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Grace’s fingers were still healing, but she was happy to be well enough to make an attempt at arranging Leah’s hair. She examined her work with an approving nod as she stepped away from the chair in front of Leah’s vanity. “I doubt I’m as good as Clara.”

“I can find no fault with it.” Leah gave her a reassuring smile. She had loved having Clara as her maid, but she had missed the familiarity of Grace.

Leah wanted to confide in Grace as she usually did, but the words stopped in her throat. She was embarrassed to admit to Grace or Katherine that she had such strong feelings for Mr. Hawthorne, especially when she was still trying to court Mr. Markham. So she kept her mouth shut as to her personal struggles, just as she had with Clara. The moment she spoke any of it aloud was the moment it would all become true, and she wasn’t ready for that.

Mr. Hawthorne was meant for Miss Benson, and Leah was meant for someone else.

That was what she told herself. Any alternative wasn’t worth thinking on too deeply, especially with only a few days remaining of the house party.

Her mind had been spinning since the day before, when Mr. Hawthorne had accompanied her with Mr. Markham to the conservatory. The three of them, along with Katherine, had awkwardly remarked on the beauty of the plants and architecture before making their way to the winter gardens.

Mr. Hawthorne had seemed determined not to leave her alone with Mr. Markham. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was still trying to sabotage her. They had made something of a truce in the music room, but his actions the day before hadn’t supported it. Why had he been so determined not to leave her side?

Before she could examine the answer, she shunned her thoughts once again. Isolation led her to fret far too much, so after breakfast, she followed Katherine to watch Tom compete with a few men at billiards. The games were spirited enough to draw in a few more spectators from the first floor of the house, one of whom was Miss Benson.

Leah watched as she and her mother drifted into the billiard room, both women dressed in ivory. Her father, Mr. Benson, was waiting to play the next round.

Miss Benson’s gaze found Leah, and she immediately crossed the room to take the seat beside her. Leah sat upright in surprise. Perhaps her friendliness at the fete had softened Miss Benson’s animosity toward her.

“How are you, Miss Sterling?”

“I am well, and you?”

A slow smile pulled on Miss Benson’s mouth, the green hues in her eyes catching the light of the window. “I am very well.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Leah searched for something more to say. They had never had a conversation before. “I didn’t see you during our snow games yesterday.”

Miss Benson watched the men at the billiard table. She let out a quiet laugh. “I was enjoying the warmth of the house. I did see that you were playing snow games.”

“You…saw?”

“From the window. In passing.” She flicked a curl off the side of her neck, rotating her head to give Leah another smile. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Leah felt the blood draining from her face. There was something accusatory about the question. If Miss Benson had seen Leah out the window, then she must have seen her with Mr. Hawthorne. That was the only explanation for Miss Benson’s curiosity.

“I did. Very much.” Leah shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “You were wise to remain indoors though. It was quite cold. My hands still feel slightly chilled.”

Miss Benson sighed. “And yet there is another outdoor activity planned for today.”

“Indeed. But it should be worth enduring a bit of cold weather.”

Lady Dalmeer had planned a special event for that day—ice skating on the frozen pond on the far side of the property.

“So you will be going?” Miss Benson asked.

Why was she so curious? Leah nodded. “Will you?”

“I don’t think ice skating is a talent of mine. At any rate, I am far too distracted.” Her smile grew as she dropped her gaze. She glanced at Leah, as if she hoped she would inquire further.

“What distracts you? The billiard players?”

Miss Benson laughed. “Of course not.” She leaned closer with a whisper. “Mr. Hawthorne spoke with my father this morning. I am sure he is making arrangements for the terms of our marriage.”

Leah’s stomach sank. “That is…wonderful.” She hadn’t meant to pause, but her heart pounded with dread. Had Mr. Hawthorne truly made up his mind that quickly? She thought of their conversation in the music room. He had seemed less certain of his choice then, so what had changed?

Disappointment gnawed at her heart, continuing to grow until she could hardly sit still. Was she to congratulate Miss Benson? That might have been premature. Leah could think of nothing else to do besides stare at the back of Tom’s head as he positioned his billiard stick. Perhaps Mr. Hawthorne was wise to make a swift decision. He would achieve his goal while Leah floundered in uncertainty.

Her heart ached, and she was powerless to stop it. Mr. Hawthorne had ruined her plans just as thoroughly as he had three years ago. Her time with him had made her forget her dreams of Switzerland.