Emily Bowett was like any regular girl; she fantasized about what her wedding day would be like, who her husband would be, and how wonderful her dress would be. But that day never seemed to come soon enough. Deep in her fragile heart, she had the fear that her wedding day would not come at all. Her fears were calmed by her late mother, who assured her that one day a man would come along.
It was at a wedding that she met that man. Her good friend, Nellie Abbott had just married the Duke August Turner. Emily was the bridesmaid. She was always the bridesmaid. Of course, she felt joy for her childhood friend. How could she not? Still, she was bitter; she was not the one in the flowing white dress, with the eternal smile, and the loving companion hanging on her arm. She smiled through the night, talking with other guests, consciously trying to fill the hole she felt inside her.
The crowds were just noise, the happiness was not hers, and Emily felt rather selfish. It was her best friend's wedding and here she was, thinking about herself. She scolded herself for being such a selfish creature. Emily walked outside to be alone.
She took in a deep breath of cool, crisp night air. Her eyes flitted up to the silvery moon. She had always loved the moon. It gave her a feeling of comfort. Thinking that she was alone, she outstretched her arms and did a couple of graceful turns on the front lawn. A deep voice stopped her.
"You dance beautifully." A man stepped out of the shadows. He was handsome; he had deep brown hair, a debonair smile, and shining blue-ish eyes that reminded her of the moon itself. Emily lowered her eyes and blushed heavily. "Pardon my intrusion," the man continued. "I just needed some air."
"It's no intrusion," Emily said. She slightly lifted her gaze. The man's eyes had wandered up to the moon. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked him.
"It would be," he said, "If you weren't outshining it." Emily's breath caught in her throat. Her heart beat faster and she felt extremely giddy. She let out a girlish giggle. The man dipped into a bow.
"Barkis Bittern," he said, upon standing. "And it is a pleasure to meet you…?"
"Emily. Emily Bowett," Emily replied. Her heart soared as he gently took her hand and pressed it to his lips. Her free hand flew to her heart, as if it would slow the wild beating. "Are you a relative of the Duke's?" she asked. She had not seen Bittern around before. He laughed a jolly laugh and shook his head.
"Goodness, no. I'm just a friend of the family. I always tag along for weddings. I seem to find myself a groom's man, but never a groom," he sighed. Emily felt the despair in his voice. She felt exactly the same. Could it be a sign, perhaps? She'd barely met the man, but she could in no way deny the attraction she already felt to him.
"I've interrupted your lovely dance," he said, changing the subject back to her. "Perhaps I should make it up to you?" He held out his hand. Emily smiled and took it. Emily had danced with many different gentlemen, but she had never danced like this before. Bittern was confident in every step he took. His movements were so eloquent, so smooth. As he led her, he led gently, not trying to overpower her. Their movements intertwined and flowed together beautifully. Everything felt perfect.
"Emily!" Their dance stopped as Emily heard her name being called. She sighed. Barkis smiled at her.
"Forgive me," Emily whispered, as she unlaced her fingers from his.
"It was a pleasure, Miss Bowett," he said, sweetly. "I do hope we shall run into each other again." Emily smiled at him, and then turned back to the Duke's house. Nellie was standing in the doorway, waiting for her.
"Where have you been? Your father's been worried sick about you!" Nellie chided. They were the same age, though Nellie watched out for Emily as though she were a younger sister. Nellie gently put her arm around Emily and led her back inside.
"Nellie," Emily said. Her voice was quiet and girly. "Do you know a Barkis Bittern?" Nellie turned to face her friend. She was lost in thought for a moment and then replied.
"Oh, yes. Bittern. He's a good friend of August's. He traveled with him for the wedding and he'll be staying with us for a while. Why?" Nellie had always been a curious creature, and there was little Emily could keep from her if she wanted to.
"He's wonderful," was all Emily could utter. She was too busy thinking of the tall, dark, and handsome gentleman she had stumbled upon. Emily had never been one to swoon over men. Surely her apparent fixation had something to do with the contagious wedding joy, or the night air, or perhaps there was something in the wine… Emily almost frightened herself with her fascination over a silly, simple man. She cleared her thoughts hastily. She assured herself that she would be back to normal in the morning, Mr. Bittern completely gone from her mind.
"Emily, darling, we need to go." Emily was brought back to Earth with a sound bump. Her father, Henry, gently took her arm. He congratulated Nellie for a final time, and led his daughter away.
Henry Bowett was not a stern man at all. He was kind and jovial, loved by many people, but especially by Emily. Sometimes, however, he was very protective. Almost too protective. It did irritate Emily from time to time, but she knew her father loved her and only wanted the best for her.
"Well, that was quite a wedding, wasn't it, love?" Henry asked his daughter. She nodded, her past feeling of joy disappearing. Once again, she was feeling the longing to have love in her life. Henry noticed his daughter's glum mood and kissed the top of her head. "One day it will be you, my lamb."