His father put a hand to his chin as he glanced back at the house once more. It was as if he couldn’t quite comprehend the new information. “So ever since she came back, you had already been rejected by her.”
“I didn’t want to disappoint you. I was torn because I don’t wish to be with her anymore. I had offered for her, and I knew it was what you and Mother wanted—”
His father held a hand up. “Slow down. This is a lot to take in.” He sighed, rubbing his brow. “We didn’t have all the information. If she refused you, then you have no obligation to her.”
Exhaustion crept through Noah’s extremities. Nerves had been running through him like stallions left to run free, but now the stampede came to a halt, and he wanted nothing more than to shove his face into his pillow and go to bed. “I am tired. Please give my sympathies for my untimely departure. I cannot go back in there. Margaret and I had . . . words.”
His father put a hand to his brow. “Blast, Noah. I really wish you had told us sooner.”
“I am sorry,” he said, looking down at the gravel.
“I will say you felt ill and had to leave.”
“Thank you.” Noah turned to go home.
“And Noah?”
He stopped in his tracks. “Yes?”
Gravel crunched as his father walked up behind him and put a hand to his shoulder. “I am sorry too. We will talk tomorrow. All right?”
Noah nodded. “All right.”
Chapter 25
Hecouldn’tsleep.Tryas he might, thoughts kept him awake, tormenting him. Images of Hannah being wooed by Swinton. Swinton’s lips caressing the tender skin on her hand, his fingertips trailing across her skin. For a moment, Noah had dozed, but awoke only an hour later from dreams that picked up where his thoughts had left off.
Noah padded over to his window and looked out at the vast expanse of sky and stars. The moon was bright, casting shadows from trees across the grass. He rubbed his chest as a strangling feeling clawed at him. Words begged to be free of his tongue, but who would listen?
Hannah. . .
His friend. His confidant. His everything. He pressed his brow against the cool glass panes, pinching his eyes shut. What a cruel situation it was. Hannah was hurting, he was lost and confused, and now they weren’t even speaking with one another.
Noah’s eyes followed the shadows along the grass—the moon bright and clear.
Before he had made a conscious decision, he was pulling on breeches and a shirt and slipping his boots on as quickly as his hands would allow. Running his fingers through his tangle of hair, he slipped out his door and made his way to the stables. If Mrs. Gibbons wouldn’t let them speak, if she really had her heart set on Swinton for Hannah’s hand, Noah would circumvent Mrs. Gibbons and speak to Hannah on his own. They owed that much to each other after the last couple of months together.
He slowed his mount as he crept along the tree line. It brought back memories from the night on the bluffs. How he had held Hannah to his chest as they rode together in the dark. His ignorance stared at him in the face. What Noah had thought was only an adventure with his friend had upheaved everything as he knew it. The need to hold Hannah as she cried, but not knowing how to do so under the circumstance. It had awakened something in him. A desire to touch her—to make her hurt go away.
Noah tied up the reins as he looked over his shoulder toward Highgrove. He knew the exact window to her bedroom, and his mind conjured up images of her red hair strewn across her pillow.
As he walked toward her window, the familiarity played with his mind—as if this wasn’t even a different night at all, and if he threw a pebble at Hannah’s window, she would come down and expect him to take her to the bluffs. But this time, he would know what she intended, and instead of reacting as he had . . .
A small stone on the ground caught his attention, and he bent over to pick it up, rubbing his thumb over the smooth edge as he straightened. He counted the windows, and then he let his pebble loose.
It seemed an eternity that he waited for Hannah to appear. And when she didn’t, he looked about for more stones. He found another and threw it. Then another and another. Finally, after the fifth stone, a familiar shape appeared behind the glass. At first, she just stood staring out and looking for the source of the sound.
And then he threw one more.
She jerked, then glanced down to where he stood. Leaning forward, she pressed her fingers to the glass. Their gazes held, one of her hands laying on her chest as the other rested against the pane. And then she disappeared.
Noah waited, anxious to see her and know if she was well. Nerves swirled in his stomach as he briefly wondered if Swinton had already offered for her. But his thoughts came to a rushing halt the moment Hannah slipped out the back door.
His feet moved with a new lightness as he walked toward her. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders, same as before. But now, instead of only admiring her beauty, he wanted to run his hands through the strands. To know what it felt like to touch her and be touched by her.
“Noah?” Hannah pulled her cloak tighter about her as she drew near. “What is wrong?”
He swallowed, his gaze tracing her features. Her green-brown eyes, the soft slope of her cheek and the bow of her upper lip.
