Page 3 of A Beguiled Gentleman (The Bradley Brothers #1)

Chapter 3

To be a successful barrister, one needed to have tenacity in the courtroom. Unfortunately, that was not one of Noah’s greatest strengths.

Three months ago, he had a failed trial, and apparently word had spread. Now he was at a loss on how to repair his image in the courtroom. Other men had years of experience to recommend them. And while Noah had won cases as well, having the failed one so early on did not garner a glowing recommendation. If his reputation did not improve, his earnings would never increase, and he would never have a place of his own. He had hoped the solicitor he met with earlier today would have had a case for him. Instead, he had met with him for less than an hour and then taken his client’s case somewhere else.

Noah glanced around the small room, its papering wearing about the edges. He supposed the dower house could stand some minor updates after years of unuse, but Noah had insisted to Donald that he wanted to move in and any repairs could wait. He had just been so excited to move ahead and marry. And Donald, being the older, supportive brother that he was, had not made any qualms about Noah’s decision to forgo any repairs for the time being.

Noah stood, then walked to the far wall to stare at the small tear. Did it make him look destitute? Its worn state taunted him. You are just a poor younger son who cannot earn his own living, riding on the coattails of your family’s name .

And then a memory, one that carried the face of the woman he loved, entered his mind.

Perhaps. If a suitable gentleman were to offer.

Something inside him snapped.

Noah strode over to his desk, yanked the chair back, and dragged it across the room, where he proceeded to step on it and reach up toward the peeling wallpaper.

“You will not cost me any more clients, you worthless paper,” he seethed under his breath. His fingers were just able to grasp the edge of the tear—and then he pulled.

And he did not stop until the paper ripped from the wall halfway to the floor.

“You will not mock me or make me look a fool any longer!” He gave the paper one final tug, then threw it to the floor and stomped on it once with his boot. “You stupid, idiotic, preposterous paper!”

Footsteps sounded in the hall, but Noah just loomed over the crumpled mess, staring at it as if his eyes could burn it from existence.

“Sir?”

Noah’s gaze snapped to the door, finding his man of all trades, Egerton, staring in at him.

“Egerton.” Noah rubbed his neck, his gaze flicking to the incriminating floral paper. He swallowed, finding his voice. “Can I help you?”

The older man gave him a slow perusal. “I came to ask you the same.”

Noah felt a burning at the back of his eyes. He was losing his mind. What man attacked wallpaper? “No, I am fine, Egerton. Thank you.”

He one small step into his study. A very brave thing indeed considering Noah’s loose grasp on sanity at the moment. “Are you sure? Shall I call for someone to—” Egerton paused, looking to the wall that was now a complete and utter disaster.

Noah pressed a hand to his brow. “Not at the moment, please. Thank you.”

He heard more than saw Egerton leave the room, unable to bear looking at the man another moment. What had Noah been thinking? What sane man ripped papering from the wall?

A man whose life was falling apart. That’s who.

How did Noah think a young lady as lovely and intelligent as Margaret could want to live in this mess of a house? He had planned to take his earnings and find a place of his own as soon as he could, only staying at the dower house until he was truly established. But clearly, that was not suitable for a true lady.

Noah sat in the chair beside the disastrous wall, leaning his head back until it rested against the solidness as he pressed his eyes shut. He was supposed to meet with another solicitor in only two hours, but what was he to do now that his study was even further in disrepair than it had been for the last? Perhaps it was time he swallowed his pride and asked for a favor.

“Egerton,” Noah yelled, still wallowing against the chair.

“Yes?”

Noah jumped, eyes flying open. “Goodness, how did you come so quickly?”

“I figured you would need me.”

“And so you waited outside my door?”

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.”

Donald returned his attention to his search, picking up a leather-bound ledger. “Nonsense. I can use another room for an hour or so.” He swiveled back, a small smile on his lips. “Are you meeting with a solicitor? Any potential, you think?”

Noah was nervous to speak of business with Donald. As the eldest son, and because of Donald’s nature, he excelled in such matters.

“I have hopes, yes. It would be a smaller case, but if I can prove myself in court, I imagine better opportunities will present themselves.”

Donald leaned against the desk, crossing his arms over the ledger held to his chest. “I have every faith that you will make an excellent barrister, Noah. Don’t let a minor setback get you down.”

Noah straightened his shoulders under his brother’s bolstering confidence in him. But was he being genuine? Or was he only trying to lift Noah’s spirits after Noah had come to him in a puddle after Margaret’s rejection? Noah’s shoulders sagged as he loosed a sigh, unable to appear false in front of his brother. “But what need have I of a career now? Margaret will be gone in a week and I shall be a hermit.”

“A hermit?” Donald said with a booming laugh. “Noah, you are only twenty-two. Much younger than my thirty-three. Am I a hermit?”

“No.” Noah ran a hand along his neck. “The difference,” he said, trying to undo his blunder, “is that you choose to be single. The very essence of a confirmed bachelor. But if you offered for a young lady’s hand, she would never refuse you.”

Donald’s grin widened. “Nonsense. Who said my affections were never rebuffed?”

“Well, I assumed as much as you have never told us otherwise.”

“I say again. You are very young, Noah. I know Miss Lewiston wounded your heart and perhaps even bruised your pride, but you will find someone else. You only need time to heal.”

“And to get work,” Noah said, throwing his head back. He lifted it when he heard Donald push away from the desk.

“Is there anything I can do to help? Perhaps if I came in during the meeting and discussed—”

“No.” Noah shook his head. “I cannot have my older brother coming in and saving the day. I need to do this myself. I need to, Donald. I cannot explain why, I just—”

Donald held up a hand, walking over to him. “No need to explain. I understand. But if you ever find you do wish for my assistance, I am only a short walk away.”

Noah nodded, swallowing as he pinched his eyes shut. “Thank you.”

“Good luck.” Donald nudged him under the chin with a light fist, then strode toward the door, giving Noah one last encouraging smile before disappearing down the hall.

Now it was time for Noah to get down to business. Assuming the next man would recommend his expertise, that is.