Page 5

Felix frowned at the empty space where she had been standing. An unwelcome sense of guilt gripped his chest. He should have given her the room immediately rather than forcing her out—and with a lingering insult at that.

He whirled around. “Miss Sterling, wait⁠—”

She ignored him, disappearing into the corridor in her stocking feet, bootlaces strung around her fingers. The door closed behind her with a heavy thud, echoing for a moment before the room fell into silence.

Felix bit his cheek with a slow exhale, his eyes shifting to the dark yellow bed coverings. They were begging to be called green but hadn’t quite achieved the distinction.

He stared at the door, irritation rising within him.

Had Miss Sterling just proven that he wasn’t a gentleman?

He had spent years trying to earn that title when most of his decisions had muddied society’s view of him. He had decided years before that he didn’t want to be a menace to society or his family any longer. He had been trying very hard to grow up, to mature into the man his mother would have liked him to be, and part of that ambition was why he had attended this house party at all.

His mother’s dying wish, one year before, was that he find a wife—an accomplished young lady with whom he could create a family and heir to his estate. It had caused Mother a great deal of distress that she wouldn’t live to see his success in the matter.

Felix had neglected his search for a wife for long enough, and he hoped to have it over with soon. Assigning the task to a singular house party made it seem a little less daunting, and it would hopefully limit his options enough to make his decision swift. Before arriving at Bellthorne Hall, he had compiled a list of what he was searching for. He had even committed it to memory.

A kind disposition.

A gentle and proper manner.

A talent for art and music.

A talent for languages.

A highly respectable family of good reputation.

With fifty guests attending, surely Felix could find a lady who fulfilled those requirements. Returning home without a betrothed was not an option. He had already made up his mind, and even his butler and housekeeper were expecting the mistress of Merewood House to arrive on the doorstep after the new year.

Felix would like to have a fondness for the woman of his choosing, but he didn’t require much more than that. His own parents had managed their own lives within Merewood House quite separately and happily.

Most women, in his experience, would be glad to have an estate like his and the freedom it entailed. They would have no need or desire for his constant companionship or affection. Mother had thrived for many years in such a condition and had wanted for nothing—until she had suddenly wanted the promise of a daughter-in-law and grandchild.

Felix rubbed his forehead. He would have to begin his efforts straight away. He had already managed to infuriate one young lady at the house. The image of Miss Sterling with her ruffled hair and fiery eyes flashed through his mind.

At least their interaction had been productive.

He knew he could cross her swiftly off his list as a potential wife.

Most of the guests wouldn’t be arriving until the next day, and one less young lady to evaluate already had him ahead of schedule.

Three

Tiptoeing through the corridors of Bellthorne Hall with her boots in hand was not the best way to make a strong first impression.

Before Leah could be seen, she ducked into a small window alcove and sat beside the marble bust of a man. His lifeless stone eyes faced her as she laced her boots quickly and adjusted two pins in her hair in the reflection of the window. Still and quiet as the statue was, she found him far more agreeable than the scoundrel she had just been conversing with.

“I wish you could propose to me,” she muttered with a huffed breath as she finished with her laces.

The statue stared at her as she gathered her composure, though he did not offer a proposal.

Unfortunately.

Of all the people who could have been invited to this house party, why Felix Hawthorne? Leah never would have expected him to be all the way in Yorkshire. He was infuriating! His words still stung. He didn’t know how few opportunities she truly had to make a match. He had ruined what might have been her only chance three years ago, and she refused to allow him to do it again.

That was the only reason she had surrendered the bedchamber.

She had not come to Bellthorne Hall to make an enemy. She had come to make a match, and that match was most certainly not Mr. Hawthorne.