He laid still for only a moment before remembering that he had crashedintosomeone, and—he was quickly realizing by the soft rose scent and smooth, exposed skin—that person was decidedly female.
“Excuse me,” he said, scrambling to his feet and holding out a hand. When he looked down, he was greeted by a head of fiery red hair.
The young woman situated herself into a sitting position. “Not to worry. I am not hurt.”
Noah could not make out her features since she kept her face turned to the floor while attempting to gain her footing. He did his best to help, supporting her weight with his hand.
“Thank goodness.” He sighed, grateful his single-mindedness hadn’t caused her injury. “You are certain?”
His hand dipped as she pulled harder on it to stand fully. She turned her face toward him, and he found himself staring. Her eyes were a mesmerizing mix of soft green and . . . brown? He couldn’t quite make out the exact color in the dim light.
“Are you all right?” she asked, her brow raised as he stared.
Assured the young lady was steady on her feet, Noah pulled his hand out of her grasp, then ran it up the back of his neck. The fact that she asked if he was all right when they were both knocked to the ground was surprising. “Yes, I am . . .” What was he, exactly? Physically he was fine, but emotionally he was anything but. Surely she was inquiring after his physical health. “I’m fine,” he reiterated. “Thank you for asking. I do apologize for my clumsiness.” Noah glanced over his shoulder. Unsurprisingly, Margaret was gone.
“It was not your fault. You seemed a bit preoccupied.”
The young lady’s words tickled his ears, but his distraction made it difficult to think. He realized his rudeness, and turned to give her the best of his attention that he could manage. “You saw me?”
Instead of answering his question, she stretched her neck, rising to glance over his shoulder. “Who was that young woman?”
The love of his life. The one Noah had dreamed of marrying and carrying over the threshold of Meadowview toward years of laughter and bliss. He could hardly believe that was not to be his future anymore. He dipped his face. “Miss—” He paused and cleared his throat. “Miss Margaret Lewiston.”
“Oh.” She flattened her feet flat against the floor. “It is only that I wished to ask her where she acquired her gloves. The lace pattern is quite lovely.”
Embarrassment clawed up his neck. If she was able to discern the quality of Margaret’s gloves, what else had she seen? Assuming she had overheard his and Margaret’s conversation, Noah wanted nothing more than to burrow into a hole and die a thousand deaths.
“I will be sure to ask her,” he lied. His manners were running thin as his throat burned. Goodness, he wouldnotcry in front of this stranger. “Please, excuse me.” Noah gave her a quick bow before turning on his heel, ready to make a swift escape.
“Wait.” She reached a hand out, grabbing his arm.
He stopped and stared as the touch seared into his skin. Had a lady ever been so bold with him before?
She kept his arm in her grasp as she pushed on. “If you would only give me your name so that I can properly thank you for helping me, sir.”
He swallowed against the growing lump in his throat. “Lord Noah Bradley.” He took a deep breath. “Now, is that all? I am afraid I have to go.”
The woman’s green eyes widened. “LordNoah?”
The young lady was clearly new to Warthford, for Noah was quite sure there wasn’t a family in all of the county, if not all of England, who did not know the name of his father, the Marquess of Chatham—and subsequently, his five sons. “Yes,” he said, giving a small nod.
“I apologize. I had only—“ She cut herself off, pinching her lips closed.
Noah’s throat tightened. This was the worst night of his entire life, and now he was sitting here speaking with a stranger who had just witnessed it all. He wanted to go home and curl up in bed. Perhaps have a cup of tea. Standing here and making small talk was not a skill he possessed at the moment.
“Excuse me, miss,” Noah said. “But I really must go. Good evening.” He strode toward the stairs leading down to the garden, not wishing to go back and face those inside. And as Noah whisked down the steps, the cool breeze washing against his skin, he swore he could feel the eyes of the red-haired young lady watching him go.
Chapter 2
MissHannahGibbonsstoodbeside her mother as she watched fine, and some not so fine, carriages whir by in succession, waiting for their opportunity. When a break finally appeared, the women rushed onto the dusty road, and Hannah held her breath so as not to induce a sneeze. It was not one of her finer qualities, but it simply could not be helped. When she sneezed, the entire world around her knew about it.
“Hold your breath, dear,” her mother said as they neared the other side. Apparently she did not want the unwanted attention Hannah’s sneezes brought either.
Hannah nodded, refusing to open her mouth and welcome the dust particles inside. When they were finally clear of the cloudy air, she inhaled deeply, her lungs desperate for breath.
A young man walked by, first with concern etching his brow as he watched her. But once she released the air and gave him a soft smile, his worry seemed to drift away and a pleasant smile spread across his lips.
And he kept watching her. The poor man kept his pace, unknowingly walking straight toward an open door.
