The comment about how it 'wouldn't look right' if he was 'watching from the sidelines' made her laugh softly. Ideally both the bride and groom, as well as their families, would contribute to the wedding ceremony arrangements. Like so many other things in life, in practice reality differed from societal expectations. "I've been to a few where the husband-to-be was late, and at one his father had to go fetch him," she told Galt with amusement in her tone. "Certain members of the nobility take any opportunity to celebrate to the extreme," she told him, "and not all men can hold their liquor. They show up before the priest bleary-eyed and half conscious, then they down a dozen more mugs of ale at the reception." Distracted by her memories, which she found humorous rather than frustrated, she leaned her head on his shoulder. Although he had thoughtfully arranged cushions behind her back, he was more comfortable at the moment than they were.

"Duke Valdemar is one of the more noble and pleasant members of the aristocracy," she admitted with a sigh. "Others of them are downright lazy. It wouldn't raise as many brows as you might think to leave all the planning to myself or household staff. As a hero of the kingdom you have quite a lot of latitude. You're not obligated," Silke continued, trying to impress upon him that this wasn't a burden he was required to bear. It was hypocritical for her to urge him out of a feeling of duty when she took so many upon herself that 'belonged' to others- so much so that it was making her physically ill. "If you really want to help, however, I'm sure we can think of something," she relented after a moment, stressing it was up to his personal desires.

The most difficult logistical task would be the feast. For any type of event there was a bit of inherent risk; to order too much food would be throwing away good coin, but cooking too little would reflect poorly on the hosts... and possibly make guests belligerent. When it came to drinks, too little alcohol would look cheap and miserly, and an excess would encourage drunken antics. Despite whatever illustrious perceptions Galt had of the nobility, there was a not insignificant amount of them that would seize on any excuse to drown themselves in wine.

His question about being a good husband took her by surprise. Fighting her impulse to reassure him immediately, she gave it serious thought, allowing the silence stretch on between them for almost half a minute. "It's a subjective question," she replied slowly, staring into the fire. "I've had friends who wanted nothing more than a husband who was wealthy and left them to their devices otherwise, and that genuinely made them happy. I've had friends who wanted devotion, to spend every meal of the day with their husband, and felt neglected otherwise. If you asked a hundred women what makes a good husband, they'd give a hundred different answers. I'm sure it'd be the same for men." Political marriages could become insufferably miserable or blissfully romantic, and love-matches could blossom into a paragon of joyous fulfillment or wilt into bitter resentment. How or why it started seemed to matter less than both parties knowing what they wanted or needed from their partner.

"I'm not sure what sort of husband you'll be yet because I think you are still figuring out what [i]you[/i] want to be. Your world was turned upside down when you became a count. There will be decisions to made that shape and change you. You'll need to decide how daring and ambitious you want to be with business prospects, if you'll be relaxed and maintain your lifestyle, or gamble to have a chance at improvement. You'll need to decide how involved you'll be with your tenants and how much charity to extend. You'll need to decide if you want to spend all your time at your estate, or travel locally, or even travel globally, and whether that will be to make powerful friends and allies, or just to experience other cultures. Until now it sounds as if you've only had one path ahead of you. I'm interested to see where you'll turn now that so many doors are open," she said with a stifled yawn. The temptation to doze was growing.

Realizing that her philosophical response wasn't quite what he was looking for, she added, "I wouldn't have accepted your proposal if I thought you'd be a terrible husband... and trust me, I've turned down many suitors over the years, so I am quite capable of rejecting suitors." The men whose egos she had bruised by refusing them were nearly all wed by now themselves. Regardless, rumors would circulate far and wide about what made Galt so different, so worthy of her hand, when men of distinguished pedigree had been denied. By being so selective she had inadvertently made herself a source of gossip. Very, very few of her peers waited as long as she did to be engaged. Frequently if they didn't meet the man of their dreams in a year or two, they settled for the best option available.