Chapter 1
London
Summer 1878
“My heart belongs to you, Miss Eden.”
Those words did not flutter or fade. They lingered in the air, wrapping around one like fog. No ornament could improve them. No flourish could strengthen their meaning. It was a heart laid bare without disguise. A truth offered without defense.
And Nora Eden couldn’t think what to say in response. Mr. Lyndon loved her? Of course, she had hoped his feelings ran as deeply as hers, but until the words were spoken, what could a heart do but hope?
“Foolish though it may be, my feelings are too great to be contained, and I cannot remain silent a moment longer,” said Mr. Lyndon, his bright eyes shining with all the feeling that burned through him. “Please say you will marry me.”
Nora knew she was gaping, yet she could not force her features to do anything else. Not when Mr. Lyndon was speaking such lovely words, his hands encircling hers and his eyes pleading as though nothing else in the world mattered but her response.
Joy rose too swiftly to be contained, rushing through her and filling every quiet place like the booming swell of an orchestra, the instruments and choir blending until the notes were a physical thing felt in the bones of its listeners; this was the very essence of Beethoven’s famous Ode.
Tears blurred her vision. She couldn’t help it. Decorum was impossible during such a weighty moment. A tremor passed through her, slight but insistent, and each heartbeat struck sharp and bright, sending those dizzying feelings pulsing outward until even the tips of her fingers and toes hummed.
“Miss Eden?” prompted Mr. Lyndon, his expression straining as the silence lingered, and Nora tried to draw breath enough to answer him, but it caught somewhere between her throat and her lips, held fast by the sheer weight of his confession.
A tear slipped free as she jerked her head up and down, giving him the only answer she could.
“You will?” he prodded, a thread of urgency in his tone as though afraid to believe it was true, and Nora’s head bobbed even more furiously as she tried to convey the words that wouldn’t come.
Those hands, which until now had only held hers whenever gentlemanly decorum dictated, drew her closer than any waltz or polka, and Nora’s breath stuttered as Mr. Lyndon enveloped her. One instant she stood there, overwhelmed and wordless, and the next she was swept into his embrace.
When his lips met hers, it was no gentle hesitation but a breathless collision of all that had just been spoken, and Nora’s joy surged brighter and louder. Her hands clutched at him without thought, as though the sheer force of this joy might carry her away, and the world narrowed to this single, fleeting moment that moved too quickly even as she struggled to hold fast to it.
This was the man she loved, and Nora felt his feelings echoed in every touch and look. And for all that she was quite done with tears, she couldn’t help the ones that pulled free of her control, for there was nothing else to do when her heart was so full: there was no space left for her emotions to go.
“I love you,” she finally whispered.
For all that Nora felt she’d been quite clear on her feelings, the gentleman’s brows rose at that, his eyes gleaming as though still unable to fully believe the truth standing before him.
“I do,” she added, sealing that promise with another kiss. “And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Light shone from Mr. Lyndon’s smile as his hand cupped her cheek, his thumb sending shivers along her skin. “You do?”
But words escaped her once more, and Nora simply nodded at that ludicrous question. How could she not love such a good and kind man? Her reasons were too numerous and too grand to share, but thankfully, she had a lifetime to make him understand.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, Nora leaned close—
A sound came sharp and sudden, close enough to shatter the fragile world they had built around them. A voice. Laughter. The unmistakable tread of footsteps along the path beyond their shelter.
Nora startled, her arms tightening reflexively before she drew back, her gaze darting past him as though she might see through the tree trunk that concealed them. The heat in her cheeks only deepened as awareness rushed in all at once: this was no private parlor or hidden nook. The only thing standing between them and public view was a bit of greenery.
Mr. Lyndon’s expression shifted, though the light did not leave his gaze. If anything, it sharpened, a quick understanding passing between them as he glanced toward the sound and then back to her. His hand slipped from her cheek to her arm, steadyand guiding, and with a quiet urgency, he drew her from their hiding place.
The park opened before them, dappled with the shifting light of late afternoon, the gravel path pale beneath the arching branches. Their tree stood just behind, its trunk broad enough to have shielded them for those few stolen moments, its leaves stirring softly overhead as though nothing at all had happened beneath them. And though the world had righted itself once more, something of that moment lingered between them, bright and impossible to ignore.
“I know I ought to have spoken to your father first,” said Mr. Lyndon, in a tone so conversational that even the most nosy of passersby would dismiss it as unimportant. “However, I wanted to make certain I knew your feelings before approaching him.”
Nora stifled a chuckle and glanced at her husband-to-be. “Admit it. You are terrified to speak with him and don’t wish to risk an audience with ‘the Lord of Lombard Street’ unless absolutely necessary.”
“Stuff and nonsense,” said Mr. Lyndon, lifting his chin with mock offense.
Holding fast to his arm, Nora leaned closer. “You needn’t be afraid. My father has done a good job at cultivating the air of a lion, but he is a kitten beneath.”
