“You say that Lord Noah is residing at the dower house on the property?” Her mother took a sip of tea, peering at Lady Chatham over the rim of her cup.
“Yes. He is staying there until he finds a place of his own. Though we are in no rush for him to leave, of course. But my sons are rather strong willed.” Lady Chatham gave a soft laugh. “Some of them more than others.”
The way she spoke, it was unclear just how many sons Lady Chatham had. “Some?” Hannah piped in.
“Yes.” Lady Chatham set her tea down, clasping her hands in her lap. “I have five sons, Miss Gibbons. My eldest, Donald, then my second, Archibald, and then there is Anthony, Noah, and our youngest, Peter.” She smiled. “I do my best to keep up with them all, but they are quite rambunctious, even if nearly all are in their twenties now.” She looked up. “Though, Donald, I suppose, is in his early thirties.” With a laugh, she shook her head. “I feel as if I am losing my mind some days.”
“Isn’t that the truth of it,” Hannah’s mother said, smiling and leaning forward with a hand to her chest. “I only have my sweet Hannah. I cannot imagine how you do not have a head of gray hair after raising five boys.”
Lady Chatham lowered her chin. “You have yet to see me without my bonnet, Mrs. Gibbons.”
The ladies both tipped their heads back with a laugh.
“Oh, goodness. I am sorry, Miss Gibbons.” Lady Chatham turned to her. “Enough of our old lady talk. What interests do you have, dear?”
Lady Chatham did not look old to Hannah at all. Refined, yes. But old, certainly not. Hannah could see a few silver strands of hair beneath Lady Chatham’s bonnet, and she had some fine lines about her eyes, but they were endearing on such a woman. Her sweet nature gave her a softness, whereas a more harsh woman might appear more severe with her coloring.
Hannah looked at her mother, who encouraged her with a faint nod. She turned to Lady Chatham. “I enjoy painting, my lady, but that is nothing extraordinary amongst my sex. I fear I do not have anything unusual to recommend myself.”
“My third son, Anthony, is a painter. I would suggest you two share ideas and show each other your work, but he has been on tour for some time.” Her smile dimmed. “He has an adventurous heart, and nothing at home can keep his attention, I’m afraid.”
“Not even the shore?” Hannah asked. “It seems it would be a painter’s dream.”
“Yes, well, he exhausted that subject of study long ago and determined he must paint faces, of which one is never the same. Landscapes seemed to bore him after a time. So he now paints portraits and whatever draws his interest around the world.”
“How exciting,” Hannah’s mother said, leaning nearer still. Hannah feared she might fall off her chair if she continued in such a fashion. “He has a lively spirit. There is nothing wrong with that.”
“And Lord Noah?” Hannah asked, turning to their hostess. She was unsure as to why she felt the need to ask that now. Perhaps because a sadness had entered Lady Chatham’s eyes as she spoke of her son Anthony, despite her many glowing words, and Hannah wished to see the light return to her gaze.
Lady Chatham’s smile became warm again, showing a more secure love. “Noah will never leave. Whether it is in his best interests or not. But, selfishly, I am content to allow it. He is a very sweet boy.” Lady Chatham shook her head, waving her hand. “I am sorry. I do not know what has come over my tongue today. My boys would not appreciate me being so candid with someone they do not even know.”
Hannah wondered if Lady Chatham knew of her son’s recent heartbreak. It might explain some of her sentimentality.
Her mother’s eyes seemed to strike a gleam. “Are any of your sons married, my lady?”
Lady Chatham smiled. “Only Archibald. He was married about four years ago, and they have since blessed me with my two grandsons, James and Joshua.”
“Do they favor your son or daughter-in-law?”
“Oh, Archibald without a doubt,” she said with a laugh. “They have his same wild blond curls and mischievous grin. It is like seeing Archie grow up all over again. But doubled.” She tipped her chin down and the ladies all smiled at the picture she painted.
While the mothers continued their reminiscing, Hannah’s eyes caught on a flash of sunlight glinting on the glass windowpanes as the door swung open. Lord Noah’s hair was in disarray, as if he had run his hands through it with abandon. But that did nothing to diminish his overall appearance. The young man had a boyishly sweet look about him, and despite his gentle features, he was still very handsome. The blue of his jacket suited his coloring, and his light brown hair stood out against it and brightened the color in his cheeks—which was a faint hue of pink at the moment.
Lord Noah had not even managed to shut the door behind him when his eyes caught on the group of them off to the side of the courtyard. For a moment, Hannah thought he might retreat back indoors, judging by the twitching of his fingers on the handle and the way he paused in his exit instead of continuing on. But, after a few moments, he made his way over to them.
Oh, botheration. Why did Hannah feel embarrassed every time she saw this young man? Not that it had been many times, of course, but both situations had been rather unfortunate circumstances. And now she was keenly aware of how he must feel every time he saw her, which made her mirror his own discomfort. Luckily, the mothers were blissfully unaware of the unease between the younger party.
Lord Noah broke into a smile, though Hannah wondered how true it was, for his eyes held a tiredness to them. “Excuse me, ladies.” He laid his hands on the back of a vacant chair. “I had not realized you were still here, or I would have gone through the front. I hate to interrupt good company.”
His smile grew more genuine as he spoke, but the poor man seemed to have forgotten the state of his hair, and Hannah could hardly keep her eyes from it.
“Nonsense,” Hannah’s mother said, beaming. “A bit of male company never goes amiss.”
“I agree,” Lady Chatham added, smiling at her son. “Time seems to have gotten away from us. I assumed your meeting would last longer.”
“Ah, yes.” Lord Noah’s smile faltered, but it returned just as quickly as it had vanished. “It seems Mr. Jennings is not sure his client will need representation after all. Which is a good thing, in my opinion. Less quarrels, in court or out of it, makes for a happier world, does it not?”
Temptation beckoned Hannah to speak, but she did not trust herself not to stick her foot in her mouth.
