Page 1 of A Beguiled Gentleman (The Bradley Brothers #1)

Chapter 1

A man in love could forge through any element if it meant he got to see his beloved. Which is why, though cold with a biting wind, Noah stood on the precipice of the bluffs at the edge of his family’s estate. Moonlight glinted across the turbulent surface of the water, and he closed his eyes, letting the roaring of the waves wash away his nerves. He needed a moment to remember this feeling. One of elation and joy and hope. He wished to fully capture the memory of how it felt to know he was about to ask Margaret to be his wife. They would soon get to fill the halls of their home with laughter and the squeals of children; a melody that he ached to hear.

Noah opened his eyes and reached a hand into his jacket, pulling out the familiar foolscap, worn about the edges from being opened and closed everyday so he could read the words anew and fall in love all over again.

My Dear Noah . . .

He filled his chest with a full, deep breath.

The other night under the stars was one I shall never forget. I will treasure the words you shared with me, and I hope you will also treasure this small token of my affection.

The letter was two pages long, but he only read his favorite portions. They fed his confidence amongst his wavering nerves. With trembling hands, he carefully folded the letter back into the smallest square Margaret could have managed, which made it easy for her to slip it to him in passing—along with a small lock of her hair, which he kept tucked away in his desk.

“Margaret—” His voice was quiet against the sound of the ocean. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He shook his head. No. That didn’t sound nearly romantic enough. “Margaret. These last six months have made me happier than I previously thought possible. You are the moon and I am the tide which bends to your will.” Too much? He tried again. “Margaret,” he said on a whooshing breath. “I love you. Simply, purely, and wholly. Please, do me the great privilege of accepting my hand in marriage.”

He pressed his fingertips to the small note hidden beneath his jacket. Then, with a fresh burst of confidence, he pulled himself atop his horse and rode toward the Lindfields'. Margaret had said she would be there, and what with Noah just having settled into the dower house that very day, what could be a better opportunity? His life was before him, and today was the day he took his first leap.

Handing his horse off to a valet, he strode into the Lindfields' home.

Noah wove his way through the crush of people, warmth seeping through his jacket as he meandered further into the room. But he did not mind in the least, for he had one single goal for the evening—and the recipient of his attention was in his sight. Heart beating at a rapid pace, he couldn’t help the wide smile that took over his face. She looked stunning beneath the candlelight, her blonde curls kissing her cheeks, her smile bright as she spoke with those around her.

He stumbled over an older woman’s foot, eliciting a scowl from her. If only she knew his goal, then perhaps she would be more forgiving or understanding. How could a man in love be expected to watch for every impediment in their path?

“Excuse me,” Noah muttered, his words aimed at no one particular person as he brushed up against everyone. He needed to get to Margaret before someone asked for her next set.

Margaret turned, her eyes locking with his. Noah stood up on the tips of his toes, rising a head higher than those around him. Reaching his hand up into the air, he heralded her to wait for him to get closer. She gave him a hesitant smile, then turned back to another gentleman in the party surrounding her.

Noah pushed harder through the crowd, murmuring apologies that likely went unheard under the crushing sound of the other guests. Finally, he arrived beside her, quite out of breath from his efforts. “Margaret,” he said, then took a quick gulp of air before rushing on. “Might I request an audience with you before the evening is over?”

Her eyes widened, and she glanced at those around her before bringing her attention back to him. “Is something wrong?” She dipped her chin.

“Wrong?” His brow creased even as his grin widened. “No, of course not. I just wanted a word—” he paused and then lowered his voice. “I wanted a word alone, is all.”

Margaret’s eyes flicked to her mother, who stood nearby with a cluster of people. “I suppose I should be able to manage it.”

He nodded. “Good. I look forward to it.” Then he remembered his manners. “Miss Lewiston, might I have the next dance?”

“Oh.” She chewed her lip. “My next dance is taken.”

Of course it was. If the men surrounding her were any indication . . . “Do you have any dances left?” he asked, his stomach sinking even as he asked. Goodness, if only he hadn’t been late! But surely she would have saved a dance for him.

Margaret looked at her feet. “My dances are all taken. I’m sorry, No—” she stopped halfway through saying his name. “Lord Noah.”

He laughed, the air about him light. Nothing could stop the joy from bubbling up inside of him. Not tonight. “No need to be so impersonal,” he said, leaning close and adding in a whisper, “Margaret.”

She flicked her fan open, covering her face and smiling as an attractive blush crept over her cheeks. “Noah, please. Someone could hear.”

“In this room? I highly doubt it.”

She peered over her fan before looking back at him. “I will meet you outside after the third set is complete. On the main balcony?”

“Yes,” he said as he grabbed her hand.

She chuckled. “Noah, whatever has gotten into you tonight?”

He ran his fingers over her glove. “We will talk. After the third set,” he said, confirming their plans.

Her brow pinched, but she smiled. “Yes. The third set.”

Noah let her hand go before more eyes swung in their direction. But soon it wouldn’t matter. Soon he would be able to clasp her hands in public without a care. He could claim her lips and hold her close to his heart as it beat out a melody of love for her.

He gave her one last parting smile. “I look forward to it.”

The dances went on at an agonizing pace as Noah waited for each set to come to a close. Why was it that as someone greatly anticipated something, it seemed to make time go slower? Time should be constant, whether one wished for it to be or not.

But, finally, the third set ended, and Margaret gave a graceful curtsy to her partner. Noah hardly waited for the last strains of music to come to an end before he rushed out to the balcony, his heart beating wildly.

He leaned against the balustrade, taking a cleansing breath of the crisp, night air.

“Noah?”

He spun about, his smile widening as Margaret walked out toward him. The double doors on either end were open wide, allowing a level of decorum to their privacy.

Noah met her halfway and took her hands in his, unable to quell the excited energy that coursed through him. His thumbs stroked circles on the backs of her hands. “You look radiant tonight.” His eyes roamed over her face as he took in her beautiful blue eyes, dainty nose, and small but perfectly shaped lips.

“Thank you,” she said on a breath, likely out of air from her last dance. “Now, what is it you wanted to tell me? Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all. I just wanted to tell you that I have moved into the dower house. Today. It is done.”

“Done.” Her chin lowered, her eyes still holding his.

“Yes. Which means Meadowview is now in need of a mistress.” Noah’s mouth quirked up at the edge, his eyes never leaving hers. “And I think I know just the lady that would suit the part.”

“Oh?” Margaret’s voice pitched higher than normal.

“Yes. And, since you have not yet asked who it is, I can confidently say that I desire that lady to be . . . Miss Margaret Lewiston.” So much for his rehearsed declaration.

Her grip intensified and her neck tightened as she took a quick swallow. “What are you saying, Noah?”

Surely he wasn’t being so subtle that she could mistake him. “Margaret. I am asking if you would do me the honor of taking my hand.”

She stared at him but made no move to open her mouth. The thick silence stretched between them.

“In marriage,” he added, in case he had somehow made a muck of things and wasn’t being as clear as he thought he was.

Margaret finally opened her mouth, taking a deep breath as if to speak. Her eyes made several passes back and forth between him and the other end of the balcony before finally ending on him. “Noah, perhaps this isn’t the place to discuss such things.”

He stared at her as the air in his lungs became stale, yet he couldn’t bring himself to draw in another breath. Finally, words found purchase on his tongue. “What do you mean, Margaret? I thought you would be excited to hear the news. Expectant of it, even.”

She pulled her hands from his, looking to her right once more as she cleared her throat. “And what, may I ask, gave you that idea?”

A scowl formed on his brow. “We spoke several months ago in a way that left no doubt.”

Margaret couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. “I . . . do not recall such a conversation.”

Noah’s heart plummeted to his feet, his head becoming light and dazed. The evidence of her knowledge was literally placed against his chest. “Then let me remind you. We were outside your father’s drawing room gazing up at the stars, and I had told you that you looked particularly lovely in the shade of ivory you were wearing, to which you said—”

“Enough,” she interrupted, her cheeks reddening. “I think you are mistaken, Lord Noah.”

“What is with all this ‘Lord Noah’ nonsense? You have not called me that in years. Perhaps never.”

“I see what this is.” She shook her head, as if finally making sense of the whole scene. “You wish to secure me before another man has a chance?”

Noah’s head jerked back, her words hitting him like a slap to the face. “No, of course not. Whatever could you mean by saying such things? I love you, Margaret. I want to marry you and grow old with you.”

This seemed to give her pause.

“It’s just—” Margaret had the decency to look away. She closed her eyes, as if accepting her ruse would not fool him. How could she have ever assumed it would? He knew the truth and so did she. She rubbed a finger against the back of her hand. “My father has decided to allow me a season in London.”

Noah’s stomach released its tension in a moment. Why would she think that would be an impediment to their marriage? “I would be happy to take you to London. We could go to shows, or whatever it is that you desire.”

“No, Noah. You misunderstand.” She put a hand out, giving her head a quick shake. “His investments took a turn as of late, and now I have a more . . . attractive dowry. With a season in London, Father hopes—”

The meaning of her words finally seeped into his thick skull. But he had been taken so unawares, so completely unprepared for what she was saying that he filled in the gaps with what he thought to be logical. “Are you saying you do not want me?” He paused, his heart restricting as his hopes and dreams and desires were snatched from his grasp. “That you would rather go to London and see if you can make a better match?” His words ended in a whisper, his mind hardly able to grasp what he was saying.

Margaret wrung her hands together, her gloves making the motion smooth and fluid. “Please understand, Noah. If you had asked even a month ago, I would have said yes.”

“And that is supposed to make me feel better?” Noah’s voice cracked as it rose, so he cleared his throat. “I had to get my estate figured out. I could not offer for you before I was settled. Your father never would have allowed that.”

“I know,” she said, eyes wincing shut. “But I had not anticipated this sudden change in my fate.”

“You mean to say what I had to offer you was good enough when your family was less wealthy, but now that you have the funds, I am suddenly not a worthy suitor?”

Margaret opened her eyes, dragging them back up to his face. “When you say it like that, it makes me sound heartless.” She took a slow breath, her gaze flicking down to the lantern-lit path below them. “In our world, this is the way things work. My father wants what is best for me, therefore I do not have much choice in the matter. You should know that.”

Noah shook his head, looking down to his feet. “And yet,” he said, “I had not even thought it possible. I thought you loved me as I love you.”

Margaret ran her hand over the balustrade before she clasped it with the other in front of her. “I did care for you. I do . But we are still so young. You are only twenty-two years old. Do you not wish to see what else there is?”

“You mean, who else?”

She swallowed, looking down. “I just had not imagined living in the dower house, Noah. Your father is a marquess. I had thought—”

“That he would give me a house of my choosing?”

She scoffed. “It’s not as if he cannot afford it.”

“And you would be fine with that? I want to be able to afford a home of my own one day, on my own merit.” He put a hand to his chest. “It is generous enough that they are providing me a living on their estate.”

“And what of your clients?” She continued, making his stomach harden more. “How many cases have you had?”

“Several,” he shot back.

“Recently.”

His breathing grew ragged. She was correct. He had a failed case in court three months ago and has had a difficult time gaining clients ever since. But surely that would get better. It was only a minor setback in his career. He had only been practicing as a barrister for a year.

Noah ran a hand over his face. “I have planned my life around you and now you are leaving? Just like that?”

“I . . . I should have told you sooner. But my father only offered a trip to London two weeks ago.”

“And do your plans while in London contain the hopes of a proposal?” He pulled his hand away from his face.

She closed her eyes. “Perhaps. If a suitable gentleman were to offer.”

Suitable. Suitable . As if he were not.

“I think I should go.” Margaret took a step back, running a hand up her arm.

“Yes,” he said, barely managing the word, his whole body numb. “I think that would be best.” He stared down at the path, fixating on a tree as its branches swayed with the light breeze.

Noah waited as long as he could before turning his head to watch her walk away, but she had not made it through the door yet. So many questions clanged about in his mind. In a moment, everything he thought to be true—Margaret’s feelings, his future—were all snatched from him. He wanted to understand. There had to be more. One did not throw away their love and future so easily. Before allowing himself enough time to think over his actions, he put a foot out, making his way to her.

One step became two, then became three until he lost count. He was certain he would reach her before she disappeared into the crowd.

He lifted his hand. “Margare—”

Then the next moment was a blur of lights, images turning the wrong way, and shock at the feeling of a person in his arms as he and said person tumbled down to the hard marble floor.

He laid still for only a moment before remembering that he had crashed into someone, and—he was quickly realizing by the soft rose scent and smooth, exposed skin—that person was decidedly female.

“Excuse me,” he said, scrambling to his feet and holding out a hand. When he looked down, he was greeted by a head of fiery red hair.

The young woman situated herself into a sitting position. “Not to worry. I am not hurt.”

Noah could not make out her features since she kept her face turned to the floor while attempting to gain her footing. He did his best to help, supporting her weight with his hand.

“Thank goodness.” He sighed, grateful his single-mindedness hadn’t caused her injury. “You are certain?”

His hand dipped as she pulled harder on it to stand fully. She turned her face toward him, and he found himself staring. Her eyes were a mesmerizing mix of soft green and . . . brown? He couldn’t quite make out the exact color in the dim light.

“Are you all right?” she asked, her brow raised as he stared.

Assured the young lady was steady on her feet, Noah pulled his hand out of her grasp, then ran it up the back of his neck. The fact that she asked if he was all right when they were both knocked to the ground was surprising. “Yes, I am . . .” What was he, exactly? Physically he was fine, but emotionally he was anything but. Surely she was inquiring after his physical health. “I’m fine,” he reiterated. “Thank you for asking. I do apologize for my clumsiness.” Noah glanced over his shoulder. Unsurprisingly, Margaret was gone.

“It was not your fault. You seemed a bit preoccupied.”

The young lady’s words tickled his ears, but his distraction made it difficult to think. He realized his rudeness, and turned to give her the best of his attention that he could manage. “You saw me?”

Instead of answering his question, she stretched her neck, rising to glance over his shoulder. “Who was that young woman?”

The love of his life. The one Noah had dreamed of marrying and carrying over the threshold of Meadowview toward years of laughter and bliss. He could hardly believe that was not to be his future anymore. He dipped his face. “Miss—” He paused and cleared his throat. “Miss Margaret Lewiston.”

“Oh.” She flattened her feet flat against the floor. “It is only that I wished to ask her where she acquired her gloves. The lace pattern is quite lovely.”

Embarrassment clawed up his neck. If she was able to discern the quality of Margaret’s gloves, what else had she seen? Assuming she had overheard his and Margaret’s conversation, Noah wanted nothing more than to burrow into a hole and die a thousand deaths.

“I will be sure to ask her,” he lied. His manners were running thin as his throat burned. Goodness, he would not cry in front of this stranger. “Please, excuse me.” Noah gave her a quick bow before turning on his heel, ready to make a swift escape.

“Wait.” She reached a hand out, grabbing his arm.

He stopped and stared as the touch seared into his skin. Had a lady ever been so bold with him before?

She kept his arm in her grasp as she pushed on. “If you would only give me your name so that I can properly thank you for helping me, sir.”

He swallowed against the growing lump in his throat. “Lord Noah Bradley.” He took a deep breath. “Now, is that all? I am afraid I have to go.”

The woman’s green eyes widened. “ Lord Noah?”

The young lady was clearly new to Warthford, for Noah was quite sure there wasn’t a family in all of the county, if not all of England, who did not know the name of his father, the Marquess of Chatham—and subsequently, his five sons. “Yes,” he said, giving a small nod.

“I apologize. I had only—“ She cut herself off, pinching her lips closed.

Noah’s throat tightened. This was the worst night of his entire life, and now he was sitting here speaking with a stranger who had just witnessed it all. He wanted to go home and curl up in bed. Perhaps have a cup of tea. Standing here and making small talk was not a skill he possessed at the moment.

“Excuse me, miss,” Noah said. “But I really must go. Good evening.” He strode toward the stairs leading down to the garden, not wishing to go back and face those inside. And as Noah whisked down the steps, the cool breeze washing against his skin, he swore he could feel the eyes of the red-haired young lady watching him go.