Page 17 of A Beguiled Gentleman (The Bradley Brothers #1)

Chapter 17

Forks clattered against plates, and gentle conversation filled the air. Noah was keeping a close eye on his mother and Mrs. Gibbons, wondering all the while if his mother’s idea for a ball had yet to be broached. Noah turned, grinning across the table at Hannah. She perked up from her bowl of soup, returning the smile, blissfully unaware of the coming topic of conversation.

Noah wished to warn Hannah of his mother’s plans, but frustratingly, he had received the seat across from her and not beside. It was almost as if his mother had planned it that way, for rarely did Donald take the seat beside Hannah. Of course, as the dutiful heir, he served Hannah her food and engaged her in polite conversation. She nodded and smiled in return, and Noah felt strangely annoyed that he wasn’t the one to be bringing those smiles to her face.

“Hannah,” Noah said, his voice low as he leaned forward.

She turned from her conversation with Donald, her smile fading. “Yes?”

Noah tilted his head slightly to the right, jerking it in the direction of their mothers as subtly as he could.

“What?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

He flicked his eyes toward the mothers, and Hannah seemed to catch on, turning her attention down the table. But whatever she saw there was not enough to keep her attention. She spun her gaze back to Donald, who was patiently waiting to finish their conversation.

“Hannah,” Noah hissed again.

She lifted wide eyes to him, likely exasperated from his insistence. But she was about to be fed to the wolves, and he wanted her to have some inkling of what was going on. He propped his elbow on the table, holding his hand straight beside his face to block his other hand that pointed in the direction of Lady Chatham and Mrs. Gibbons.

Hannah’s eyes narrowed, and she gazed down at them. Finally, she shook her head and shrugged at him, apparently unable to hear their conversation. If Donald would only stop talking, perhaps she would be able to. Goodness, his older brother had not even made her laugh once this whole night. Noah needed to rectify that. But how could he from across the table?

After Hannah finished her soup, Donald served her portions of meat, onions, and potatoes from a steaming dish. As Donald pulled his arm back from filling Hannah’s plate, his elbow knocked into his wineglass, causing it to teeter on the table. Hannah gasped, and Noah looked up to see her eyes widen as she watched its fate, but Donald masterfully gripped the stem and steadied it.

Noah shook his head. Only Donald would have such luck as to actually stop the glass from falling. If it were anyone else, Noah was quite certain it would have fallen over and spilled everywhere. Noah raised his glass, taking three large swallows before setting it back down. He looked up to see Hannah studying him before giving him a gentle nod, as if asking, are you all right ?

He smiled, his hand freezing on the stem of his glass when he noticed her thoughtful gaze. After a moment, he bobbed his head, letting her know he was fine. But when he removed his grip from the delicate stem, it tipped over, landing with a loud clang.

“Goodness,” he said, standing and using his napkin to blot up the mess. A servant rushed over, taking his glass and wiping up the spill as Noah retook his seat. He made the mistake of looking again at Hannah.

She had her hand clamped over her mouth, her eyes wide, and shoulders trembling. Noah brushed his lips, attempting to hide a smile of his own. Taking a deep breath, he tried to rid his chest of the urge to laugh.

“Miss Gibbons,” he said, then cleared his throat. He leaned over his plate toward her.

She tilted up her chin as a pretense of looking at him, but her gaze dipped down to her plate. “Yes, Lord Noah?”

“Would you care for some punch?”

That was all it took. Hannah bent her head down as she shook with laughter, and Noah’s burst free as well.

“I say, you two are made for one another.” Donald looked between the two of them with a slight frown, but after a moment, it softened into a smile.

Hannah sat up, her laughter dissipating as she turned to Donald.

“Oh, come now, Donald,” Noah said, grabbing his fork. “It is not like that. Hannah and I are much like brother and sister.”

Donalds brow puckered. “Except you are not brother and sister.”

“Let us move on, shall we?” Hannah’s neck tightened as her gaze flicked between the two brothers, then she dove into her plate of food. “This pigeon is delightfully seasoned.”

“Yes, it is one of my favorite meals.” Donald’s words drew Noah’s attention, and he was startled to find his brother still watching him with that disconcerting stare. “Our cook is quite exceptional. I am glad you are enjoying it, Miss Gibbons.”

Noah wasn’t sure if he actually heard Donald emphasize Hannah’s name, or if it was only his imagination. Perhaps Noah’s conversation with his mother yesterday had put him on edge.

Dinner came to a close, and the ladies stood to go to the drawing room. Noah hurried around the table, stopping Hannah before she followed Mrs. Gibbons and Lady Chatham.

She looked up at him, askance. “What is it?”

“I’ve wanted to talk to you all evening.”

She raised onto her toes, looking over his shoulder as the mothers left her behind before bringing her gaze back to him. “Very well. What is it you need?”

The shade of her dress brought out more of the green in her eyes, and he found himself distracted for a moment. Then her mouth pulled into a grin. “Noah?”

“Oh, yes.” He shook his head. “I wanted to warn you that Mother is planning a ball.”

Her brow furrowed. “And this is bad news? I do not mind a ball.”

“It is not only that she is hosting a ball. It is the reason for her doing so.”

He had grasped her attention now, and panic had set into her eyes. “Oh?”

“She is planning to invite every eligible gentleman in the county to parade around for you.”

Her head jerked back. “What?”

“She wants to give you every opportunity for a smart match, but I told her you would hate such a thing.”

“You did?” She phrased her words in a way that it did not completely sound like a question. In fact, she sounded a bit put out. Noah knew she would hate such an idea, which is precisely why he had tried to warn his mother away from it in the first place.

“Yes. But she was not to be swayed. She thinks this your best opportunity to find a man you will approve of.”

Hannah gazed off as if her mind was in a whir of thoughts.

“Hannah?”

“Oh.” She jerked, touching her brow. “I am sorry. I just wasn’t expecting this.”

He ran a hand over his lapel. “I know. Which is why I wished to warn you.”

She nodded absently, still staring off into the distance before bringing her gaze back to him. “And you think this a good idea?”

He scoffed. “Hardly. I think it is stupid.”

“Because?” She turned to him. The look in her eyes was different than normal. It wasn’t the comfortable, pleasant gaze that usually accompanied their conversations. It was tense. On edge. Expecting, even.

He searched for words, raising his hands. “Because you shouldn’t have to pick out a man like a needle from a haystack.”

Hannah nodded as she lightly chewed her lip. Her distraction was understandable, and that was the entire point of telling her now. Best to come from him, someone she could be honest with, than to come from his mother, with whom she would have to be polite. Though, he expected a bit more outrage on her part. At most, she seemed mildly flustered.

“Are you going to be all right?” he asked. He put a hand on her shoulder, gently holding it.

She sighed and gave a single nod. “Yes. Thank you for letting me know.”

“Did I do the right thing in telling you?”

Her face fell as her eyes held his. “Yes, Noah. You did the right thing.” She stepped around him, and he turned to watch her go. Her soft green dress swished as she walked, and his eyes trailed over her.

A seed of bitterness sprouted within him as he considered what would occur in two weeks. Hannah being paraded around for men to look at and flirt with. Would they get to know her? To truly know her? He highly doubted they would take the time to learn that she hates raisins but has a taste for currants. Or that she prefers the musical stylings of Rossini over Mozart. Or, that after a long day, she wishes for nothing more than to have someone make her laugh. What if the louse doesn’t care one whit about her and only wants her dowry?

The thought made Noah sick, knowing that was a very real possibility, and one of Hannah’s greatest fears.

When the ladies had all vacated the room, Noah was left with pestering thoughts regarding Hannah’s future. He was so immersed in his own mind that he hardly heard the conversation of the other men. Their words were only a soft droning sound that drifted into one ear and out the other.

The men finished their port and sojourned to the drawing room. Noah’s eyes immediately fell upon Hannah, and he did not hesitate to join her by the fire. He wanted to be sure she was all right and that news of the ball hadn’t upset her. She sat still, her hands clasped in her lap as she stared at the empty firebox.

“Mind if I take a seat?” Noah stood behind a vacant chair that was situated beside hers.

Hannah did not remove her eyes from the hearth. “Of course not.”

He came around, claiming his seat.

“Noah, I have a request for you.” Hannah’s gaze flicked to him, her chin set and her mouth unsmiling.

“Of course.” He rested his hands in front of his stomach as he reclined into his seat. “Anything.”

She shook her head. “You may wish to withhold your ready answer until you know what I am about to ask.”

“You are not going to ask me to run outside and jump in the pond, are you?” He leaned his elbow on the arm of the chair as he grinned at her.

Her mouth gave a slight lift. “No.”

“Because, if that was your request, I would probably do it. I have not had a good dare since all five of us brothers lived under one roof.”

Hannah looked down at her lap. “No, it has nothing to do with the pond.”

His mouth turned down. Something was wrong with her tonight. And he would help in any way he could. “Very well. Then what is it you need? You know I would be happy to be of service.”

Hannah fiddled with the handkerchief she held in her hands. Was she nervous?

Noah looked around to see if anyone was watching them. At the moment, no one seemed to be paying them mind. “Hannah, is everything all right?”

“Yes. I only thought it might be a good idea if . . .”

“If . . .” he prompted her to continue.

She lifted her face, and a challenge was in her gaze. “If you burned Margaret’s letters.”

Noah stared at her in silence, too stunned to respond. He had not been expecting that at all. To be honest, he’d hardly thought of Margaret in weeks. Only a time or two since Hannah had mentioned her when they sat together at the bluffs. Why was she bringing this up now? “May I ask why?”

She shifted her in seat. “Because I do not think it is healthy to read her words of adoration after the way she treated you. It’s as if there are two versions of her in your mind. One which you hold onto in your heart, and another that you cannot come to grips with because it does not match what you knew of her. This is what happens when people smile to your face. She deceived you, Noah. Giving you a wink and a charming grin when within her heart was stone. And yet I—” She stopped and cleared her throat. “After what you made me do on the bluffs, I feel it is only fair that we do something similar for you.”

He leaned back in his chair, mulling over Hannah’s words as he propped his foot over his knee. “And you think burning the letters would be beneficial to me. To be rid of the old Margaret that you think I’m holding on to?”

“Yes. Because I am your friend and want what is best for you.”

Noah let out a long sigh, pretending to be put out. “There is only one problem with that.”

Her eyes grew guarded. “What?”

“I’ve already burned them.”