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What more could Leah do?

She took a large bite of her dessert, not caring to notice what it was. Plum? Cherry? She chewed quickly and swallowed, fighting a wave of nausea. Surely she wasn’t jealous of Mr. Hawthorne’s success with Miss Benson. She must have been feeling the woes of defeat. That was all.

And if she was jealous, it was only because he had deterred two of her prospects and she had yet to successfully deter even one of his.

Removing to the drawing room was a relief, at least until the men rejoined the women there. Leah stood on the outskirts of the room. Mr. Woodward didn’t even glance in her direction as he entered, but instead joined a young lady named Miss Fuller by the pianoforte. She was shy and sweet from what Leah had observed and was likely a much better match for him.

Leah would have to turn her attention elsewhere, it seemed. Her options were beginning to feel limited. There were plenty of men she hadn’t considered yet, so she made note of them all as they filed into the drawing room.

There was Lord Dalmeer, but his interest in another one of the ladies had become quite obvious, especially that evening. Mr. Prescott was quite handsome, though he had been spending a great deal of time with Miss Hollis. Mr. Tinston, Mr. Kendrick, Lord Finsbury, Mr. Stroud, Lord Stanhope, Mr. Cole…Leah listed all the names of the eligible men she remembered as they joined the rough half-circle surrounding the fireplace.

The group had gathered to observe the announcement of the winner of the decorating competition as well as the lighting of the Yule log.

Mr. Hawthorne entered the room last, his gaze immediately searching the crowd. Leah assumed he was looking for Miss Benson. A jolt of surprise shot through her chest when his gaze settled on her instead.

And then he started in her direction.

“Good evening,” he said as he reached her, a soft smile on his lips.

“Good evening, Mr. Hawthorne.” Leah turned her attention forward, where Lady Dalmeer had moved to stand in front of the fireplace. The massive Yule log was already positioned in the hearth, wrapped in twigs and kindling. Lady Dalmeer had appointed herself to ignite the log, which she did with no small measure of drama.

The twigs caught fire first, but the flames spread quickly to cover the entire log.

Lady Dalmeer gave a deep bow as the group cheered. “How fortunate we are that it ignited on my first attempt! We shall be sure to have good luck in the coming year.” She paused with a look of suspense. “But do keep a close eye on your shadows. A headless shadow means certain death in the new year, I am told.” She laughed despite the grimness of her comment.

Leah accidentally exchanged a glance with Mr. Hawthorne. His eyes danced with amusement, and he leaned closer. “I regret to inform you that my shadow has a head.”

Leah glanced at the wall behind him, the evidence flickering there beside her own. “A very large one,” she observed.

Mr. Hawthorne let out a laugh. “Does that promise good luck and prosperity?”

She gave him a thoughtful look. “I would rather think it promises an inflated sense of pride.”

“That’s better than certain death,” he said, his voice close to her ear. “Your head looks even larger than mine.”

“It is not!” Leah turned to the wall again, her shadow mingling with those of the other guests. “My shadow’s head is of very average proportions.”

Mr. Hawthorne grinned. The light from the fire brought warm tones to his skin and hair. “If a boulder balancing on a twig is proportionate.”

Leah shot him an exasperated look, but a laugh still burst out of her. “That is cruel.”

“I’m only jesting,” he whispered. “You and your shadow are both of fine proportions and very pleasant to look at.”

Leah’s lips parted, but no words came out. She hardly knew how to respond to that. Her skin felt hot, but she blamed the fire. “Why are you not standing with Miss Benson?” she blurted.

Mr. Hawthorne still wore a broad smile. “I thought it best to remove any chance of your retaliation. Why are you not with Mr. Woodward?”

“He appears to be occupied.” Leah cast a pointed glance in Mr. Woodward’s direction.

“Ah, yes.” Mr. Hawthorne nodded. “I did introduce him to Miss Fuller. They seem to have a great deal in common.”

“You are relentless.” Leah sighed. “Who should I pursue now?”

His eyebrows lifted as he leaned closer. “Do you actually want my opinion?”

“No. I am asking simply so I can do the opposite.”

He seemed to be entirely unaffected by her candor. He laughed again, quietly, and close to her ear. “Then you may pursue whomever you wish.” His breath brushed her neck, sending a chill over the back of her shoulders. Leah closed her eyes, the warmth of the blazing yule log burning her skin.