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“My match?” Miss Sterling’s voice was clear and confident, despite the scrutiny she was under. “That is quite ambiguous, is it not?”

Lady Dalmeer’s eyes twinkled with intrigue. “It very well may be, if you wish.”

Miss Sterling turned toward the crowd. Lady Dalmeer had surely been referring to Mr. Pritchard, but she seemed curious about what Miss Sterling’s new interpretation might be.

Miss Sterling held the sides of her skirts, her shoulders tense, though her expression was smooth and collected as she surveyed the guests. With little hesitation, she walked straight toward Felix.

He stood up taller, a jolt of surprise passing through his chest. She stopped one small pace in front of him, her eyes lifting to his. “I should like Mr. Hawthorne to receive my token.”

The crowd murmured, and Mr. Pritchard grunted with disapproval, turning the sound into a wet cough.

Miss Sterling’s gaze didn’t leave Felix’s face, a challenge gleaming in her brown eyes. Whether this was revenge against Miss Benson, or an attempt to drive her away, Felix was uncertain. His mind was far more focused on the token of affection he was about to receive.

Would Miss Sterling consider a fist to the face a display of affection? A sound boxing of his nose?

Her lips curved upward in what looked like a shy smile. She was obviously performing for the other guests. Felix’s throat was suddenly dry, but he maintained an even expression.

“What token of affection would you like to bestow upon Mr. Hawthorne?” Lady Dalmeer’s voice carried over the crowd.

Miss Sterling’s chest rose with a deep breath, as if she were gathering her courage. She drew her lower lip partially into her mouth, and Felix couldn’t help but stare at it.

Finally, she spoke. “What do you suggest, my lady?”

A quiet laugh came from behind Felix, though he didn’t bother to place who it came from. It was well-known that, given her matchmaking intentions for the house party, Lady Dalmeer would extract one particular thing from her guests at any given opportunity.

“I think a kiss would be sufficient,” The countess said with a broad smile.

How predictable. Felix captured Miss Sterling’s gaze as she turned to face him again, attempting to communicate without words that he knew what mischief she was up to. Surely she had known that Lady Dalmeer would make such a suggestion.

He sensed Miss Benson’s annoyance from beside him, but Miss Sterling stood perfectly still, as if waiting for him to lean closer.

There had already been many kissing forfeits paid throughout the house party—including that evening. Most were chaste and simple kisses on the hand or cheek, yet the thought of Miss Sterling’s lips anywhere near him still made his pulse quicken. He tried to shun the feeling, just as he had under the mistletoe earlier that day, but he was held entirely captive by her. At some point his animosity had blurred into something stronger, but very different. He didn’t dare try to name it. It was blasted inconvenient, and this moment was not serving to help fight his battle against it.

Thus far at the house party, there had only been one kissing forfeit that Felix could recall that resulted in a kiss on the lips, and it had appeared somewhat accidental.

He searched Miss Sterling’s eyes for any sign that she was more daring than anyone else in that room.

Or that she wanted to be.

She seemed to be contemplating that very question for a few seconds before she rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his. They were as soft as they looked, unfortunately. He inhaled through his nose, breathing in the subtle scent of floral on her hair and skin, and he was suddenly desperate to know if it was also as soft as it looked. Because now Felix was imagining how it might feel to hold her close in the same moment, wrapping his arms around her until there was no space between them. He was curious about every inch of her, yet he was not permitted to investigate further. Would it drive him mad?

Probably.

His heart thudded deep in his chest as Miss Sterling took a step back, her eyes meeting his before flickering away.

She pivoted on one foot, putting on a smile that was both confident and playful as she moved back to her place at the edge of the circle.

Lady Dalmeer rarely appeared shocked, but her usually squinting eyes were round. “Miss Sterling, how bold! Let us hope you haven’t wounded Mr. Pritchard too deeply.” She laughed after the words, but Mr. Pritchard didn’t even attempt to smile.

Beside Felix, Miss Benson let out a brisk exhale. The air stirred with amusement and shock from the other guests, but Miss Benson was understandably vexed—which had obviously been Miss Sterling’s objective.

Felix watched as she retrieved her teacup from her cousin, immediately taking a long sip, pressing her lips to the rim for much longer than she had kissed him.

He would have never thought he could be envious of a teacup.

He tore his gaze away, swallowing hard. His head spun, but he managed to smile as the guests around him chuckled and whispered at Miss Sterling’s boldness. A man from behind patted Felix on the shoulder, and he turned to see that it was Freddie. He couldn’t bear to look at his friend’s teasing expression at the moment, so he fixed his gaze toward the blazing yule log again.

No matter what, he couldn’t permit himself to look in Miss Sterling’s direction again. She had already upset Miss Benson. Miss Sterling had indicated that there was an attachment between them, or at least interest on her side. She had likely sabotaged herself more than she had sabotaged Felix. He was confident that he could win back Miss Benson’s favor. The fact that she was upset at all must have meant that she was interested in Felix—and that perhaps a proposal wouldn’t be horribly received.