Egerton only nodded.
Noah’s mind went to the balcony and the red-haired young lady who had overheard a rather embarrassing stain on his life.
“Forgive me, sir,” Egerton continued. “I had assumed you would need something in only a moment and so I waited.”
“Yes, yes. Very good, Egerton. I apologize. I am a bit stressed.” Egerton really was too good of a man for employment here. “Would you please send a note to Willowcrest and inquire if I may use an extra room for an hour? At two o’clock. And then send a note to Mr. Jennings and let him know of the change in location.”
“Happily, sir.” Egerton walked over to the pile, grabbing the crumpled paper with both arms. Then he bowed, a small bald spot showing on the crown of his head before he snapped up and strode from the room.
Noah went upstairs to his bedchamber, changing into his deep-blue coat. It had always been his lucky coat at school. Perhaps it would offer a change in tide regarding his career as well. He didn’t bother calling for Egerton after the debacle he had seen. Perhaps it was best that he was alone for an hour to quietly contemplate his life and leave others out of his toxicity. He did not know how to handle these feelings—ones of confusion, hurt, and insecurity. Until a week ago, Noah had felt secure in Margaret’s affections and even in his career. But now, it was as if a veil had been ripped from his eyes. What else had he not seen?
Noah strode out the front door of his home, opting to walk instead of ride. He needed to work off his frustration, and a rigorous hike seemed just the thing. Not to mention it would give his family a bit more warning before he burst through their doors.
The sun hid behind a thin layer of clouds, perfect for his gloomy mood. He scanned the landscape, his gaze catching on a patch of goldenrod and cornflowers, and moisture pooled in his eyes. All Noah could think of was Margaret’s golden curls and cornflower blue eyes. And whenever he thought of Margaret, a searing pain wrenched his heart. All those dreams of them having a family, chasing children about the yard, sitting at their family table and adoring her—all gone. Noah would have teased her about something, and he could envision Margaret throwing her head back with that beautiful laugh of hers. A familiar, yet distant dream. If he had waited a year, would she have said yes? If his estate had been more desirable, perhaps she wouldn’t have turned him down.
Noah stomped atop the soggy grass near the pond. The pond where he had rowed on his family’s little boat with Margaret, fawning over her with compliments of her sweetness and beauty, her gentle spirit and loving heart.
Willowcrest came into view on the crest of the hill, and Noah took more determined steps, welcoming the burn in his legs as he fought against the incline. He would arrive at the rear of the estate, but no one would think twice about it. All knew who he was, considering this had been his home up until a week ago.
Noah took a deep breath, thinking of his next appointment. He needed to secure this man’s case. Not just for financial reasons, but as a matter of his own pride. If he couldn’t gain this client, how could he blame Margaret for her refusal? It would only further prove how unprepared he was to take on a family. And yet, that was what Noah desired most of all. The job was simply a means to an end.
He huffed a breath, thinking of different ways to prove himself to Mr. Jennings. Perhaps if he practiced speaking aloud, he would come off more self-assured. “Good afternoon, Mr. Jennings. Thank you so much for meeting me today.” Yes, that sounded decent. Confident and kind. He should give it another go. “I so appreciate you coming today and considering my services. I believe you will see all that I have to offer your client when it comes to legal services.” Noah forced a smile, just as he planned to do during their meeting, striking out a hand as if to shake with the nonexistent client. “I agree, sir. We would make an excellent pair. I am so glad you agree.” Noah shook his head. He had just said “agree” twice. That would not do at all. What was another phrase he could use?
The sound of crunching stone made his head snap up, knowing it meant he had arrived at the back patio. Then Noah’s feet froze as three pairs of eyes stared at him.
“Darling,” his mother said, her dark hair hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Her head was tilted at an angle, and her smile seemed tense. “Who were you talking to?”
Noah’s gaze slid over the chairs clustered about the small table, horror creeping through his limbs. Had everyone heard him?
And then his eyes halted.
No. It couldn’t be. Fate simply could not be so cruel a mistress. And yet, he had no doubt.
“Noah,” his mother said, standing and taking a step toward him. “Please meet Mrs. Gibbons and her daughter, Miss Hannah Gibbons. They are new in Warthford, so I invited them for tea.”
Noah bowed, taking the brief moment to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. He should have just stayed home and dealt with the disastrous wall.
He gave Mrs. Gibbons his attention, noting the faint red hue to her dark hair. “I am very pleased to meet you.” He then turned toward her daughter, her hair even brighter under the light of day. “Miss Gibbons,” he said with a nod. What must she think of him? She had now met him twice, and both times were some of the lowest of his life. “I apologize that I cannot stay and visit.” He looked at his mother. “I have a meeting within the hour that I must prepare for.”
A smothered laugh caught his attention, and his eyes swung toward Miss Gibbons. She bit her lip, then brought her white-gloved hand up over her mouth. But her eyes betrayed her, practically sparkling with mirth.
Mrs. Gibbons’s neck tightened as she reached over, taking her daughter’s hand. “Please excuse, Hannah. She seems to have a bit of hay fever. You know how it is with all the flowers in bloom.” The older woman tipped her head down, her gaze fixating on the side of her daughter’s face.
Noah smiled. “Of course. I do hope you ladies enjoy your visit. The weather is perfect for tea outdoors.”But rather imperfect for his sour mood, he neglected to add. Sheer curiosity about whether the young Miss Gibbons had managed to control herself caused him to seek another glimpse of her. But, much to his surprise, her face no longer held a hint of a laugh. Instead, she was studying him—hand on her chin, nose tilted slightly up, eyes narrowed. And that was his cue to leave.
“Excuse me.” He bowed with one of his winning smiles, garnering a look of satisfaction from Mrs. Gibbons as he turned and strode toward the glass-paned doors leading into the back drawing room. From there, he made quick work finding his father’s study, pacing the Indian rug his father had imported last year at Anthony’s insistence in one of his few letters. Noah’s brother loved anything flashy or that caused tongues to wag. Their father indulged him to keep the relationship in good standing.
They hadn’t seen Anthony in two years.
Noah sat down, only to stand back up and resume his pacing. If he sat, thoughts of Margaret and her rejection found a way to settle in his mind. If he moved, however, he almost felt as if he could outrun them. All he had to do was stay busy. And being alone was preferable for now, as only his brother knew of Noah’s recent rejection, and he wasn’t particularly keen on the remainder of his family finding out. The situation with their families would be precarious once news spread.
“Noah?”
Noah jerked toward the door, where his eldest brother Donald stood with a quirked brow, his body filling out a good portion of the frame. “Oh, sorry. Did you not receive the notice that I was coming?”
“I did not,” Donald said with a shrug, walking into the room. “But that is of no consequence. Did you need something?” He went to the desk, seemingly searching for something, before he peered back at Noah over his shoulder.
“Yes, I wondered if I could use this space at two o’clock. Assuming neither you nor father have need of it. I would hate to put anyone out.”
