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“My walking companion this morning was excessively slow.” He moved to the pile of greenery on the table.

“Miss Benson?” Miss Sterling sounded so innocent, her gaze avoiding his as she distracted herself with her basket. “I would have assumed her pace to be perfectly moderate.”

Felix laughed under his breath. Mr. Newton and the Laurences were listening to their conversation, so he couldn’t speak as freely as he would have liked to. “That is kind of you to assume the best of her. What would you assume of Lady Cartright’s pace?”

Miss Sterling’s lips twitched upward. “It would likely depend upon her motive. If there is pleasant scenery to behold, I imagine she would like to enjoy it as long as possible.” She walked to the other side of the table where he stood, pushing aside a bough to pick up a few pinecones.

Felix lowered his voice. “Pleasant scenery? Are you referring to me or the gardens?”

“The gardens.” Her eyes flickered up to his with a hint of mischief. “But Lady Cartright does seem to consider you pleasant to look at.”

“I thought you assumed my mother was the only one who thought me handsome.”

Miss Sterling paused, her lips twisting as she examined another pinecone. “I might amend that belief to include any woman over the age of fifty.” Her teasing eyes met his.

Felix sighed. “At least I have Lady Cartright and Lady Dalmeer as prospects.”

“Not so. I have heard that Lady Dalmeer is not a day over forty-five.”

“Who told you that?”

“Lady Dalmeer,” she said plainly.

A laugh escaped him, and he leaned across the table to whisper. “I owe you my gratitude then for aligning me with my only prospect this morning.”

She gave him a sweet smile. “You did say you needed to convince a woman to marry you by the end of the house party. Lady Cartright would not require any convincing at all. I have done you a favor, you see.”

“How kind of you.”

Miss Sterling’s eyes held a victorious glint as she turned around, but it swiftly disappeared into a thoughtful look. “The pinecones look quite plain. Should we still use them?”

Mrs. Laurence gave her a sly look. “You might borrow some of Mr. Woodward’s gold leaf.”

“Surely he wouldn’t give such an advantage to his competition,” Miss Sterling said with a laugh.

Mrs. Laurence shook her head. “The kindness would only be to his own advantage. He is desperate to impress you.” Her eyebrows wiggled. “Perhaps he would like the music room to be gilded for your tête-à-tête this afternoon.”

Miss Sterling laughed, but it sounded slightly nervous. She glanced in Felix’s direction.

Was she worried that he had just overheard the details of her plans with Mr. Woodward?

She should be.

He smiled to himself as he carried a long bough to drape across the back of the pianoforte. He kept his back turned to the two women, listening to their conversation.

“What room is Mr. Woodward’s group decorating?” Mrs. Laurence asked.

“The tapestry room.”

“Go ask him for gold leaf!”

Miss Sterling paused. “That might be too forward.”

“Not at all.”

Felix walked forward, an idea striking his mind. “Lord Weymouth’s group purchased a booklet of gold leaf as well. I’ll borrow his instead.” Felix had spoken to Freddie about their competition the night before in the drawing room. It seemed that Mr. Woodward’s group wasn’t the only one with the idea to gild what they had scavenged.

Miss Sterling scowled. “No—that is all right. I will go to the tapestry room now.”