Lady Chatham stood, so Noah stopped and waited.
“The best way for that to happen is for her to meet as many men as possible. And how can she do that if you keep all of her time to yourself?”
Noah saw the censure in her eyes—heard the faint warning in her words. “She is my friend. What is so wrong with spending time with her?”
“Because she is a young lady, and she might have already formed expectations of you.”
“Nonsense. Hannah doesn’t feel that way for me.”
“Oh? You know this for a fact?”
He jutted out his chin. “Yes.”
She spun about, taking her list from the settee and folding it up as she turned back to him. “Then you will have no objection to me inviting all of these men for a ball in two weeks’ time.”
It wasn’t a question.
“She would hate it,” Noah insisted.
Lady Chatham’s eyes softened, and her shoulders lost a bit of their rigid stance. “I will discuss the idea with Mrs. Gibbons over dinner this week. I think it will be good for everyone.” She turned, gathering a few more papers she had strewn about and tucking them under her arm. “Unless you have other plans regarding Miss Gibbons?” she asked, her back still to him.
His confusion mounted. It was as if his mother was speaking in riddles. “I just want her to be happy.”
She bobbed her head. “Very well. In two weeks we shall have the grandest ball I have hosted in years.”
Lady Chatham left the room, and Noah fell back into his seat.
What had all that been about?
Chapter 17
Forksclatteredagainstplates,and gentle conversation filled the air. Noah was keeping a close eye on his mother and Mrs. Gibbons, wondering all the while if his mother’s idea for a ball had yet to be broached. Noah turned, grinning across the table at Hannah. She perked up from her bowl of soup, returning the smile, blissfully unaware of the coming topic of conversation.
Noah wished to warn Hannah of his mother’s plans, but frustratingly, he had received the seat across from her and not beside. It was almost as if his mother had planned it that way, for rarely did Donald take the seat beside Hannah. Of course, as the dutiful heir, he served Hannah her food and engaged her in polite conversation. She nodded and smiled in return, and Noah felt strangely annoyed that he wasn’t the one to be bringing those smiles to her face.
“Hannah,” Noah said, his voice low as he leaned forward.
She turned from her conversation with Donald, her smile fading. “Yes?”
Noah tilted his head slightly to the right, jerking it in the direction of their mothers as subtly as he could.
“What?” she asked, her brow furrowing.
He flicked his eyes toward the mothers, and Hannah seemed to catch on, turning her attention down the table. But whatever she saw there was not enough tokeepher attention. She spun her gaze back to Donald, who was patiently waiting to finish their conversation.
“Hannah,” Noah hissed again.
She lifted wide eyes to him, likely exasperated from his insistence. But she was about to be fed to the wolves, and he wanted her to have some inkling of what was going on. He propped his elbow on the table, holding his hand straight beside his face to block his other hand that pointed in the direction of Lady Chatham and Mrs. Gibbons.
Hannah’s eyes narrowed, and she gazed down at them. Finally, she shook her head and shrugged at him, apparently unable to hear their conversation. If Donald would only stop talking, perhaps she would be able to. Goodness, his older brother had not even made her laugh once this whole night. Noah needed to rectify that. But how could he from across the table?
After Hannah finished her soup, Donald served her portions of meat, onions, and potatoes from a steaming dish. As Donald pulled his arm back from filling Hannah’s plate, his elbow knocked into his wineglass, causing it to teeter on the table. Hannah gasped, and Noah looked up to see her eyes widen as she watched its fate, but Donald masterfully gripped the stem and steadied it.
Noah shook his head. Only Donald would have such luck as to actually stop the glass from falling. If it were anyone else, Noah was quite certain it would have fallen over and spilled everywhere. Noah raised his glass, taking three large swallows before setting it back down. He looked up to see Hannah studying him before giving him a gentle nod, as if asking,are you all right?
He smiled, his hand freezing on the stem of his glass when he noticed her thoughtful gaze. After a moment, he bobbed his head, letting her know he was fine. But when he removed his grip from the delicate stem, it tipped over, landing with a loud clang.
“Goodness,” he said, standing and using his napkin to blot up the mess. A servant rushed over, taking his glass and wiping up the spill as Noah retook his seat. He made the mistake of looking again at Hannah.
