It was just a feeling that she had.

For years she dreamed about those butterscotch eyes and the handsome face that they were set in. She knew that she would see the angel doctor named Carlisle Cullen again some day, but she didn’t know when. It was just a feeling that she had.

Of course, she doubted that he would recognize her. She was no longer Lizzy Ward, the gangly eight year old that looked like a drown rat, covered in blood and mud that she had been that day long ago.

At seventeen, she was now Miss. Elizabeth Ward, a beautiful girl with emerald green eyes, copper hair, and a ready smile. She had grown up into quite a beauty since that day nine years before when she had gotten lost at the country fair, but more than that, it was her carefree attitude and easy smile that endeared her to almost everyone she met.

Though she still enjoyed fairs, they were a thing of the past now that her nana and gramps had passed on and she was a “young lady,” as her mother liked to say. Now her days were filled with more ladylike pursuits such as drawing, painting, playing the piano, and reading. She enjoyed those things, but she missed the freedom that childhood afforded her.

No, there were no fairs, but now that she was out in Chicago society there were tea parties, balls, and dinners. Her parents were not as rich as some, but they had enough money and pedigree to run in the right circles and get invited to the right functions. They took her to these gatherings so she could have a good time, but they never pushed her to attach herself to any of the young men they met.

And, there were plenty of young men that were interested. She was the belle of every ball that she went to and her dance card was always full, but none of the young men who danced with her or fetched her glasses of punch caught her attention, but, just as when she was a child, she was adept at reading people and she could tell that most of the young men who tried to capture her heart were insipid, conceited fools who wanted nothing more than a pretty wife…or something more illicit. She didn’t care for any of them, at least not till Edward Masen came along.