“Noah . . .” Margaret began, dipping her chin and lowering her voice.
“Father,” Noah called out. Margaret jerked beside him at his abrupt address. But Noah did not want to hear what Margaret had to say. And judging by the tone of her voice, she planned to say plenty.
Lord Chatham looked over from his conversation with Donald. “Yes, Noah?”
“Is there anything to report from the House of Lords?”
His father’s brow rose. It was not often that Noah inquired after political matters, but at the moment, anything sounded better than listening to Margaret. He wasn’t sure he could bear it, not when his mind and heart were such a muddled mess. Everything felt raw, and Noah wasn’t about to just continue on with Margaret as if nothing had changed between them.
A picture of red hair billowing in the wind, soft green eyes, and a genuine smile spreading across rosy lips crept into his mind. He would much rather Hannah be at the seat beside him than Margaret. Hannah would know what to say to make him feel better and lift his spirits. Only, he wasn’t sure Hannah would wish to see him at all after last night. The thought brought his mood even lower.
“So,” Lord Chatham continued, and Noah snapped his mind back to attention, “that was the biggest matter we discussed. I wasn’t entirely pleased with the choice that was made, but I put in my argument, and that was all I could do.”
Noah hadn’t heard a thing his father had said. Not a word of it. So, he did his best to appear interested and nodded. Noah would have to ask his father again later when he could actually give him his genuine attention.
“Noah,” his mother said from across the table. She was in her glory with her friend back at her side, all smiles and lively conversation. “Don’t you think that our Margaret would get along splendidly with Miss Gibbons?”
Noah’s mouth dropped open.OurMargaret? Would this night ever end? His eyes strayed to Margaret, who watched him with an expectant brow. “I . . .” Noah swallowed. “That will have to be decided by the ladies themselves.”
“I am sure we would get along,” Margaret intervened, lightly placing her hand on his forearm. It felt as if she was claiming him and Hannah in one swift motion. “If she is a friend of Noah, I am sure we would be a perfect match.”
Noah dipped his chin to his chest.
Heaven help him.
Chapter 22
Hannah’sgazewashedoverherself in the looking glass, and she ran a trembling hand over the light beading on the bodice.
“Are you all right, Miss Gibbons?”
That had to be at least the third time Joyce had asked that question since she began helping Hannah get ready for the Chatham’s ball. And about the fiftieth time she had asked since Hannah came back from her evening with Noah at the bluffs. The evening where she made a fool of herself and ruined their friendship forever. And Hannah gave Joyce the same answer every time Joyce asked.
“Yes, I am fine.”
And same as the other times, it was a lie.
“Well, you don’t seem fine.” Joyce clasped an emerald and diamond necklace around Hannah’s neck. “But you look right pretty.”
Hannah smiled. “Thank you, Joyce. You are too kind.”
“Kindness has nothing to do with it. It is a simple fact.”
After looking over her appearance one last time, she gave Joyce an approving nod, then left the room. Hannah’s feet were slow, heavy, and reluctant—walking the halls and stairs as if she were a man wrongly accused and heading to his sentence at the gallows. She held her head high, but inside, a war ensued. Noah would be in attendance, unless he found a clever way out of the evening. And Hannah would be expected to dance and socialize with men from all over the county, all at the benevolence of her hostess.
While Hannah had never entertained the idea until the other day, she was beginning to truly wonder if Lady Chatham was hosting this ball upon realizing Hannah’s feelings toward her son. Regardless of the reason, Hannah was going to do her best to appear charming and well-mannered. Mrs. Gibbons expected a marriage soon, so Hannah would do what she had to. It was either that, or her mother would march up to Lord Chatham and demand her cruel form of justice.
Perhaps Hannah’s impulsivity had gone too far this time. She formed a friendship with a man knowing his heart belonged to another, and then she developed feelings and went ahead and kissed him. She sounded a bit mad when she laid out all the facts in a line and followed them to their conclusion.
All too soon they arrived at Lord Chatham’s home, and Hannah found herself wishing for more time to prepare herself. She put a hand to her middle as their conveyance rolled to a stop, taking slow breaths as she tried not to tear up. Glowing lanterns lined the front of the estate and carriages speckled the drive, reminding Hannah of all the other guests and the men she would have to dance with tonight.
Mr. Gibbons exited the carriage, then helped Hannah and her mother down. The gravel crunched beneath her slipper as she set her feet on the ground. The walk to the door was entirely too short, and Hannah saw Noah as soon as they walked into the entry hall. He stood fourth in line after Lord and Lady Chatham and Donald, speaking with an older couple and greeting them with a smile. He looked dashing as ever in his evening attire, perfectly tailored to his frame.
“My, Miss Gibbons,” Lady Chatham said, drawing Hannah’s attention away from Noah. “You look positively stunning. I fear we will have to chase the men away with a stick.”
Hannah smiled, dipping her head. “Thank you, my lady.”
Donald greeted her with a slight dip of the head and a smile, and then Hannah wasn’t sure where to look. She wondered if she should scurry ahead and save herself the embarrassment, or be polite and do her best to pretend nothing had happened between them.
