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But worse still—he had made her dream of love instead.

Leah had never ventured far enough to see the pond, but when she followed the group of guests on their jaunt through the snow, the icy surface came into view. Her chest had been aching all day, her emotions reeling over what Miss Benson had told her. Leah found it strange that Mr. Hawthorne would propose with several days still remaining in the house party, but he seemed to have made his choice.

She pushed all thoughts of him from her mind. She would have to be focused if she had any hope of surviving on the frozen pond.

Sitting on one of the fallen logs, she strapped the skates she had been provided with to the bottom of her boots. Katherine and Tom had never skated before either, so Leah watched them from afar as they walked unsteadily toward the frozen pond. Katherine clung to Tom’s arm, laughing as she nearly pulled him down with her before they had even reached the ice.

Leah laughed, though her nerves spun faster in her stomach. If Katherine couldn’t look elegant while wearing ice skates, then Leah was absolutely done for.

“Are you coming, Leah?” her cousin called over her shoulder as she and Tom reached the edge of the ice.

“Give me a moment!” Leah placed both feet on the ground, testing her weight on the skates as she stood. As focused as she was, she didn’t hear Mr. Hawthorne sneak up on her.

“Would you like a hand?”

Her eyes shot up to meet his. His grinning lips immediately set her heart pounding, but she managed to appear nonchalant. “I may need your entire arm.”

He laughed, offering that very thing. “It is yours.”

She wrapped her hand around his upper arm as she took a shaky step forward. Why was she so blasted nervous? Not about the skating, but about Mr. Hawthorne’s sudden appearance. She hadn’t seen him ahead of her as the group had made their way to the pond.

He smiled down at her, and warmth bled through her jacket and into her skin. She felt safe holding his arm. His eyes were soft, but still ripe with amusement as he led her onto the ice.

“Why is this so easy for you?” she grumbled, brow furrowed in concentration. “Do you skate often?” She held his arm with both hands now, and she found that she liked it a great deal. His arm. And holding his arm. She remembered that soon Miss Benson would be the only one with that frequent privilege, and her joy disappeared.

It doesn’t matter, she reminded herself. Mr. Hawthorne was her friend. She had never truly considered him for herself. She had been grieving all day as if something had been taken from her, but that wasn’t true. Mr. Hawthorne had never been hers.

His low laugh came close to her ear. “I have had plenty of practice. The pond at my estate freezes most winters.”

“How convenient for you,” she said with a laugh, staring down at her feet.

“Don’t worry, Leah. I won’t let you fall.”

The sound of her name on his voice sent a flutter through her stomach. She did trust him—and the obvious strength of that arm she was holding.

He gave her a few instructions as they made their way onto the ice, but she let out a quiet shriek as she lost her footing. He caught her before she could fall, wrapping his arms around her. She laughed into his chest, her leg slipping forward until it was about to slide under and between his. They were a bundle of limbs as he pulled her upright again, his hands steadying her by the waist.

His eyes gleamed as they smiled into hers.

Not five seconds later, Leah saw Lord and Lady Weymouth fall into a heap on the ice nearby.

She laughed, her stomach aching.

Mr. Hawthorne helped restore her confidence, offering advice as she made her way slowly around the perimeter of the pond. Leah nearly collided with Mr. Pritchard once, and Mr. Woodward’s lanky arm nearly swept her over as she passed him. “Sorry!” he blurted.

Leah’s delight couldn’t be stopped, not even by the many incidents occurring all around her. She had never desired a frozen pond before, but now she would long for one her entire life. How lovely it would be to skate every winter and become as skilled as Mr. Hawthorne was. He didn’t seem unsteady at all, even skating backwards at one point to watch her. She felt self-conscious under his gaze, but she managed not to fall during the brief time she wasn’t holding onto him.

She wondered where Miss Benson was, but she didn’t want to ask. Not while she was having such a wonderful time. That woman had a way of souring Leah’s mood instantly, and she could hardly imagine having a sour mood while ice skating.

Was Mr. Hawthorne not concerned about all the attention he was showing Leah? Surely the other guests would notice if she continued clinging to his arm. But she suddenly didn’t care. She felt a surge of courage like what she had felt in the drawing room the night she kissed him. Why did it matter what the other guests were thinking? Why did it matter if Mr. Hawthorne proposed to Miss Benson tomorrow?

For now, she had him all to herself.

Her cheeks ached from smiling by the time the guests had all finished skating. She was relieved to remove her boots and feel the solid ground beneath her feet. Mr. Hawthorne removed his skates beside her on the fallen log, his cheeks and nose rosy, his brown hair falling over his forehead.

She remained by his side as they walked back to the house through the freshly fallen snow. Her mind raced with all the questions she wanted to ask him, but she was afraid of ruining the joy she felt by having to hear the details of his planned proposal.

“I’m curious about something,” she said as they fell into step behind the last of the group.