Chapter

Chapter

Georgiana’s hand trembled against the doorframe as Noah’s question echoed in the hush of the corridor. She opened her mouth to speak, but Noah spoke first, his voice cracking with passion.

“There is nothing abominable in loving Hope!” he yelled, the single word “Hope” clipped and reverent. “You speak of propriety and contract, but what of the heart? You think you can dictate who I care for? Well, I care for her—with everything I have. And I won’t stand by while anyone else lays a hand on her.”

He stepped forward, eyes blazing. “I love her, Mother. I love my stepsister! And I don’t want to see anyone else near her—no suitor, no bodyguard, no meddling aunt or cousin. If she’s to be happy, it will be with me.”

The words seemed to shake Georgiana from her shock. She pressed a palm to her chest, struggling for breath, her gaze flicking between his stricken face and the portrait-lined wall. Before she could answer, the heavy footsteps of someone approaching on the tiled floor sounded behind her.

Julian paused at the head of the stairs, his tall frame outlined by the dim lantern light. He frowned as he took in the tableau: his son, flushed and furious; his wife, pale and quivering; the door hanging open between them.

“Noah—” Julian began, his voice a low growl of dismay.

Noah’s chest heaved. He shut his mouth abruptly and drew in a shuddering breath, arms dropping to his sides. Julian’s arrival seemed to siphon away some of his audacity, and he turned his head, exhaling as though he had been holding his breath for an eternity.

Julian descended a single step, then halted, hand hovering above the railing. His dark eyes, usually so measured, widened in astonishment. “What are you saying?” he demanded, tone edged with something between incredulity and anger. “Do you even realize the rubbish you’re spilling from your mouth?”

Noah’s shoulders sagged; his defiance flickered, replaced by a dawning uncertainty. Georgiana—for all her own conflict—stepped forward now, placing herself between father and son.

“Julian,” she said softly, but her fingers curled into fists at her sides. “He’s upset.”

Julian’s gaze flicked to Georgiana, then back to Noah. “Upset?” he repeated, voice taut. “About loving your stepsister? You know the stakes—our family reputation, the scandal it would bring.” He shook his head in disbelief. “He speaks of scandal as though it were a trinket, easily cast aside.”

Noah straightened, a flicker of steel returning to his posture. “If scandal’s a trinket,” he said quietly, “then let it lie wherever it may. I will not apologize for what I feel.”

Georgiana inhaled sharply. “Noah—”

Julian cut her off. “Enough!” He straightened, raising a hand. “This conversation ends now. Both of you.” He turned to Noah. “You will apologize to your mother, and you will retract these… these absurd claims.”

Noah’s jaw clenched. For a moment, he looked ready to argue further, but Julian’s authority—the same that had seen his commands obeyed in business and politics—filled the corridor with a heavy silence.

Finally, Noah bowed his head. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, though his eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I… didn’t mean to disgrace you.”

Noah’s shoulders trembled as his apology died on his lips. He lifted his head, eyes blazing with stubborn truth. “I didn’t mean to disgrace you, Father,” he said, voice soft but unbreakable. “But the truth is—I am in love with Hope. Nothing either of you says or does can change that.”

Julian’s eyes darkened, and for a heartbeat he simply stared. Then, with a sudden, sharp movement, he swept an open palm against Noah’s cheek. The crack echoed in the corridor. Noah’s head snapped to the side, and a flush rose on his skin—part shock, part indignation.

Julian stood panting, chest heaving, as though the slap had been a release valve for all his fury. His lips parted, words choking somewhere in his throat. At last he managed to hiss, “You insolent boy—how dare you betray your family so?”

Noah pressed a hand to his stinging cheek but held Julian’s gaze. “I betray no one,” he said quietly. “I only speak my heart.”

Georgiana stepped between them, her voice trembling. “Julian, please.” She placed a gentle hand on her husband’s arm. “Remember—your health isn’t what it once was. You mustn’t put such strain on yourself… or on him.”

Julian’s breath hitched at the reminder. He blinked, the rigid mask of anger softening for an instant. He drew in a ragged breath, running a hand through his hair. “Forgive me,” he said, voice low and ragged.

Noah’s gaze fell to the floor, relief and guilt mingling in his eyes. “I forgive you, Father.”

Georgiana’s shoulders sagged as she reached out to cradle Noah’s cheek, her fingers brushing gently over the still-warm mark. “We will find a way through this,” she whispered to them both.

Julian closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall. “We will,” he agreed, though his voice was uncertain. “But not tonight.”

Noah’s jaw remained clenched as he pulled away from Georgiana’s gentle touch. Without another word, he spun on his heel and strode from the room, each footfall echoing off the marble. His breathing was ragged; his hands were curled into tight fists at his sides.

Georgiana opened her mouth to call after him, but Julian laid a calming hand on her arm. “Let him go,” he murmured. “Give him space to think.”

She nodded, tears shining in her eyes, but neither moved to follow. The corridor fell silent once more, the only sound the soft sigh of candle flames in their sconces.

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Noah’s steps carried him swiftly down the hall, past the portraits of stern ancestors and the heavy oak doors of guest chambers. His mind roiled with anger and shame—anger at his father’s betrayal of his feelings, shame at the red glow across his cheek. He barely saw the floor before him, so focused was he on his own tumult.

He turned a corner and—before he could react—crashed into someone standing in the shadows. Arms flared, he reached out, bracing himself against the impact.