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If he played his cards right, he could still succeed at his goal.

A gentleman at the pianoforte sang, quite poorly, Hark the Herald Angels Sing, yet it did little to drown out his thoughts. Miss Benson remained by his side, but at the moment, Felix felt entirely indifferent. She possessed all the qualities from his list, yet he had nearly forgotten she was there. Her jaw was tight, eyes fixed on the singing gentleman, but Felix couldn’t focus enough to even think of what to say to her, or how he might mend what Miss Sterling had so carefully destroyed.

The game continued for a long while, with guests retiring or losing interest near the end of the hour. Felix’s pulse quickened when Miss Sterling passed in front of him, and he couldn’t help but watch her drift out of the room beside her cousin.

She didn’t glance his way.

Not once.

He frowned at the doorway, his chest tight. Why did that bother him so deeply? His desire for Miss Sterling’s attention was the least of his concerns; he feared he would be thinking of their kiss for the rest of the night. The skin behind his ears grew hot, burning with the realization that the woman who intrigued him most didn’t want anything from him…besides his failure.

What a sobering thought.

Fourteen

The Christmas morning church service was led by the vicar, Mr. Tomlinson, who seemed more concerned with securing himself an invitation to dinner at Bellthorne Hall than he was with delivering scripture. Though he did manage to do both. Excessively. The service had already run for over an hour, and Felix’s back ached against the severely upright pews.

Miss Benson had evaded Felix that morning, intentionally or not, by positioning herself beside Lord Dalmeer in his family pew box. Felix sat beside Miss Hollis, a pretty young woman with dark hair and a kind disposition. He should have been planning ways to speak to her, perhaps to consider her as a new prospect, but his mind was entirely elsewhere.

Because somewhere in the pews behind him sat Miss Sterling, and that was enough to rattle his focus.

She had likely secured a seat beside Mr. Woodward or some other eligible gentleman. He wouldn’t know, of course, because he didn’t feel at liberty to turn around and investigate. All he could do was wonder, and his curiosity burned.

Felix exhaled a tense breath as the vicar took a long pause between verses. Would the sermon never end? He barely managed to refrain from bouncing his leg restlessly, which he knew would cause the entire pew to vibrate. Near the end of the row, Mr. Pritchard let out a snore, his head lolling forward and jarring him awake.

When the vicar finally closed his remarks, Felix stood, stretching his back as he turned to survey the rest of the chapel. As he had suspected, Miss Sterling was there, her complexion rosy beneath her brown felt bonnet. She smiled at the man beside her, and Felix’s stomach dropped.

It wasn’t Mr. Woodward.

It was another young man—an unfamiliar one—wearing a black top hat and tan wool overcoat. The day wasn’t cold enough for such a large coat, so Felix could only assume he was wearing it to make his shoulders appear broader, or as some attempt at fashion. He clearly wasn’t a guest at Bellthorne Hall.

Felix’s gaze lingered on them for too long. Miss Benson’s pale pink bonnet drifted past, and he barely managed to stop her.

“Miss Benson.” He followed her into the aisle. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Hawthorne.” She took a step forward with her parents, but Felix spoke again, stopping her.

“What did you think of the sermon?”

She hesitated, but her hazel eyes eventually surrendered. “It was very interesting.”

He smiled. “You needn’t lie to me.”

Her lips curved politely, though her eyes sparked with accusation. “It is not a lie. My brother is a vicar, and I never grow tired of hearing the story of the first Christmas.”

Felix gave a slow nod, feeling rightfully censured. “Forgive my assumptions. You are better than I, Miss Benson. And far more patient.”

She lifted her chin. Her expression indicated that she agreed with each of his statements, but she didn’t make any move to leave his side.

Perhaps she still harbored hope for him.

The sound of Miss Sterling’s laugh drifted from her place beside that unfamiliar gentleman. What had he said that was so funny? Irritation sparked in Felix’s chest, but he ignored it. All it would take was a glance in Miss Sterling’s direction, and Miss Benson might determine that there had been more to their kiss during the parlor game.

He felt in control of himself and his emotions when he was around Miss Benson. She did nothing to rile or unnerve him. Wasn’t that what he had been searching for? A polite and sensible wife with whom he could build a partnership? He needed to bury all thoughts of Miss Sterling before he began wondering what it might take to win her affection instead. She had always been dangerous, but he was only now realizing just how detrimental she might be to his success.

“May I request your company at the village fete tomorrow morning?” Felix asked before Miss Benson could turn away again. “I am particularly skilled at nine pins.”

She cast him a skeptical look. “I shall be the judge of that.”