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“Steal mistletoe from behind Lady Dalmeer’s back.”

Leah’s heart dropped. Her position was entirely unfair. Mr. Hawthorne could freely observe her reaction, but she was not supposed to move her head. She willed her cheeks not to burn. “Perhaps I didn’t want to succeed.”

“So you could kiss me?”

Leah couldn’t control the color of her face any longer, and she hated that she was on display. “I didn’t know what the forfeit would be!”

“But you knew Lady Dalmeer would suggest a kiss.” Mr. Hawthorne seemed to be prying. Did he want to believe that Leah had kissed him because she wanted to? Her stomach fluttered at the idea.

“Miss Benson tried to match me with Mr. Pritchard,” she said. “I knew of one thing that would vex her most and I did it. That is all.”

Mr. Hawthorne chuckled. “Well, you will be pleased to see that she has drawn his attention herself. He flew to Miss Benson’s side before I had the chance to partner with her.”

Leah followed his gaze to where Miss Benson sat on a stool, with Mr. Pritchard tracing her shadow on the opposite wall.

She laughed, a light snort escaping with the sound. She covered her mouth. “I’m sorry. I should not be so delighted.” She stole a glance at Mr. Hawthorne as he revised one of the lines on her silhouette.

“You do delight in revenge,” he said, throwing her a pointed look.

“That makes me sound wicked.”

“You are wicked, Miss Sterling. It’s what I like about you.”

She laughed. “You like something about me?”

He turned, striding toward her. Before she could question what he was doing, he adjusted a curl on one side of her forehead. “I like a great deal about you.” His voice was quiet. His fingers moved to her chin, and he tilted it slightly upward. His intent eyes traced over her face, and then they shifted to the wall where he examined the result of his adjustments on her shadow.

Leah’s jaw stitched shut. She hardly knew what to say. Her heart thrummed fast in the silence. A tingle of excitement passed through her chest, which was quite unexpected. Being liked by Mr. Hawthorne shouldn’t have been so thrilling, nor should being touched by him.

She swallowed, holding as still as possible as his hand left her face.

He returned to the wall, darkening another of the lines on the paper. “Don’t allow it to inflate your pride,” he added.

She could hear the smile in his voice.

She grinned. “It already did. Exactly how large are you drawing my head?”

“Hush,” he said. “I’m tracing your lips now.”

She held still for a few seconds. “Are you thinking of how fine they are?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw him rotate fully toward her. “Did you just flirt with me, Miss Sterling?” The disbelief in his voice was mingled with amusement.

She couldn’t blame him. She had surprised herself, too.

“No. I’m simply proving that you inflated my pride.”

“I see.”

She stole a glance at his grin. He was even more handsome when he smiled like that.

“There. It is finished.” He took the paper off the wall and presented it to her. She stood from the stool, bending her head over the drawing. It was more precise than she had expected, and she could easily recognize her likeness.

Mr. Hawthorne seemed to be awaiting her opinion, leaning over the paper beside her. She looked up abruptly, finding his face much closer than she had expected. “You did well. It looks like me.”

His laugh rustled the hair on her neck. “I’m glad you approve.”

The warmth of his breath caused a tingle to steal across the surface of her skin. She turned around fast, gesturing at the stool. “Now, take a seat. It’s my turn.”