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Instead, Beckett shrugged and said, “You’re a man of high spirits. You feel things deeply, and you aren’t afraid to act on those feelings.”
Noah jerked his gaze up to meet Beckett’s mild expression with a confused look. “You don’t think I’m defective or horrible?”
Beckett laughed. “Why would I think that?”
Noah stared at him for a moment before answering, “Because I made a fool of myself last night and then dragged you up and down Bleeker Street, like I was some sort of rabid puppy you needed to chase to keep the good people of New York safe?”
Beckett chuckled a bit more and shook his head. “You’d had a romantic disappointment. The effects were understandable. I don’t know how these things are supposed to be handled, but I thought it was only fair to let you vent your frustrations a little. Today will be a better day.”
Noah blinked up at his friend, then let out a long breath. It felt like he’d been holding that breath for a long time. Letting it go as he gazed up at the mystery that was Beckett Smith made him feel like he was sinking into the man’s mattress, sinking into his embrace.
He’d never met anyone like Beckett before. The man had a bottomless well of patience. He was so kind, so affable. Nothing seemed to ruffle his feathers, not even the mania of a madman.
Noah sank farther, his body heating slowly as he remained fixated on Beckett’s smile. His heart still beat fast and hard, but with a different feeling. His mind was beginning to feel soothed, even as his body seemed to wake up with scintillating energy. He felt safe in Beckett’s embrace, as though everything might actually end well after all. It was a new and glorious feeling.
Beckett must have been feeling something as well. He gazed down at Noah with a soft, almost dreamy smile. The man’s dark eyes glittered with thought, but Noah couldn’t decipher what any of those thoughts were. Beckett’s hand remained on his chest, rubbing slow circles that, miraculously made Noah feel better.
The moment was peaceful, intimate. But it made Noah feel like he needed something. It made him feel like he was standing on the outside of a shop window, gazing in at the display he could not reach and longing to have the treasures he could see right in front of him.
If he had only met Beckett before meeting Marcus. If only he hadn’t already definitively given his heart away.
Beckett drew in a sudden breath and stiffened. His dreamy expression fell away, replaced for the barest of moments by a look of alarm, before a bland smile took its place. He pushed away, turning so that he could slide his legs over the edge of the bed and sit.
“It’s past ten o’clock,” he said, standing. Only then did Noah realize Beckett had slept in his shirt and drawers. He kept his body pointed away from Noah as he walked to the door, which Noah could only take to mean Beckett’s body had had a reaction to his. “Father and Aurora are coming for lunch so that Aurora can tell us all about Mrs. Livingston’s ball.”
“I cannot wait to hear about that,” Noah said, pretending that nothing at all were out of the ordinary and that his mind, heart, and body were not thrashing wildly about for some explanation of all the things he’d just thought and felt. “I am certain Aurora conquered all of New York society with her wit and charm.”
Beckett laughed as he opened the door, not quite looking back at him. “I’m certain she has.”
Beckett disappeared into the hall, and moments later, Noah heard the door to the washroom snap shut. When he did, he flopped to his back, spreading himself wide in Beckett’s bed, but squeezing his eyes shut, as though the exchange had been awful.
In fact, he hadn’t felt so good in ages. He somehow knew that Beckett wouldn’t hold a single thing that had happened the night before against him, even though he should. His friend should be raging against him and scolding him for being such a fool. He should take back all of the nice things he’d bought for him and throw him out.
With a renewed burst of energy, Noah sat up and threw off the bedcovers. He bounded out of bed, started across the room, then decided he’d better make the bed and tidy up a bit before retreating to his own room. He set to work on the task with single-minded focus, smoothing the sheets and tucking the corners of the blankets in. He needed to earn Beckett’s favor, to prove to his dear friend that he was worthy of all the grace that was being granted to him.
After he made the bed, he swept around the room, stacking books, rearranging the decorations on the mantel over the fireplace, then shifting the rug so that it rested exactly in the center of the room. Beckett hadn’t finished with his morning ablutions yet, so Noah returned to his own room, threw off the borrowed nightshirt—he didn’t know where it had come from, since he’d been sleeping in the nude since arriving at Beckett’s house—then gathered his things for his turn in the washroom.
As soon as he heard Beckett return to his own room, he raced to the washroom to clean himself up, shave, and dress as swiftly as possible. He was done with his morning preparations and headed downstairs before Beckett emerged from his room.
“Good morning, Gardener,” Noah greeted Beckett’s butler as he burst into the parlor.
“Good morning, Mr. Cheevers,” Gardener returned the greeting with a slight hint of wariness.
“Beckett tells me that his father and Miss Smith are coming for lunch,” Noah said, heading straight to the parlor’s long sofa and setting to work plumping the pillows.
“Yes, sir, they are,” Gardener said. Noah could already feel the man’s eyes on his back as he worked.
“We must make certain the house is perfect for them when they arrive,” Noah went on. “Everything must be neat and tidy and in its place.”
“Yes, sir,” Gardener said with an even greater amount of hesitation. “Miss Taylor cleaned the parlor thoroughly just yesterday, sir,” he added, referring to Beckett’s maid and cook.
“We must do more,” Noah said, ignoring the man’s implication that his actions weren’t necessary. “Mr. Smith and Miss Smith must be made to feel as though they are the most valued people in all of New York, because they are.”
Noah continued around the room, plumping the cushions on the chairs by the fire, then arranging the figurines and the clock above the mantel into precise order.
“Very good, sir,” he distantly heard Gardener say after a long pause.
Noah continued around the room, picking up speed and focus as he went. Everything needed to be perfect for Beckett’s family. Everything in Beckett’s world should be perfect, since he himself was perfect. The least Noah could do was to put everything in the parlor in order, from the fire irons to the curtains. He wouldn’t stop until he got it right.
