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She stared up at his face. Was he going to kiss her? What could she say to encourage it? She searched her mind for an idea.

Did she even want to kiss him? She felt no draw toward Mr. Woodward besides a hint of endearment. But she had hardly any time at all to secure her proposal, so she would have to do things that she didn’t want to do. For Switzerland.

She glanced at his lips, repeating the word in her head again. Switzerland.

Perhaps if she looked at his lips for long enough, he would see it as encouragement. Mr. Woodward was so very tall. He would have to bend down a great deal in order to reach her. He shifted nervously. Leah hadn’t considered that he might not like his lips being stared at. Or perhaps he was just oblivious.

She met his gaze just as a deep voice echoed from the doorway.

“What fine decorations, Woodward.”

Leah stepped back, her heart jumping to her throat.

Mr. Hawthorne strode into the room with a jovial smile, his eyes settling on her.

He was anything but oblivious.

“Thank you.” Mr. Woodward turned around fast, instantly moving toward the fireplace. He rested his arm against it, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“What brings the two of you to the tapestry room?” Mr. Hawthorne asked, settling into the red velvet sofa by the tea table. He leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him. He smiled up at Leah, a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

“Tea,” Mr. Woodward said in a quick voice.

“I hope you don’t mind if I join you?” Mr. Hawthorne said. “The music room was occupied.”

“We observed the same thing,” Leah muttered.

“Please do join us!” Mr. Woodward gestured at the sofa Mr. Hawthorne was already sitting in. He cleared his throat. “Er—the tray should be ready any minute now.” He glanced at the door. “I suppose I should ask Mrs. Jennet to bring it here instead of the music room. I’ll ensure she prepares enough for you as well, Mr. Hawthorne.”

“That is very kind, thank you.” He grinned.

Mr. Woodward hurried toward the door. “I shall return shortly.” He disappeared into the corridor within seconds, and Leah wondered if he would ever have the nerve to return. He had been completely flustered by Mr. Hawthorne’s sudden entrance.

As had Leah.

The room flooded with silence, and her stomach clenched with frustration. She whirled to face him.

His eyes gleamed with pride, a devilish smile on his lips. “I do enjoy a good tea tray.” He crossed his ankles, propping a hand behind his head. “Especially after a morning of hard work.”

Leah scoffed. “Hard work? Is that what you call your attempts to interfere with my courtship?”

“Forgive me.” Mr. Hawthorne sat up straighter. “That was easy work. I was referring to the decorating.”

“I see.” Leah planted her hands on her hips. “Hanging one wreath must have worked up an enormous appetite.”

He laughed under his breath. “A fair point.”

“How did you know we would be in the tapestry room?” Leah asked. She could no longer be surprised or even offended by his sabotage. She had deserved his retaliation after what she had done with Lady Cartright and his walk with Miss Benson, but when would it all end? Who would be the one to surrender first?

Certainly not Leah.

She refused to allow him to win, especially when he wore such a victorious grin. She examined his face. He was far too proud of himself.

“I had a feeling the music room would be occupied,” he said.

Leah narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean by a feeling?”

His smile grew, and she pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Did you send Lord Weymouth there?”