Page 19

Leah flinched. “Sorry.”

Tom composed himself, shooting her a glance. “It’s all right. My nerves are already out of sorts this morning.”

“Why?”

“I planned to surprise Katherine with a trip to Applebury, but the weather doesn’t look promising. I would hate to be caught in a snowstorm.”

Leah chewed her lower lip in thought. “How do you know? Fresh snow hasn’t fallen yet.”

Tom shrugged. “The clouds looked ominous.”

An idea struck her as Tom placed a kidney on his plate. “I heard that Mr. Hawthorne possesses a talent for predicting the weather,” she said. “He reads clouds with great accuracy. Perhaps you should invite him to the window to make an assessment. It wouldn’t take long.”

Tom added two muffins to his plate. “If you say so. I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm.”

“No, not at all. He is quite accommodating.”

Leah held her breath as Tom finished filling his plate and started toward the table. She trailed closely behind as he stopped beside Mr. Hawthorne.

“Mr. Hawthorne, may I ask your opinion for a moment?”

Leah caught his gaze as he looked up at Tom. His wavy brown hair was neat today, short stubble covering his jaw. If he was confused by the request, he didn’t show it, keeping his expression polite. “Of course.”

“Just at the window.” Tom waved him forward.

Mr. Hawthorne cast one last smile toward Miss Benson before pushing away from the table. Leah followed the two men to the window as Tom asked Mr. Hawthorne his opinion on the clouds.

“They look…ordinary for December.” Mr. Hawthorne said. “I wouldn’t expect a devastating storm.”

“The sun isn’t out,” Leah observed.

Mr. Hawthorne turned, his eyes connecting with hers. She quickly moved her gaze back out the window, putting on a look of deep curiosity.

“Yes, the lack of sun gave me cause to worry,” Tom continued. “I am told you are adept at deciphering cloud patterns?”

That was her cue to leave. Leah whirled around, starting in the direction of Mr. Hawthorne’s empty seat. She smiled politely as she approached the chair, setting her plate in front of Mr. Hawthorne’s half-empty one. She pushed his casually to the place next to hers.

On that side of the table sat several guests she had met the night before, including a Mr. Prescott. He was certainly handsome and agreeable enough to be added to her list of eligible bachelors. But then there was also Mr. Pritchard, an older man with a wandering eye. Even now, he stared at Leah across the table.

She looked away fast, picking up her fork. “Mr. Hawthorne noticed that I couldn’t reach the marmalade yesterday, so he offered me his place.”

Miss Benson had seemed quite amiable at dinner the night before, but now there was a dark look behind her eyes. Her nostrils flared. Was she upset that Leah had taken Mr. Hawthorne’s seat? It was for her own good, after all.

Leah spread a thin layer of marmalade on her toast.

“That was very kind of him,” Miss Benson said.

Leah paused. She hadn’t meant to make him more desirable.

Mr. Hawthorne and Tom turned away from the window and started toward the table. Mr. Hawthorne’s steps halted briefly as he noticed Leah’s position. She smiled, holding his gaze. Accusation gleamed in his eyes, but he said nothing as he approached the seat where she had moved his plate.

“Thank you for giving up your place, Mr. Hawthorne,” Leah said as he settled into his chair. “I can reach the marmalade much easier from here.”

She knew he wouldn’t deny it in front of all the other guests. Leah had trapped him. She smiled to herself as she took a bite of her toast, though she felt Mr. Hawthorne’s gaze. She angled her body toward him, effectively hiding him from Miss Benson’s view.

“What was your prediction, then?” Leah asked, brushing a crumb off of her lower lip. “Snow or no snow?”

Mr. Hawthorne’s mouth curved upward on one side, but his eyes were humorless. “No snow.”