At twilight, the group gathered around the pianoforte to be entertained by various ladies who played well. Emmeline had a talent for the instrument, skillfully altering the notes with her nimble fingers.

It was one of the talents society preferred young ladies to possess. However, most of the young ladies, in Noah’s opinion, did not like the instrument nor played well enough. Emmeline’s notes were clear, pleasing to the ears, and he could see many approve of her skill.

Miss Benwick was gifted with a beautiful voice and sang The Turban’d Turk. Noah, however, was fascinated by Emmeline’s regal form as she beautifully played the pianoforte. Noah had caught an inkling of the attraction between them when he spotted Ann’s and George’s interactions at the last few balls. Now, seeing how the young lady shivered when her eyes met Leverton’s smoldering eyes during the last verse, Noah was sure.

A fitting match, Noah thought smugly.

When the call for another round of singers came, Noah volunteered and took Ian to sing along with him. The look of concentration on Emmeline’s face was enrapturing to him, to the point that he didn’t want to leave when the song ended until his friend gave him a pointed look and excused them both, taking him to the card room for port and Whist.

“Noah, I believe you have developed an affliction,” Ian teased, once inside the room.

Henry, who was passing by, smirked. “I told you, did I not?”

“You behave like untried lads,” Noah grumbled as he took his drink.

“She is lovely,” remarked Ian. “If you had not chosen her, I would have pursued her for her music alone.”

“Well, you cannot now,” Noah told him.

Ian chuckled. “If you do not wed her…” he stopped in mid-sentence at Noah’s scathing glare.

“You need to relax, Noah!” Henry remarked to the tense Duke.

The gentlemen began playing a game of Whist while drinking and conversing with each other. Many ladies, including Emmeline, were discussed that evening. Noah discovered how many bachelors were willing to court her, displeased at the fact that he had to take matters slowly if he wanted to succeed in marrying her.

His mother had become a complication. The Duchess did not approve of Noah’s interest in Emmeline. Earlier that evening, she had gently endeavored to explain the repercussions to him if he did try to court her, his grandmother the Dowager Duchess as the main one. He had, of course, as gently reminded her that he was not a little lad and he was capable of selecting a wife himself.

Noah realized that Duke Leverton’s eyes narrowed every time Miss Benwick was mentioned, as well. She was considered a raving beauty, and an accomplished lady. The loud remarks made at her unattached status, as the gentlemen drank more than they ought to, irked Noah.

“So, Duke of Newberry,” a voice slurred loudly as the speaker was soused in his liquor. “Do you have any claim over Lady Emmeline, or may I claim her?”

The fine hold Noah had on his temper snapped and the Duke bolted from his place, grabbed the drunken man, and planted his fist in his face.

Emmeline had just started playing a new tune when a loud commotion came from the card room, accompanied by enraged shouts, the shattering of glass, and the snapping of wood.

A particular shout had Emmeline darting up from her seat and rushing towards the card room with her heart pounding, but she was stopped by two men who immediately blocked the door. She wasn’t the only one, but she pushed to the front, only to be denied entrance.

“Don’t, Lady Emmeline,” one gentleman said kindly but resolutely. “This is not for you to see.”

What is happening? she wondered.

Tipping up on her toes, Emmeline could see two men–Lord Bexley and another were holding Noah back. The Duke’s face was livid, dark red with rage, his hair standing on end. Noah’s head briefly twisted towards her and the look of rage shifted to one that made her breath catch.

“What on this good earth has happened?” the Duchess of Newberry demanded from beside her. Emmeline, however, had an inkling. From the fierceness on Noah’s face, she knew the squabble had to be about her.

In the short time, she had been in the Duke’s presence, she knew Noah was not one to jump into violence quickly; something had pushed him there.

“Nothing, Your Grace,” a man said, as he came from the room and blocked the view inside. “It is only a…misunderstanding.”

“One that evoked fisticuffs?” the Duchess demanded, “or even pistols?”

“Just a misunderstanding, Madam,” the man replied calmly. “Please resume the evening, we will have it sorted out quickly.”

Over the man’s shoulder, Emmeline saw Noah shrug off Lord Bexley’s hand from his shoulder and shoot a deadly look to a man with light blond hair, who was nursing a bloody lip and a bruised jaw.

As there was nothing she could do, Emmeline turned away, feeling another set of eyes on her–the Duchess. Resuming her seat at the pianoforte, she thought about what she should play next.

The dark murmurs around the room about the men’s disgraceful display didn’t make any mark on Emmeline’s mood. She wasn’t prone to presume, but there was no doubt in her mind–she believed she knew what had happened–that Noah had defended her. In what way she wasn’t sure, but she knew the quarrel had been over her.

Her fingers traced over the keys, and after flitting over them pensively, the strains of Beethoven’s Sonata No. 14 started to permeate the room. The soft, lovely, and haunting sounds drew the attention of the gentlemen and ladies surrounding her, but Emmeline was lost in her mind.

The song, dedicated to the composer’s lost love, was an audible projection of Emmeline’s emotion towards Noah, but only the most astute picked up on it. A part of her noted that she was being scrutinized, but she still played with a soft smile on her face.

Beethoven’s sonata was a complicated piece, but Emmeline had practiced it for years, hoping that someday the right man would give her leeway to play it for him. The lovely sonata drew to a close and, with the last trembling note hanging in the air, Emmeline smiled, excused herself, and went to the nearest powder room.

Her reflection was one she was unfamiliar with–her face was flushed and her eyes bright. Braced on the vanity, she wasn’t surprised when the door opened and Ann stepped in.

“Are you all right, Em?” her stalwart friend asked, with her eyebrows in a tight line.

“I am,” Emmeline sighed, “I just…came to a conclusion Ann, and it is scaring me to death.”

“About the His Grace, I suppose,” Ann mirrored her expression. “I know, and anyone who knows the language of music knows. But Em…are you sure about this? Loving him will estrange you from your family. George will never forgive you for this.”

“How can I change what my heart feels, Ann?” Emmeline mourned, “My head knows it’s wrong, but my heart feels it is right. Maybe this is God’s way of saying it’s time this feud ended.”

The distraught lady felt her best friend envelop her in her arms. “I’m sorry Em, I do not know how this can be, but…if it’s truly God’s plan, it will come about. Take heart, my dear.”

After hugging her friend, Emmeline asked, “Walk with me, please. I need some fresh air.”

“Gladly,” Ann replied with a smile.

The two briefly went back to the music room and told Lady Alford where they were going. Even though it was late, since Emmeline was with her friend, the matron gave her consent.

The gardens of Bexley Manor were magnificent. Emmeline was not sure what kind of science or magical arts the Countess used to have splendid white roses all year round, but the garden was flush with them. The moon was high enough for its silver rays to transform the garden into an ethereal fantasy.

Lightly brushing her fingertips on the silky petals as they walked, Emmeline tried to conjure some way to be with Noah, but by the end of the walk couldn’t fathom any way to do so.

Oh, how I wished I was born of another family, Emmeline despaired.

It was Ann who first heard the crunch of boots coming towards them, and it was she who touched Emmeline’s arm. “Em, your prince in white armor is coming towards us.”

Emmeline’s head snapped up, and she spotted Noah coming towards them, his cravat gone and his white shirt loose at the collar. His dark hair seemed to merge with the night around him as his purposeful strides took him to them.

“Miss Benwick,” Noah greeted, “May I usurp your walk and your companion for a moment?”

Ann’s eyes darted between the two, clearly in apprehension but she nodded, “That lovely fountain not far off needs an examination, I believe.”

With a smile, Ann left the two and Emmeline felt her throat go dry at the loaded look Noah was leveling at her. She was still when his hand rose, cupped her cheek, and he threaded his fingers through her hair. Not a word was uttered before he lightly touched his lips to hers.

The kiss was soft, but Emmeline felt it was stronger and more ferocious than a tempest. A soft warmth was kindled in her chest, then moved throughout her body.

Noah’s lips were just the bare side of chapped, but they were firm. He made no motion to deepen the kiss but rested his lips for a moment before he pulled back. Emmeline pressed her head into his chest.

A whisper of a wish–that was more emotion than thought–flitted through Emmeline’s mind and before she could mentally phrase it, Noah fulfilled it. As his arms circled her and cocooned her in his hold, Emmeline prayed that time would stop, and she would be suspended in eternity with his arms around her.

“What happened inside the card room?” Emmeline whispered softly.

“A matter of honor, my dear.” Noah replied, “One which the gentleman in me would rather you not know of.”

“I know it was about me,” Emmeline replied, “But it doesn’t matter why…Noah, are we doomed not to be?”

“I cannot say,” Noah admitted, his words fluttering her hair, “It does seem that the cards are stacked against us.”

Pulling away from his hold, Emmeline added to his statement, “And even if you are adamant in courting me, my brother will refuse you. Even my Aunt cannot persuade him otherwise, and I believe he despises you too much to even speak man to man–just because of a foolish misunderstanding and a misplaced grudge.”

“I suppose we can elope,” Noah said dryly. “My duchy is already under scrutiny with the St. Maur debacle, and my reputation is already in the dirt. If they think I am a scoundrel, whisking you away will not harm it… but it will harm yours. No matter how I feel about you, I cannot mar your standing in good company.”

“And you are comfortable being labeled a rake?” Emmeline asked incredulously, “When you are the farthest thing from one?”

“My history, Cherie,” Noah replied, “might paint a scarlet picture.” A callused hand nudged her head up, and Noah’s gray eyes had a mischievous light, “I pray thee now tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?”

Emmeline couldn’t help but laugh and replied in the lines of the same play, “For them all together–which maintained so politic a state of evil that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me?”

“All of you.” Noah replied, “From the moment you failed to catch the firefly and your eyes flashed with so much indignation. You proved yourself a faithful sparring partner in words and spirit.”

“I...” Emmeline faltered, as she shot a look over to Ann, “I must go, my chaperone will get worried, and I hate to put her in anxiety.”

Noah frowned but his expression mellowed, and he kissed her lightly on her forehead, “I understand.”

“Ann,” Emmeline called over to her friend while not moving her eyes from Noah, “We must go.”

Ann ambled over and after looking between the two, grasped Emmeline’s hand with a sigh, “Good night, Your Grace.”

Without another word, Ann tugged a wordless Emmeline back down the path to the manor. Its warm interior banished the chill from the night air, and though toasty, Emmeline’s insides felt colder than ice. Noah had just admitted he loved her without even saying the words and when the time had come for her to do the same, the sentiment had stuck in her chest.

“Go to your room, Emmeline,” Ann said quietly while brushing a hand over her friend’s pale forehead, “I will make the excuses to Lady Alford. You need to rest before you fall ill.”

Nodding silently, Emmeline hugged Ann and took the stairs up to the guest rooms while Ann went back to the parlor. Neither of the two ladies had seen the Duchess of Newberry follow them to the garden, witnessing the whole exchange with her son.

The Duchess of Newberry knew that her son, Noah, had a deep fascination for Lady Emmeline Grant. She had known it from the day he had come back home from his holiday with his uncle in Leverton. Over the years, when the two had met in London, the Duchess suspected that Noah timed his visits in concordance with Lady Emmeline’s.

Noah had been born with a wild streak in him, one that had matured into rebellion in his youthful years. Now, though tempered, the Duchess knew that Noah was once again tempting fate with this Grant.

Entering the foyer, the Duchess looked up the staircase and shook her head. This connection the two had must be stopped, or no one would come out happy.

An idea had spawned from the moment she had seen how Noah had rushed to Lady Emmeline’s ‘rescue’ in the picnic lunch. It had grown quietly in the back of her mind until it was now fully formed. It only needed to be placed in action.