New York City, New York

1867

Nora had been staring at the letter in her hand for at least five minutes. She couldn't bring herself to move. Was this what shock felt like? She was likely going to begin having heart palpitations at any moment.

Actually, it was possible she already was having them. Nora put a hand over her rapidly beating heart to test the theory.

"Uh, Elinor? Are you quite alright?"

Nora heard Oliver come into the room but didn't move from her position at her writing desk. Heavy footsteps moved closer to her. Oliver's face suddenly loomed in front of her.

"Elinor?" He waved a hand back and forth in front of her face.

She didn't move.

"Well," Oliver declared before straightening himself. "If you are not alright, I suppose I shall have to go fetch your mother."

"No!" Nora automatically exclaimed, and a smile broke free on Oliver's face.

"She lives!" he cried dramatically. Well, Nora supposed she was the one being dramatic, but nevertheless. Oliver was annoying.

Nora scowled. "Did my mother see you come in? She will undoubtedly yell at us again if she finds you here."

Oliver shook his head. "Your butler told me she's having a luncheon in the dining room with that old bat Mrs. Wright."

"Oh good," Nora replied, nodding. "That will take hours."

"Now, do tell. What had turned you into a statue?"

"Felix is in Boston." The words slipped through her lips in a barely-there whisper.

Oliver threw a hand over his mouth and wilted on her bed. "The fancy toff comes to America?"

Nora rolled her eyes, though she was internally delighted that Oliver had proven her point: he was infinitely more dramatic than she was. Although she knew he merely jested. "He came with his Uncle Leo, who apparently has business to take care of there," she explained.

"I thought his uncle was the prince consort? Husband to the queen and whatnot?" Oliver asked, his face scrunching up in confusion. "I can't imagine a prince being in any line of business."

Nora shook her head. "Different uncle. Uncle Leo is simply his father's best friend. They aren't blood-related, but Leo has been taking care of Felix since he was little." 

A dawning expression came over Oliver as he comprehended the information. Then he asked, "So when are you traveling to see him?"

Nora looked sharply at her friend. "I am doing no such thing."

Oliver dropped his curly head into his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. "Elinor, darling, don't be dense," he said through his hand.

"What is that supposed to mean? I know you are better at sums than me, but I am not dense."

Hands dropped from Oliver's face, and he gave her a pointed look. "Why do you think that Felix Graham came to Boston?"

"Why," Nora sputtered, grabbing at the letter from Felix as if to offer proof, "he said that his uncle required his help transporting some goods for his business development."

Oliver flashed a wry smile. "Do you hear yourself? I'm pretty sure this Uncle Leo doesn't need help transporting goods. At least not from Felix. That's what their army of servants are for."

Nora paused, wrapping her head around what Oliver was implying. With a nervous flutter in her stomach, she asked, "You mean to imply that he came to America to see me?"

"See," Oliver said, grinning wider, "I knew you weren't dense."

Scowling, she began to pace the length of her room. Felix wouldn't travel all the way across the Atlantic just to see her. Right? There would be no point in doing so. It wasn't as if there was a future for them together.

"But why?" she shouted out to the room.

"I take back my previous comment," Nora heard Oliver mumbled. "Definitely dense." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him stand and stride toward her.

Nora stopped her frantic movements and faced him. "Why is this happening?" she pleaded to her friend, looking up at his towering form. 

Oliver snorted, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "The better question is, why hasn't this happened sooner?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Dropping his hand from her shoulder, Oliver shrugged. "You come back from England every summer and gush about the man. I don't know why it took you both so long to realize that you're in love with each other."

Nora brushed away the comment like it was that pesky bug that annoyed Cooper, waving her hand around in front of her. Frowning, she said, "He is not in love with me, Oliver."

Oliver went to her writing desk and snatched up the three letters from Felix in his hand. He shoved them out for her to see as if she hadn't already memorized every word. "How can you even justify that statement when the proof is clearly here?"

"Because!" Nora nearly shouted. "Why should he love me when he could have any woman in England? Likely any woman in America, too! I know what he has said, but it just doesn't make any sense!"

Oliver tossed the letters back onto her desk, and they floated down in a scattered mess. Nora resisted the urge to go straighten them. "My dear lord, she is hopeless," Oliver muttered.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Nora shot out, not for the first time that afternoon.

With a heavy sigh, Oliver asked, "Must I explain the obvious?"

"Yes, you must. Because I have no idea what you're speaking of."

"Elinor," he began with an exasperated expression, "you have everything a man should want in a wife."

"But--" Nora tried to cut in, knowing what he said was a lie, but he interrupted her.

"No, you listen. You wanted to know, did you not?"

Nora nodded mutely.

"You are a respectable young woman. You have a charming personality. You are quite bright." He broke off and mumbled, "Or so I had thought." Then, Oliver raised his brows and added, "And you have certain...attributes that many men find appealing."

"Oliver!" Nora exclaimed, slightly horrified to hear him say such a thing.

"I didn't say that I did, my dear," Oliver said, throwing up his hands as if defending himself. "It is just a statement of fact."

Nora rolled her eyes but then turned to survey herself in the mirror.

She supposed she did have fine a form. And her shiny, copper locks seemed to accentuate her bright blue eyes. But Nora's little button nose and broad smile didn't seem to match, and she frowned a little.

"You seem awfully confident of yourself when you haven't even read the letter, Oliver," Nora said finally, turning back around to face her friend.

Oliver smirked. Crossing his arms over his chest, he sank down into the armchair in the corner, lounging comfortably. "Prove me wrong," he said. "Read it to me, then."

Nora straightened her back. "Fine." Sitting back down at her writing desk, she grabbed Felix's most recent letter and cleared her throat.

"Dearest Nora," she read aloud and ignored the muffled snort from Oliver.

"This might come as a shock, but I have traveled with Uncle Leo to Boston. He has helped to take over Potter Publishing since his friend, Lord Clemonte, has passed. They are expanding the business to America, and Leo wanted to personally deliver the disassembled pieces of his own printing press. And one, Felix Graham, is here to assist. We will be staying at the Tremont Hotel here in town. Are you familiar? I see it has not yet snowed here in Boston. What of New York? Thinking of you always. Yours fondly, Felix."

Saying the words aloud caused a thrill to go through her. Everything seemed more real when spoken into the world. Ironically, it rendered her speechless.

"I'm going to ask again," Oliver said with one brow raised. "Are you going to go to Boston?"