The Banker’s Daughter (The Kingsleys #5)

Chapter 1

London

“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, steady and 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.”

The gentleman’s brows rose at that. “Truly?”

Nora wrinkled her nose. “No. He is imposing and demanding. But he adores his daughter, and she happens to adore a certain Mr. Lyndon.”

Halting in place, he slipped a hand into his coat pocket whilst glancing this way and that, though no one was nearby.

“I know I ought to wait, but I cannot,” he whispered as he withdrew a small leather case, worn smooth at the edges, its modest appearance doing little to disguise the care with which it had been chosen.

It rested in his palm for the briefest moment before he opened it, revealing the gleaming ring nestled within.

A large sapphire sat at its heart, rich as twilight, its color shifting like cold fire as it turned, and around it sat a halo of diamonds, each one catching the light in its own sharp glint, making the whole piece shimmer uncontrollably.

Nora had always thought silver a better setting for such a deep blue, but the gold was eye-catching.

It was not merely an ornament. It was his declaration made manifest. And the world narrowed once more, though in a quieter fashion than before, as her attention fixed wholly upon that small, shining promise.

Nora’s hand hovered between them as Mr. Lyndon slid her glove off with a care that sent a faint tremor through her. Cool air brushed her bare skin for only a moment before it was replaced by the steady warmth of his fingers as he settled the ring into place.

And for a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

But then a slow, almost hesitant smile spread across his face, bright and unguarded in a way she had never seen before. Lifting her hand, Mr. Lyndon pressed his lips to that knuckle, the warmth of his touch sending a fresh thrill through her.

“It suits you,” he murmured.

Nora’s gaze fixed upon the ring, but as her hand shifted, the logistics of the ornament made her hesitate: her glove was too snug to fit over it, and this moment would not remain private for long if she waltzed about with it on her finger.

“I shall keep it hidden,” she said, her voice low as she tucked it back into its case and then her reticule. Nora’s eyes lifted to meet his once more, bright with a promise of their own. “For now.”

“And not for long. I have an appointment to speak with your father tomorrow.”

A faint chill slipped through her, quick and unwelcome, tightening something low in her chest before she could name it, and Nora’s grip tightened against her reticule; for the briefest instant, the ground beneath her felt less certain.

But the feel of the ring box steadied her, and Nora drew herself up, her chin lifting as she set that past firmly behind her.

Mr. Lyndon wasn’t him. This was different. He was different. Her gaze returned to her dear Mr. Lyndon, and the last trace of hesitation gave way beneath the quiet strength of what she knew to be true.

“When will you come? I do not wish to miss—” But the words faltered as recollection pressed in, and Nora’s shoulders drooped. “Mama has a string of visits tomorrow, and I fear I shall be dragged from one drawing room to another until the afternoon is quite spent.”

Nora’s grip tightened once more against the small shape hidden within her reticule. “Perhaps I might contrive to return early, or plead a headache—”

“There is no need,” said Mr. Lyndon, his tone easy, as though the matter were already settled. “I shall call upon your father tomorrow and wait for you until you return.”

The tension eased from her at once, her expression brightening with a relief she made no effort to conceal. “You will?”

“I carried that ring for less than a day before rushing over to give it to you. Do you believe I can wait another to place it on your finger forevermore?” he asked with a wry smile.

A soft sound escaped her, something between a laugh and a breath, and Nora caught at his sleeve and tugged him off the path, drawing him behind the shelter of another broad-trunked oak, its low branches casting a dappled shade that concealed them from casual notice.

There, with the world once more held at a careful distance, she wrapped her arms around him.

“You shall not have to wait long, and I shall carry it with me until then,” Nora murmured, her voice low and bright with feeling as her hand rose to his lapel. “I love you, my dearest Mr. Lyndon.”

His answering smile deepened, his hand finding her cheek once more with a familiarity that still sent a quick thrill through her. “And I you, my beloved Miss Eden.”

The space between them closed once more, and Nora met him halfway as his lips found hers.

Though light and quick, the kiss brightened with the same breathless eagerness.

Another followed, just as swift, as though neither could bear to limit themselves to one as they lingered in that stolen pocket of shade, the world beyond held at bay for a moment longer.