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“I would rather you not continue standing here, Mr. Hawthorne,” she said, lifting her eyes to meet his. “You have been giving the other gentlemen the impression that you are interested in me. I would like to appear unattached.”

He crossed his arms. “Perhaps that’s part of my game.”

“That isn’t fair.” Leah shot him a scolding look. “I can’t effectively use the same strategy against you.”

“How do you know that?”

She lowered her voice. “If I pretended to flirt with you, I would only drive away all of my prospects and harm my own reputation. A flirtatious woman faces far more ridicule than a flirtatious man.”

He seemed to consider her words. “That may be so, but flirtatious women are often the quickest to find themselves wed.”

Leah exhaled sharply. “Are you suggesting that I am unwed because I lack the talent of flirting?”

“Not the talent, but perhaps the courage.” A challenge lingered in his voice.

Leah glared up at him. “If I believed I could deter Miss Benson by flirting with you, I would do it. But she was entirely undeterred by Lady Cartright’s attention already.”

Mr. Hawthorne laughed, leaning in with a whisper. “Yes, but that was Lady Cartright. She isn’t a real threat.”

“And I am?”

His gaze settled on Leah’s face for several seconds, but he didn’t reply quickly enough. Lady Dalmeer had centered herself in front of the burning Yule log, calling the room to attention.

Leah took the opportunity to slip away from Mr. Hawthorne’s side, positioning herself closer to Katherine and Tom on the opposite end of the half-circle.

Her lungs were tight as she drew in a breath. Away from Mr. Hawthorne, she was finally able to exhale the tension she felt. Her relief only lasted a short moment, though. Leah watched as Miss Benson weaved her way through the crowd, taking the empty space Leah had left beside Mr. Hawthorne.

Her gaze shifted in Leah’s direction, brows perched low over her eyes.

Was Mr. Hawthorne right? Did Miss Benson consider Leah a threat?

Leah felt a twinge of irritation as the woman put on a sweet smile, touching Mr. Hawthorne’s arm lightly to begin a conversation.

Leah bit her lower lip in thought. At the moment, she didn’t have any prospects of her own. So what did she have to lose? Mr. Hawthorne had flirted with her in front of both Mr. Newton and Mr. Woodward.

Could she not do the same?

Lady Dalmeer’s voice interrupted Leah’s thoughts. “The decorators of the winning room shall have the privilege of choosing the forfeits for this evening’s game!” Lady Dalmeer’s smile grew. “It was no easy matter to decide. Each room—well, most of the rooms—have been made exceedingly handsome from your great efforts. Yet in the end, there could be no question: the drawing room was, without doubt, the most festive of them all!”

Leah’s brow furrowed as she exchanged a glance with Katherine. “Who decorated the drawing room?” she whispered.

Her question was answered as Lady Dalmeer crowned herself with a holly wreath. The leaves and red berries nestled among her blonde curls, her mouth spread in a proud smile. After all she had organized for the decorating competition…had she truly chosen herself as the winner?

Leah stifled a laugh of disbelief. Against her will, her gaze drifted to Mr. Hawthorne. She didn’t know why she felt the need to share her amusement with him, but when his smiling eyes met hers just as instantly, her heart gave an unwelcome leap.

She faced forward again, swallowing hard as she tried to tame her smile.

After accepting a round of applause for her victory, Lady Dalmeer announced the parlor game of her choice, which she called ‘Steal the Mistletoe.’ She appointed herself as the one the guests would be attempting to steal it from, and as the winner of the competition, she was also granted the right of choosing all the forfeits for those who failed.

Participation was voluntary, to some degree, so Leah kept to the outskirts of the room. She drank a cup of tea as an excuse not to play, balancing the saucer carefully in one hand. The participating guests gathered near Lady Dalmeer, who stood with her back to a sprig of mistletoe resting on the rug behind her.

One by one, those who wished to play the game crept toward the mistletoe, and more often than not, were caught by the countess. The forfeits she demanded were further motivation for Leah not to play the game. One man had to snort like a pig, another had to imitate a lion, others bestowed kisses on the cheek or hand, and some were forced to sing carols.

Miss Benson took her turn, tiptoeing toward the mistletoe. She reached for it just as Lady Dalmeer whirled around. “Caught you!”

Miss Benson cast a pouting expression at all the guests before replacing it with a gracious smile. “What forfeit do you require of me, my lady?”

Lady Dalmeer pursed her lips in a smirk. “You must present a lady of your choice with the gentleman you think would suit her most.”