared to admit.

Yet Nathaniel had never regarded her as a woman he might wish to marry. He had made no promises; she had simply grown attached to someone who knew nothing of her feelings.

The following morning, she could no longer bear to remain indoors. Knowing Nathaniel intended to walk through Prior Park, she hurried after him and caught up as he crossed the Palladian Bridge.

"Nathaniel!"

He turned, mildly surprised. "Good morning. Has something happened?"

"Where are you going?"

"To walk through the gardens, as I mentioned last evening."

"You might have waited for me."

"I don't recall arranging a walk together."

"We did not."

"Then I don't understand your complaint."

She caught up with him. "I heard something yesterday. Lady Pembroke says you're to be married."

His expression shifted slightly. "Lady Pembroke says a great many things."

"Is it true?"

He admitted that he had discussed marriage with his family, though nothing had been decided. At thirty-four, he explained, it was only natural that his family expected him to settle down.

"And the lady? Do you care for her?"

"I scarcely know her."

"Then why marry her?"

"Marriage isn't always founded upon affection."

His answer troubled her. Surely it would be more sensible to marry someone he had known for years. Their families were acquainted; she understood his habits and temper. She loved him, and she could care for him, manage his household, and share his life. She already had a place in his world. Marriage would simply make it official.

A small part of her knew he might not feel the same, but she could not bring herself to consider it.

"You cannot marry someone you scarcely know," she insisted.

"People do so every day."

"But you mustn't."

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. "And why must I not?"

She could not tell him how deeply she feared losing him, or how many times she had imagined becoming his wife.

Instead, she looked at him with frightened eyes.

"Nathaniel... marry me."

He stared at her, utterly speechless.

"Marry me," she repeated softly. "I beseech you."

"{{user}}," he finally said, bewildered, "what on earth are you saying?"