#ofod

Lando Norris paced anxiously through the gardens; his hands picking leaves mindlessly from shrubbery as he wandered. His blue-green eyes heavy with worry and weariness… he had barely been able to sleep the night before, unable to stop his racing thoughts. He awaited the return of his father, the Duke, and his feet always seemed to bring him back to the rose gardens no matter how much he tried to distract his mind with other quiet pursuits. The rugged paths and overgrown bushes provided him comfort as he traveled the same routes he had his whole life.

As the oldest male and heir to his father’s household, Lando was by title the Marquess of Somerset and therefore anticipated to be the Duke’s first son to marry. Though he was incredibly anxious about the expectation of marriage, it was not due to lack of excitement. In actuality, the Marquess desperately wanted to marry and hoped his father was in the process of making arrangements. If all was done when his father returned from his journey, Lando would travel to Coventry the next day to finalize his betrothal to the eldest daughter of the second Earl of Coventry. This was why he could not focus his mind on anything else. What more could he be expected to think of but his future Lady and wife?

The Duke of Somerset was not a man to be pushed into a quick decision. The choice of the Earl’s daughter was not by chance, but one of strategy.  With a new king recently taking the throne, marriage contracts with peaceful relations tended to be looked on more favorably by the King. The Duke and the former Earl of Coventry had been at odds with their support (or lack thereof) of the previous king. Then, four years ago, the former Earl was killed during a particularly awful battle and the title went to a new Earl. The Duke was hoping to foster an alliance with this recently appointed Earl. A marriage between the families would ensure a friendly relationship that could carry on to future generations, and Lando knew this was a major piece of the plan his father was working towards. Peace for their family and royal favor were excellent reasons for the Duke to approve this contract, but Lando’s interest in the Earl’s daughter was not tied to personal gain or political agenda… put simply, he was intrigued by what he had heard of his future bride.

The Earl’s eldest daughter was considered to be the most beautiful woman in Coventry, with a radiant smile and a gentle manner. Lando imagined her with the voice of an angel, a soft touch, and kind eyes. Those in the court that knew her said she was the nicest daughter in all the Earldoms, and she lived a life of duty and loyalty to her father and the King. She would set an example for the rest of his household, and Lando craved a righteous and sensible soul who radiated humility toward any nobleman who approached.

Lando was elated at the thought of waking beside such a woman. He could hardly wait to be the first to touch her intimately and take her virtue. Certainly, a woman of such character would bless him with sons and honor him in ways he could only hope for. He dreamed of having breakfast in bed, her caring for his household and him, and having a long life and happy marriage.  His dreams were just yearnings for the romantic in him. In truth, he knew very little about his future Lady, only what others had told him - the vast majority of which was courtly gossip.

He could waste away the day doing nothing more than planning for his future wife. He tried to anticipate everything… every moment from the time when he would first place the ring on her hand until the moment when his first child was born. There was only one thing the Marquess of Somerset did not count on while he walked in the garden…

When your parents broke the news of the planned nuptials to you, you stormed to your room and slammed the door, leaving your father on the other side.

“You’re being ridiculous!” he called through the door as you huffed angrily. You had known you were to be wed eventually, and that it most likely would be a marriage of strategy and not of love once your father had become the second Earl. Your dog, Bo, was stretched out on a woven mat in front of the hearth, eyes watching you warily as you paced. You stopped at your desk and hastily began writing on a piece of parchment. Your maidservant, Abigail, came into the room, begging you to calm down.

“Calm down!? At a time like this?? I need you to take this and see that he gets it.” You said, referring to the note you had been penning to your beloved knight, Sir George Russell. Abigail took the parchment with a good many ill words upon her tongue. She had argued with you many times before and this was to be no different.

“I cannot, my Lady!” she insisted.

“And why not?” you demanded, your hand holding the note out to her trembling slightly.

“Because he is not here my Lady,” Abigail began, and knowing how upset you were, decided it would be better to give you all the information even though she had been told not to. “He was sent out this morning with others by your father.”

“For what?” you asked, leveling her with a stare that may have made others shrink, but Abigail had been your maidservant for many years, and you regarded each other as friends.

“Hunting.” She replied plainly. Your head spun… everyone else in the house had known about your betrothal ahead of you and they were busy making preparations for your future husband’s arrival.

“Hunting?” you repeated, quieter now, leaning against the edge of your bed as your mind raced with the activity of the last few weeks. Your father had insisted you visit the seamstress numerous times in the past week. He had showered you with new clothing and any other gift you had been wanting over the last month. Your eyes shot up to meet Abigail’s as the truth set in.

“He has sent Sir George out in preparation for my wedding feast…” you said dejectedly.

Bo’s ears perked up at the word feast, and he wagged his tail lazily. You shot him an annoyed look and he got up to rest his head on your lap. You patted his head absently, feeling drained of your strength. Your father did little without ulterior motives, and now his motive was very clear to you. He wanted you to become the Marchioness of Somerset and carry on his bloodline with an even higher rank. The Marquess would arrive before another sunset splashed across the sky, and at that time your betrothal would be announced before the entire household. Your heart sank as you realized Sir George would be camped in the forest overnight and there was little chance of getting word to him.

“I had hoped you wouldn’t get yourself so worked up,” Abigail said comfortingly. “I hear the Marquess is a good and loyal man that is very popular at the King’s court.”

“And what do you know of what goes on at court?” you said, eyes blazing again, before you realized you’d been too harsh. “Forgive me. I just don’t know how I have been so blind that I didn’t see this coming, especially now that I am of age.”

Abigail knelt down in front of you and reached to gently take your hand. You gave her hand a squeeze and she smiled. You had known her for years, and you considered her one of your closest friends. Abigail had watched over the years as you continually gave your heart to commoners that were ill suited for you. Before Sir George it had been the merchant’s son, Oscar, a nice man by all rights, but not of the right status and not someone that could weather your fiery outbursts. Sir George, as far as Abigail was concerned, wasn’t worth the price of his armor. He was a constant womanizer who was hooked on battle and violence; his knighthood having long ago gone to his head.

“My Lady, you knew this was expected. Ladies of the court marry gentlemen of the court,” Abigail said pointedly, giving your hand a small squeeze of encouragement.

“You don’t understand,” you whined, “I am in love with George!”

You stood up, beginning to pace the room again as Abigail got up from where she’d sat to comfort you.

“Marrying for love can leave you wanting, but marrying the Marquess would ensure that you are taken care of for the rest of your days and that any children would not have to worry. I think you should at least give him a chance” Abigail said.

“A chance?” you scoffed. “Tomorrow I will be officially betrothed and before the end of this week I am to be Lord Somerset’s wife!”

“Gives you a few days to grow to like him then.” Abigail responded with a grin. Having been your friend for so long, she knew how to push your buttons, but she also knew how to make sense of your feelings and help you reach smart decisions.

“No.” you stated pointedly, and Abigail knew the spark in your eye would mean trouble for the Earl and his house in the coming days.

You shooed Abigail from your room and tried to come up with a plan to get you out of what you saw as a grim situation. Your father had planned well, leaving you few resources by which to make a getaway. You could not leave this night, and you expected your father would have a full schedule planned for you tomorrow so that you would not be left alone even for a moment. You assumed Sir George and the huntsmen would be back before the arrival of the Marquess, so you had little hope for avoiding this wedding.

You laid in your bed, Bo curling up next to you, as you mulled over the possibilities. You had three days to give the Marquess a chance… or to convince him otherwise. You did not intend to be outmaneuvered in this situation.