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Quiet laughter rolled through the group, along with a few surprised murmurs. Miss Benson turned toward the half-circle with a thoughtful expression. “Am I to play matchmaker?”

“Only this once,” Lady Dalmeer said with a chuckle. Surely she wanted to maintain the privilege for herself.

Leah sipped her tea, hoping the shadows of the corner would conceal her well enough.

Miss Benson scoured the crowd, pacing back and forth on the rug as she considered her choice.

And then her gaze landed on Leah. “I should like to present a match for Miss Sterling.”

Leah’s heart sank as she felt all the attention in the room shift to her. She lowered her teacup with a look of surprise. It seemed she wouldn’t be able to avoid participation entirely.

Her heart pounded as Miss Benson confidently made her way toward Mr. Pritchard. The man snored more often than he spoke, but tonight he was wide awake. Red faced and slightly drunk, his graying side whiskers were slicked against his face with some sort of pomade.

Miss Benson waved him forward. “I think Mr. Pritchard would suit Miss Sterling most.” She wore a sweet smile, but Leah sensed the venom beneath it. She never would have guessed Miss Benson was a vengeful woman, but she must have seen through Leah’s schemes with Lady Cartright during her walk that morning.

Leah’s face burned, but it did confirm one thing. Miss Benson did indeed see her as a threat.

Mr. Pritchard’s lips turned upward in a caddish smile as he glanced in Leah’s direction. Lady Dalmeer had invited him because he was her widowed cousin. He mostly kept to himself and his sketchbook, but it was rumored that it was full of likenesses of all the ladies at the party.

The group whispered at Miss Benson’s choice, a few light laughs echoing throughout the drawing room.

Even Lady Dalmeer couldn’t contain her surprise. “That is an unexpected match, indeed.”

“I think they look quite well together. Truly.” Miss Benson smiled sweetly again. “But I am not an expert at such things as you are, my lady. Perhaps we should leave the matchmaking to you in the future.”

Lady Dalmeer accepted the praise with a smile. “At least you have tried your best.”

Leah’s stomach turned, her neck heating as she watched Miss Benson reclaim her place beside Mr. Hawthorne. His smile was absent, a slight crease between his brows.

The game continued as several more guests made attempts at stealing the mistletoe. Leah’s discontent boiled beneath her skin. She had no doubt that Miss Benson had chosen Mr. Pritchard in order to embarrass her. And now Leah was standing there helpless, looking like a timid woman who could not defend herself. She refused to allow Miss Benson to have the last word. If there was anything Leah could do to show that she was unaffected, it would be to play the game.

Leah handed her tea to Katherine without looking, taking a deep breath.

She barely managed to balance it in her hands. “What are you⁠—”

“I wish to make an attempt.”

Thirteen

Felix watched Miss Sterling in the corner, her cheeks rosy, brown eyes fixed on the carpet.

Miss Benson’s choice of matching her with a man like Mr. Pritchard was a sharp blow—anyone could see that. Her innocent act wasn’t fooling Felix, at least. She must have been upset at Miss Sterling for bringing Lady Cartright on their walk that morning, but such a public slight had been a crueler deed than he would have expected from her.

Felix watched an array of emotions building on Miss Sterling’s features as the game continued. Was she embarrassed? Angry? His concern for her stabbed at his chest unexpectedly. He should have thought her deserving of the insult, but his opinion of her was conflicted.

His feelings toward her were conflicted.

When she had been standing beside him, he had enjoyed their conversation about headless shadows. He had also been thoroughly enjoying looking at her in the firelight. His sudden sympathy was unnerving, but so was the frequency at which she subjugated his thoughts.

He tore his gaze away from her downcast expression. It was only upsetting him further. He hadn’t made any attempts to steal the mistletoe, but there were still plenty of willing participants.

He had barely looked away from Miss Sterling when he saw her move from the corner of his eye. By the time he looked in her direction again, she was marching toward the edge of the carpet, her eyes fixed on the mistletoe.

Moving swiftly but quietly, she approached the sprig with an outstretched hand. The gold fabric of her skirts rustled, and Lady Dalmeer turned just as Miss Sterling was reaching for the mistletoe.

“Caught you!” Lady Dalmeer’s enthusiasm never faded for each forfeit she was allowed to bestow. Looking down at Miss Sterling, she appeared even more amused than usual. “I should like you, Miss Sterling, to bestow a token of affection upon your match.”

A rumble of laughter passed through the room, followed by the hiss of overlapping whispers.