Chapter 1
Amaninlovecould forge through any element if it meant he got to see his beloved. Which is why, though cold with a biting wind, Noah stood on the precipice of the bluffs at the edge of his family’s estate. Moonlight glinted across the turbulent surface of the water, and he closed his eyes, letting the roaring of the waves wash away his nerves. He needed a moment to remember this feeling. One of elation and joy and hope. He wished to fully capture the memory of how it felt to know he was about to ask Margaret to be his wife. They would soon get to fill the halls of their home with laughter and the squeals of children; a melody that he ached to hear.
Noah opened his eyes and reached a hand into his jacket, pulling out the familiar foolscap, worn about the edges from being opened and closed everyday so he could read the words anew and fall in love all over again.
My Dear Noah . . .
He filled his chest with a full, deep breath.
The other night under the stars was one I shall never forget. I will treasure the words you shared with me, and I hope you will also treasure this small token of my affection.
The letter was two pages long, but he only read his favorite portions. They fed his confidence amongst his wavering nerves. With trembling hands, he carefully folded the letter back into the smallest square Margaret could have managed, which made it easy for her to slip it to him in passing—along with a small lock of her hair, which he kept tucked away in his desk.
“Margaret—” His voice was quiet against the sound of the ocean. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He shook his head. No. That didn’t sound nearly romantic enough. “Margaret. These last six months have made me happier than I previously thought possible. You are the moon and I am the tide which bends to your will.” Too much? He tried again. “Margaret,” he said on a whooshing breath. “I love you. Simply, purely, and wholly. Please, do me the great privilege of accepting my hand in marriage.”
He pressed his fingertips to the small note hidden beneath his jacket. Then, with a fresh burst of confidence, he pulled himself atop his horse and rode toward the Lindfields'. Margaret had said she would be there, and what with Noah just having settled into the dower house that very day, what could be a better opportunity? His life was before him, and today was the day he took his first leap.
Handing his horse off to a valet, he strode into the Lindfields' home.
Noah wove his way through the crush of people, warmth seeping through his jacket as he meandered further into the room. But he did not mind in the least, for he had one single goal for the evening—and the recipient of his attention was in his sight. Heart beating at a rapid pace, he couldn’t help the wide smile that took over his face. She looked stunning beneath the candlelight, her blonde curls kissing her cheeks, her smile bright as she spoke with those around her.
He stumbled over an older woman’s foot, eliciting a scowl from her. If only she knew his goal, then perhaps she would be more forgiving or understanding. How could a man in love be expected to watch for every impediment in their path?
“Excuse me,” Noah muttered, his words aimed at no one particular person as he brushed up against everyone. He needed to get to Margaret before someone asked for her next set.
Margaret turned, her eyes locking with his. Noah stood up on the tips of his toes, rising a head higher than those around him. Reaching his hand up into the air, he heralded her to wait for him to get closer. She gave him a hesitant smile, then turned back to another gentleman in the party surrounding her.
Noah pushed harder through the crowd, murmuring apologies that likely went unheard under the crushing sound of the other guests. Finally, he arrived beside her, quite out of breath from his efforts. “Margaret,” he said, then took a quick gulp of air before rushing on. “Might I request an audience with you before the evening is over?”
Her eyes widened, and she glanced at those around her before bringing her attention back to him. “Is something wrong?” She dipped her chin.
“Wrong?” His brow creased even as his grin widened. “No, of course not. I just wanted a word—” he paused and then lowered his voice. “I wanted a word alone, is all.”
Margaret’s eyes flicked to her mother, who stood nearby with a cluster of people. “I suppose I should be able to manage it.”
He nodded. “Good. I look forward to it.” Then he remembered his manners. “Miss Lewiston, might I have the next dance?”
“Oh.” She chewed her lip. “My next dance is taken.”
Of course it was. If the men surrounding her were any indication . . . “Do you have any dances left?” he asked, his stomach sinking even as he asked. Goodness, if only he hadn’t been late! But surely she would have saved a dance for him.
Margaret looked at her feet. “My dances are all taken. I’m sorry, No—” she stopped halfway through saying his name. “Lord Noah.”
He laughed, the air about him light. Nothing could stop the joy from bubbling up inside of him. Not tonight. “No need to be so impersonal,” he said, leaning close and adding in a whisper, “Margaret.”
She flicked her fan open, covering her face and smiling as an attractive blush crept over her cheeks. “Noah, please. Someone could hear.”
“In this room? I highly doubt it.”
She peered over her fan before looking back at him. “I will meet you outside after the third set is complete. On the main balcony?”
“Yes,” he said as he grabbed her hand.
She chuckled. “Noah, whatever has gotten into you tonight?”
He ran his fingers over her glove. “We will talk. After the third set,” he said, confirming their plans.
Her brow pinched, but she smiled. “Yes. The third set.”
