Page 55 of Noble Charms

He couldn’t come up with a response and couldn’t bear to look into Morgan’s thoughtful gaze. Noble looked out across the pool instead. The whole space was surrounded by glass walls, and attached to a Men's Club he frequented back in his singleton days a decade ago. The other men paid him and Morgan little mind—he wasn't the wealthiest patron present, and the gossip about his divorce had long disappeared under the many other scandals within New Hieroph. The mayor apparently had a cat-hoarding problem. She'd purchased a whole second home just for cats.

“You could at least try it with Aria,” said Morgan, breaking the silence. “You two do get along quite well.”

He'd not yet told a soul about what happened at the bread party. But maybe if Morgan heard—maybe Morgan would understand the problem Noble had. “We kissed. Last week.”

Morgan leaned towards him and hissed, “I knew it.” He grinned and reached out to pinch Noble's arm. “I knew it!"

Noble chuckled, bolstered by Morgan's sudden upswing in manner, and said, “It's not like that. We kissed as friends.”

“Noble, we've been companions for a great many years, and not once have we ever come close to such a thing.” Morgan rolled his eyes. “What manner of nonsense is a friend kiss?”

Noble exhaled. He needed to steer the conversation back on course. He needed Morgan and Aria to court, because that would be the solution. His problem, solved. “I kissed him, and I do not plan to do it again. Morgan, I like women.” He paused and sighed with a kind of relief, because he truly meant it. “I love women.”

“As do I.” Morgan said, “That doesn't mean I also don't love men.”

“It's not the same.” Noble shook his head and said, “I'm seeking a wife specifically. And I don't want Aria in such a way. He's a fine fellow, and a dear friend, but that's all. If I marry a woman of the right status, I could be given the title of duke, you know. My uncle would bequeath such a thing to me, as a gift, for my second wedding. If I find the right girl.” Virginia had come from a titleless family, but there were other women out there, in nobility, with far more power. He just had to tap in. Noble smiled his most pleasing, pleading grin, knowing his charms were often ineffective against Morgan. “You must come with us to dinner. Step out with Aria. Give him a proper try. How blessed would I be if my two closest companions married, and I was able to see you both together every passing day?”

Morgan looked as if he'd say no. But instead, he stroked his beardless chin, and squinted in thought. “Fine, then. I agree to one dinner with you two.”

Noble shook a fist in victory between them both. “I'll endeavor for you both to have a great meal.”

Morgan asked, “When is this group date you've planned?”

“Tonight. Come to mine at eight—we've got a chef coming in-house to cook.” For Romy's sake—Aria wanted to make sure she had a comfortable start to her pursuit of a new love. Noble didn’t often hire help, but he was trying to be more like the other titled elites. Some of them had a chef come every single day. He could spare a night.

Morgan climbed to his feet, damp instead of wet at this point, and said, “I would like to state, for posterity, that I think this is a terrible idea. Like most of your ideas.”

Noble stood, popping his spine, and released a yawn. He needed to head home for a nap before all of this. He'd struggled to get a good night's sleep as of late. “It's a good idea, and you're going to fall in love, and you’ll owe me a hearty thanks.”

And the most shocking of all: Noble was right. Morgan would fall in love this night.

And it was only going to make things worse.

PART III: THE MANY MONTHS

7

A BOLD MOVE

ARIA

Aria leaned out the open archway, catching the tail end of Romy giving her thick fur coat to the doorman at the front. She thanked him and caught sight of Aria at the end of the corridor. She mouthed, “By Elys!” and gestured silently at Noble's home.

Yes, it was striking. Gleaming, warm mahogany wood accented the twelve-foot-tall ceilings with moulding and baseboards, and the art displayed in refined frames made it seem akin to a museum. But the soft rugs, warming lanterns, and sweeping views of the avenue and river outside made the atmosphere cozy and inviting. Add the mouth-watering scent of potatoes and onion drifting from the chef in the kitchen⁠—

Romy's reaction was warranted. Aria giggled as he stepped out to meet her and said, “I know. I love this place.”

She blinked at him and stepped back from his approach. Aria's stomach dropped in concern, but then she whistled and said, “You look amazing. Which is amazing, because you always look amazing.”

Aria felt the color rush to his face. “Thank you?” He looked down at himself. He wore trousers and a button-down for this evening, rather than one of his more artistic, bardic-style tunics or robes. Since this party was private, at home, and all present already knew his musical ability, Aria had no need to display his music prowess with clothes. The light-brown pants and off-white shirt were dressy and warm, which was a bonus, as temperatures in New Hieroph plunged.

He wore his hair half-up, half-down, having donned his most expensive solid gold drop earrings. Romy didn't hesitate to reach out and stroke a strand in front of his ear. “I'm always awed by your hair. Elys truly blessed you. It probably never tangles, huh?”

Aria laughed as Noble entered the hall and said, “It does. It's all an illusionary trick—his hair is hair. You mustn't be fooled.”

Aria's pulse raced as Romy and Noble took each other in. “Romy, this is Lord Yves St. Clair. Noble, this is Romy Singer. A retired dancer from The Bardic Post.”

She offered her hand, and Noble folded at the waist to kiss the back of her fingers. “Please, call me Noble. It's nice to meet you properly,” he said. “I remember you from the bookstore.” He stood straight and winked. “You're hard to forget.”