“Goodness,” Donald said beneath his breath. “This is a large gathering.”
“Believe it or not—” their mother put a hand to the emerald necklace around her throat—“I find hosting a large crowd easier than a small one.”
“Because?” Noah asked, rolling his hand in the air.
“Because there are more people to converse with each other and fewer chances for uncomfortable silences that I feel the need to fill.”
Donald dipped his head, sighing. “Fair enough. Though I may find myself with a headache shortly after dinner.
“You shall do no such thing, Donald.” Their mother glared at him—her brow in its signature bow, which warned of trouble if the one receiving said look did not comply. How many times had Noah and his brothers been given such a look over the years? Too many to count.
“You know I do not like large social events,” Donald said, his voice low.
“As the future marquess, you had better get used to it.”
He straightened, his mouth pinched.
“Now,” she said, her eyes glancing over the brothers as she clasped her hands in front of her. “I expect you three to be on your best behavior.”
“Yes, Mother,” the brothers said in unison.
“Good. I will be speaking with Mrs. Bamber if any of you need me.”
She walked off to talk to their cook, leaving Noah, Donald, and Peter to chuckle to themselves.
Peter glanced toward the hall. “I’m going to sneak into the kitchen and see if Mrs. Bamber set aside a roll or two for me. I am starved.”
As their rail of a brother made his way to the kitchen, Donald smiled after him. His smile faded, however, as he looked down at Noah. Why did Noah’s older, broader brother also have to tower over him? It didn’t seem fair.
“Have you not told her?” Donald asked.
“About Margaret?”
Donald quirked a brow.
Noah let out a sigh. “No. I do not want it to affect her friendship with Mrs. Lewiston.”
“It could make for an uncomfortable evening if Mother were to invite the Lewistons over for dinner.”
“I suppose.” Noah looked up at the ceiling. “But I have at least eight weeks until they return from London. And even then, Margaret will likely—” his voice caught, and he cleared his throat. “—likely be happily engaged.”
Donald’s eyes filled with pity as he watched Noah do his best to keep his composure. Donald had always been the most stoic of the five brothers, while Noah was easily the most emotional. He had often been teased for it growing up, but he had never minded, for his brothersallteased each other. Noah for being whiny and emotional, Archie for his wild blond hair and ever-present smile, Donald for always trying to keep them in line, Anthony for his ridiculous efforts to seem dark and mysterious, and Peter always got the short end of the stick merely for being the youngest.
Donald put a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “Mother said Miss Gibbons would be here tonight. And Miss Baxton. They are both lovely ladies.”
“Yes, but there is only one problem.”
Donald’s brow rose as he waited.
“They aren’t Margaret.”
“What can I do to cheer you up? Anything? Anything at all?” Donald slapped Noah’s shoulder in a good-natured gesture.
Noah hid his wince, knowing Donald would tease him if he admitted his smack had hurt him. But goodness, Donald had never known his own strength. “No, nothing that comes to mind.”
“Be sure to let me know if you think of anything.” When Noah nodded, Donald released his vise-like grip on Noah’s shoulder, turned, and walked toward the back hall.
Dinner wouldn’t be served for another hour, so Noah took the opportunity to go up to the library and read in his favorite leather armchair to bide his time. As he walked up to the second floor, an inexplicable pull led him down the hall and to the fourth door on the right of the east wing. He swung the door open, then stepped into the familiar room.
