“Of course.” He playfully scoffed, leaning back on his hands. “How often does a young lady get to dine with a gentleman on the precipice of the sea?”
Miss Gibbons pressed her lips together, suppressing her grin. “I suppose I can allow that.”
Noah fell silent, but a wisp of a smile kept to his lips.
“I must admit, Lord Noah, that you seem in better spirits today than when I saw you last.”
With her comment, his smile vanished. He gave a nod, his brow pulling down. “I am well versed in how to be social and behave politely, even if this is the first time you are bearing witness to that side of me.” He adjusted his shoulders as embarrassment crept its way in. “I did not wish to bring my gloomy mood with us today and make this an entirely dull afternoon for you. It is your first visit to the sea, after all.” He rolled his head toward her, forcing a grin as his insides ached. For a moment, their conversation had pulled him from his sour thoughts. He had been offered a quick respite as the waves of emotions pulled back, giving him a moment to dry and bathe in the sun, only to have the waters come back and crash over him again with even more force than before. Lud, he felt sick.
“You do not need to put on airs for me,” Miss Gibbons said, slipping a thin slice of apple into her mouth. She turned her head and let the wind push her hair back. “The sea is pleasant enough for me. If you need to sulk, you may sulk.”
“And you,” Noah said, plucking a grape from a bowl, “are being entirely too kind.”
With this, she smiled. “Well, I have some making up to do. And if that includes enduring your sullen mood, I am happy to.”
“Truly?” Noah sat up straight. No one wished to be around someone in a foul mood. Especially since this young woman hardly knew him. “You wouldn’t rather me make polite and dull conversation?”
“Goodness, no.” She gave a soft laugh. “I would much prefer a real interaction. Not something forced and polite for the sake of—what really, I do not know. Manners I suppose? But who here would benefit from such a thing? Not me, as I find it tiresome and frustrating, and not you, as it would force you to smile when you would much rather frown.”
Noah stared at her for a moment, completely taken aback. He often felt the need to put on a smile in society. No one truly wanted to know what was going on beneath the surface. Private thoughts and private life were to be just that—private. Even Margaret had made such a comment the day he had lost his first case in court. She had told him to smile, saying it was not a huge ordeal and claiming he would feel better if he forgot it, thus brushing aside his feelings. Which now seemed strange, considering that was something she had brought up after refusing him. And here was Miss Gibbons—practically a stranger, and yet she was asking nothing of him.
Noah spared Miss Gibbons’s maid a quick glance before raising a napkin and wiping his mouth clean. He stood, offering Miss Gibbons his hand. “Do you wish for that walk?”
She looked up at him, putting her hand to her throat as she swallowed her bite. “Yes, please.” She took his hand and stood, and her maid trailed behind them toward a small, rocky path that wound itself down to the water’s edge.
“Watch your step,” he warned softly, watching the concentration on Miss Gibbons’s brow as she carefully chose her footing. The crashing waves grew to a roar as they made their descent, and the air became pungent—a saltiness blended with a hint of aquatic life, something unique and strangely refreshing about the contrasting mix of smells.
When they arrived on the rocky shore, Miss Gibbons’s feet froze.
“Are you all right?” Noah asked, leaning closer to her ear to be heard over the churning water.
She nodded. “Yes. I am only trying to remember this moment. I want to memorize the feeling, the sound, the sight. Everything.”
Noah straightened, looking down at her before gazing out at the water. “Your zeal for life guilts me, Miss Gibbons.”
Her eyes were slow to turn toward him, hanging on the water before landing on him fully. “Whatever for?”
“Because this sight is literally on my—well, my father’s—property,” he corrected. “Yet I only come here perhaps once a month.”
“To live with such beauty so close.” She shook her head, the wind pulling at her skirts. “I can hardly imagine.”
The breeze whipped Miss Gibbons’s hair, loosening several strands from beneath her bonnet. That had been one of Margaret’s favorite things whenever they visited the bluffs. “Highgrove has its own beauty, does it not?” he finally asked.
She dipped her gaze and gave a bashful smile. “Yes. I realize how ungrateful I sound. I am very blessed in life.”
“What an ungrateful lot we are,” Noah teased. “Come. Let us walk the shore.”
Miss Gibbons turned. “Joyce, would you do me a favor and look for shells as we walk? I thought it would be a nice souvenir for Mother upon our return.”
The young woman gave a quick nod. “Of course, miss.”
Miss Gibbons leaned nearer as she took Noah’s arm. “You are most welcome.”
He mimicked her motion, drawing closer to her. “How is it to my benefit that your maid collects trinkets from the sea?” He felt himself grinning, much to his own surprise. There was something refreshing about this young woman—she was unpredictable.
“Because,” Miss Gibbons continued, “she shall be otherwise occupied and not as likely to overhear our conversation. I am correct, am I not, that we are going to speak of your business ventures?”
Noah’s brow creased, but he nodded, his mouth still curved upward. “That is the plan.”
