Page 8 of A Beguiled Gentleman (The Bradley Brothers #1)

Chapter 8

Noah stared at the new paper covering the walls of his study. Donald had been bequeathed the duty of overseeing upkeep on the dower house. As heir, their father felt it gave him the opportunity to run estate matters as practice. At least now Noah could confidently invite people back into this room without embarrassment. And Donald was polite enough to not ask too many questions about how the incident regarding the ruined paper occurred.

Even if the paper had still been hanging pathetically from the wall, however, it would not have dampened Noah’s spirits—for today, he had won his case in court.

He stretched back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head as he stuck his legs out in front of him. Goodness, he needed this. To feel success and pride in something that was his own. To venture outside the walls of his family’s influence and make something of himself—it was liberating.

Suddenly, the walls were too much, and Noah needed fresh air and freedom to complete this feeling. He did not have a meeting again in the foreseeable future, and a ride on his horse seemed just the thing.

Noah walked across the grounds between the dower and the main house, covering the span in record time. He felt so lighthearted he could run. But the air was warm enough that he did not wish to work up a sweat, nor did he think Egerton would appreciate him dirtying his coat.

Noah told the stable hand to let the staff of the main house know he had taken his steed out for a jaunt, and then he was on his way. He streaked across the lawn, listening to the pounding of his horse’s hooves on the solid earth and letting the wind whip around him. Once he had his fun, he steered his mount toward the road. Miss Gibbons had said she wanted to be kept apprised of his work affairs, and it would give him something to do with all of this euphoria coursing through his veins. Assuming she had been earnest in her request.

He slowed his horse once he met the road and made his way to Highgrove. Before making it to his destination, however, Noah saw two young ladies walking along the road—one of whom looked particularly familiar. Well, the hair anyway. It was quite hard to miss, even beneath her bonnet.

“Miss Gibbons,” Noah heralded as he neared.

Miss Gibbons stopped on the road, waiting for him to approach. “Good afternoon, Lord Noah.” She dipped into a curtsy. “What brings you out on this fine day?”

He pulled his horse to a halt and tipped his hat. “I have news that I thought you might be interested in.”

“Oh?” She squinted up at him, as the brim of her bonnet did not completely shield the sun from her eyes. “And what would that be?”

He wanted to see her face clearly when he told her, so he slipped from the saddle and held the reins in his hand. There . Now he could see her green-brown eyes and slight lift to her lip.

“I wanted to inform you that I won my case in court today.”

Her eyes lit up, and a smile stretched across her face. “That is splendid news. I am glad to hear it. I hope it is one of many in your career.”

“Thank you,” he said, dipping his head. “I hope so as well.”

Miss Gibbons looked about before turning back to him. “Won’t you join me on my walk? It is a beautiful day, and it should not be wasted. Unless you have somewhere else to be, of course.” Her face took on a worried look, as if she had done or said something wrong.

“My plan was to come and tell you my news, so a walk would be lovely. Thank you.”

Noah turned his horse around and Miss Gibbons’s maid walked just behind them.

“So,” Miss Gibbons began, “was there anything different about this case as opposed to the others? Did you feel more confident or spend extra time preparing before the trial?”

“I cannot say I did anything spectacular. I did attempt to appear more confident in myself. I smiled less and was more direct.”

Miss Gibbons nodded along with a straight face, as if approving of his tactics. “And, of course, you were able to use your education and knowledge of the law to make a case.”

“Of course. I did not go to school for four years only to twiddle my thumbs.”

“And how was school? Was it exciting?” She glanced over at him, her anticipation clear as her mouth lifted into a hopeful smile—like he held all the answers to dreams she was never able to have.

Noah reached over and patted his horse’s neck. “I was very blessed to be able to attend school, as I know many others do not get such an opportunity. But no. It was hardly what I would call exciting.” He looked over at her and her smile fell.

“What about it did you not enjoy?”

Noah shrugged. “I suppose I missed home.” He paused before continuing. “Does that make me sound like a pansy?”

Miss Gibbons’s mouth settled into a line, and her brow creased. “No. But I cannot admit to understanding what that would be like.”

“You would not miss home if you were away for long periods of time?”

Miss Gibbons’s gaze trailed across the horizon as her chin tilted up in thought. “I would love to have a home to miss. We move so frequently that I hardly grow attached to where we are. The only constant things in my life are my parents, and I must confess that I would be fine being away from them for a time. I would even say I long for it.”

“But you do not wish to marry,” Noah pointed out.

Miss Gibbons swiped a hair away from her face. “It is not the institution of marriage I am opposed to. If I were to find a man who put forth the effort to know me, to truly understand me and care for me as the person I am, I would not hesitate to marry him.” She sighed. “But as we have moved nearly every six months for the last three years, I hardly have had the chance to get to know any man beyond surface matters. And those I did get to know—let us just say things did not end well.”

“And then your parents uprooted you.”

She turned toward him. “Yes.” Her eyes quickly traced his face. “But enough of that. This is your day, and we ought to do something to celebrate your success.”

“Nonsense. We were talking about you.”

She waved him off. “No, I am being a spoilsport. I do not even know how we got on this matter.”

She had yet to really discuss with him the details of her parents’ constant uprooting of her life. Whenever the conversation strayed in that direction, she changed topics.

“That is the nature of a conversation isn’t it?” Noah asked. “It passes back and forth. Or it should, if done correctly. Besides, I enjoy talking with you.”

Her face jerked toward him. And then nothing in the world could have prepared him for her next question. “Do you enjoy sweets?” she asked suddenly.

He stared at her, his brow quirked, before he finally gave a shrug and laughed. “Don’t most people?”

Miss Gibbons’s lips formed a timid smile. “I would say most do, and if they deny it, I am convinced they are lying.”

Margaret had always said she did not enjoy sweets. She said they were not good for one’s figure. But Miss Gibbons had no such qualms, and her figure did not seem to suffer. In fact, perhaps it helped enhance it . . . his eyes traced down her form, but then he snatched his gaze up again before he was caught. How embarrassing and rude that would be.

“So, now that you know I enjoy sweets,” he said, distracting himself, “what do you plan to do with this information?”

They came to a bend in the road. “Hold it over you for my gain of course.”

A laugh burst out of him. “Excuse me?”

She shook her head, smiling. “Very well. Something else then. How about we head toward town and purchase some sweets in celebration of your success.”

“Well, normally I would turn down such an adventure, but I would hate to deprive you of a treat today.”

“Ha!” She spun her head toward him with a wide grin. “You only want to seem more disciplined than me. I am quite sure you will purchase more sweets than I will.”

“Is that a challenge, Miss Gibbons?”

She shrugged, looking ahead as they neared the edge of town. “It is only a hypothesis.”

A couple of carriages clipped along, and people meandered about, looking through shop windows. Their proximity to Brighton often brought a trickle of tourists, especially as they neared summer.

“Well,” he said, pulling her closer as they walked by a large group of people while he kept a tight grip on his horse’s reins. “I take your hypothesis and raise you one. I believe we shall both stuff our pockets with sweets and eat them on the walk back until our stomachs ache.”

Her grin widened. “I fear that will most likely be the case.”

“I plan to get lemon drops,” Noah said.

“They are one of my favorites.” She adjusted the rim of her bonnet to shield her eyes. “So, if you are supplying the citrus,” she said, tapping her chin, “I will get some bittersweet chocolate nonpareils. Those are my second favorite.”

“We shall definitely end this walk with a stomach ache,” Noah said with a decisive nod.

“But it shall be worth it.” Miss Gibbons gave him a cheeky grin.

“What if I wish to take some chocolate home with me? Perhaps we should each get both.”

“I hardly think that is necessary. We can share.”

“Now, Miss Gibbons,” he said as he spun about, walking backwards and switching the reins to his other hand as he watched her. “Where is that sense of adventure you mentioned earlier? If anything, we should be including a third option.”

“And what would you suggest?”

“Marzipan,” he added without missing a beat. They neared the sidewalk and Noah tied up his mount.

Miss Gibbons’s eyebrows drew together. “Are we perhaps introducing too many flavors? What if we stick to one category? Such as all citrus or all chocolate.”

“No. I believe we need a variety.”

“And I believe that my hypothesis will be the one to win out,” she said, glancing over her shoulder toward the bakery.

Just as Noah was finishing up his knot, a carriage and four rattled by, emitting a cloud of dust. He turned back toward Miss Gibbons, who was frantically looking through her reticule.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

She clamped a hand over her mouth as she shook her head. “Dust makes me sneeze.” Her words were muffled under her hand.

He smiled, about to laugh, when he realized she was quite serious. “And that is a problem?”

She pulled a kerchief from her reticule and held it to her nose. “It is when your sneezes are as intrusive as mine.”

“Then let us get you inside.” He took her arm, leading her to the bakery door. And just as he opened it—a welcoming aroma wafting toward them as the bell above the door rang out their arrival—Miss Gibbons let out the loudest sneeze he had ever heard.