Matthew studiously looked away. It wasn’t like him to change his plans, and his cousin knew it. Everyone knew it. And even he wasn’t quite sure why he had agreed to the change, other than it had seemed easier at the time. Though he wasn’t generally one to balk at difficult situations either.
“Let’s go out.”
“Out?” He’d felt certain that John was not going to let things go quite so easily, but this abrupt change of topic seemed to suggest otherwise.
“To the pub. Let’s go. You’ve been poring over these stuffy books long enough. It’s time you relax.”
“There are things that still need to be done,” Matthew replied, but he did fancy a pint himself.
“Come on, then. You have been holed up in this room for what feels like months.”
“That’s what happens when you have land to manage. You would not know—you have no responsibilities,” Matthew retorted.
But as always, John did not care a wit for his cousin’s rebukes, merely laughing and shaking his head. “Indeed, and who is the one that has it better? Come along, then.”
With that, he stood up and walked out of the room, simply assuming that Matthew would follow. And of course, he was right.
Matthew sighed, made a notation of the work he still had to finish, and rose from his chair. He was happy for an excuse to enjoy himself, though the fact that it always required John for him to do so was frustrating enough.
“Now then,” John began, once they had settled at the bar and each had a pint before them. “Tell me of this change of plans. You were settled on marrying Lady Marigold. What happened?”
“Lady Marigold is too young.”
“I know my father would not make a mistake such as that. If he proposed Lady Marigold as a potential match, she must have been old enough to wed.”
“Old enough to wed, perhaps, but not old enough to have outgrown her childish nature and tendencies.”
“And so you changed the plan?”
“Rather than subject myself to a lifetime of being married to a woman who is practically a child in temperament if not age.”
John shook his head and took a sip of his drink. “And what do we know about Lady Diana, then?”
“She is a firebrand,” Matthew scoffed, before taking a swig of his own drink.
“Is she now? I don’t know that I’ve ever heard you describe a lady in such terms—except perhaps Isabelle.”
“Both ladies have earned the term,” Matthew retorted.
“This one is quite different from the quiet, sweet girl my father suggested then.” He had forgotten that John had sat in on their discussions of eligible ladies and knew the decisions that had been made.
“That she is. And I am certain she shall be a disruption to my life that I do not need.”
Matthew was starting to second-guess the rash decision he had made, but it was too late now. He already obtained the special license, and starting another search for a wife seemed far more exhausting and time-consuming.
“A disruption, you say? A firebrand. A lady who has made you abandon your plans… Perhaps this is precisely what you have always needed.” John grinned, leaning back in his chair to finish his pint.
“Whyever would you say that?”
“Because you have always been surrounded by those who say yes to you. Who aid you in everything that you wish. Who followyour every whim. Perhaps it shall be good for you to have a firebrand who does not follow orders.”
“I do not look forward to this arrangement nearly as much as you, I presume.”
“Likely not. But I shall be very pleased to watch the events unfold.”
For the next several minutes, they were both silent, though Matthew was certain John was watching the people around them. As for himself, he was staring into his drink and contemplating what life was going to be like with this strange girl who had so abruptly upended his plans.
“Shall we drink to it?”
