Noah let her hand go before more eyes swung in their direction. But soon it wouldn’t matter. Soon he would be able to clasp her hands in public without a care. He could claim her lips and hold her close to his heart as it beat out a melody of love for her.
He gave her one last parting smile. “I look forward to it.”
The dances went on at an agonizing pace as Noah waited for each set to come to a close. Why was it that as someone greatly anticipated something, it seemed to make time go slower? Time should be constant, whether one wished for it to be or not.
But, finally, the third set ended, and Margaret gave a graceful curtsy to her partner. Noah hardly waited for the last strains of music to come to an end before he rushed out to the balcony, his heart beating wildly.
He leaned against the balustrade, taking a cleansing breath of the crisp, night air.
“Noah?”
He spun about, his smile widening as Margaret walked out toward him. The double doors on either end were open wide, allowing a level of decorum to their privacy.
Noah met her halfway and took her hands in his, unable to quell the excited energy that coursed through him. His thumbs stroked circles on the backs of her hands. “You look radiant tonight.” His eyes roamed over her face as he took in her beautiful blue eyes, dainty nose, and small but perfectly shaped lips.
“Thank you,” she said on a breath, likely out of air from her last dance. “Now, what is it you wanted to tell me? Is something wrong?”
“No, not at all. I just wanted to tell you that I have moved into the dower house. Today. It is done.”
“Done.” Her chin lowered, her eyes still holding his.
“Yes. Which means Meadowview is now in need of a mistress.” Noah’s mouth quirked up at the edge, his eyes never leaving hers. “And I think I know just the lady that would suit the part.”
“Oh?” Margaret’s voice pitched higher than normal.
“Yes. And, since you have not yet asked who it is, I can confidently say that I desire that lady to be . . . Miss Margaret Lewiston.” So much for his rehearsed declaration.
Her grip intensified and her neck tightened as she took a quick swallow. “What are you saying, Noah?”
Surely he wasn’t being so subtle that she could mistake him. “Margaret. I am asking if you would do me the honor of taking my hand.”
She stared at him but made no move to open her mouth. The thick silence stretched between them.
“In marriage,” he added, in case he had somehow made a muck of things and wasn’t being as clear as he thought he was.
Margaret finally opened her mouth, taking a deep breath as if to speak. Her eyes made several passes back and forth between him and the other end of the balcony before finally ending on him. “Noah, perhaps this isn’t the place to discuss such things.”
He stared at her as the air in his lungs became stale, yet he couldn’t bring himself to draw in another breath. Finally, words found purchase on his tongue. “What do you mean, Margaret? I thought you would be excited to hear the news. Expectant of it, even.”
She pulled her hands from his, looking to her right once more as she cleared her throat. “And what, may I ask, gave you that idea?”
A scowl formed on his brow. “We spoke several months ago in a way that left no doubt.”
Margaret couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. “I . . . do not recall such a conversation.”
Noah’s heart plummeted to his feet, his head becoming light and dazed. The evidence of her knowledge was literally placed against his chest. “Then let me remind you. We were outside your father’s drawing room gazing up at the stars, and I had told you that you looked particularly lovely in the shade of ivory you were wearing, to which you said—”
“Enough,” she interrupted, her cheeks reddening. “I think you are mistaken, Lord Noah.”
“What is with all this ‘Lord Noah’ nonsense? You have not called me that in years. Perhaps never.”
“I see what this is.” She shook her head, as if finally making sense of the whole scene. “You wish to secure me before another man has a chance?”
Noah’s head jerked back, her words hitting him like a slap to the face. “No, of course not. Whatever could you mean by saying such things? I love you, Margaret. I want to marry you and grow old with you.”
This seemed to give her pause.
“It’s just—” Margaret had the decency to look away. She closed her eyes, as if accepting her ruse would not fool him. How could she have ever assumed it would? He knew the truth and so did she. She rubbed a finger against the back of her hand. “My father has decided to allow me a season in London.”
