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Mr. Hawthorne cast her a questioning look. “What is it?”

“We did agree in the music room to stop intervening with one another’s courtships, did we not?”

He gave a slow nod. “I believe we did.”

The edges of Leah’s face grew hot as she considered how to proceed. “Well…I noticed that you did intervene yesterday.” She swallowed, glancing up at his face as she awaited his reply.

“When I accompanied you to the conservatory?”

Leah nodded, casting him another curious look. “Why did you do it?”

They reached the doors of the house, trailing behind the others as they walked through the entry hall toward the staircase. Leah hadn’t chosen the most opportune moment to ask her question, because soon they would have to part ways. Her hem was wet, her boots trailing puddles of melted snow into the house.

Mr. Hawthorne paused, glancing to their left before seeming to make a swift decision. “Come with me.”

Leah’s heart picked up speed as she allowed Mr. Hawthorne to lead her down the corridor toward the library. He held the door open before following her inside.

Deep walnut bookcases surrounded them on all sides but one, where a fire burned in the hearth. A large rug was spread across the entire floor, and an intricate painting covered the domed ceiling. Combined with the heavy greenery and ribbons, it was Leah’s favorite room in the house.

Mr. Hawthorne met her in the middle of the rug. She took in the details of his face, finding that he was far more serious than he had been a few minutes before.

Serious enough, it seemed, to lead her away from the rest of the party for a private conversation.

“So…why did you do it?” Leah repeated. “I could have possibly received a proposal yesterday, but you prevented it.” Her heart pounded hard in her chest. The ice skating had made her bold, it seemed.

Mr. Hawthorne’s dark eyes were fixed on hers. “I didn’t think you wanted Mr. Markham to propose. When he suggested a private meeting with you, I saw your hesitation and hoped to make you more comfortable.”

Leah was silent for a long moment. It was true—all of his inferences were true. She hadn’t felt ready to accept a proposal from Mr. Markham, but it still vexed her that Mr. Hawthorne had made it his business to prevent it.

“Am I to assume that your interference was entirely selfless?” she asked in a teasing voice. “It had nothing to do with the temptation to sabotage my courtship again?”

Mr. Hawthorne exhaled slowly. “I’m afraid I did fall into that temptation.”

“I knew it!” Leah moved a pace closer. “But I do still wonder at the reason.” She hid the curiosity from her voice. She was desperate to know if he had truly spoken to Mr. Benson that morning about taking his daughter’s hand.

Mr. Hawthorne’s eyes searched her face. “I did it because I couldn’t help it. I don’t think you want to marry Mr. Markham.”

Leah scowled. She felt completely exposed by all his correct assumptions. “That is not for you to decide.”

“If you want me to stop interfering, I will. But I don’t think you want me to.”

Leah scoffed, though the truth of his words sank deep into her bones. Her pride roared. “What has given you that impression?”

“You don’t love him.”

“Not yet.” Leah crossed her arms, matching his posture.

“But why take that risk?” Mr. Hawthorne grumbled. “Why have you placed such pressure on yourself to find a husband by the end of the party?”

Leah could never tell him about her bargain with Katherine about Switzerland, so she diverted the subject instead. “You have done the same thing! Your mother wished you to be married, but she didn’t specify that it had to be to a guest at Lady Dalmeer’s house party.” She inched closer to him with an accusatory look. “I think you are afraid of falling in love.”

His features flickered with uncertainty. “What? I am not.”

“You are trying to find a wife who won’t make you feel things you don’t wish to feel. Vulnerability. Affection. Admiration. The fear of losing her. You would like to be indifferent because it’s safer. You would like to cross an item off a list rather than give your heart to someone.” She tipped her head up to look in his eyes. “Would you not?” Her voice was raw with emotion—and a challenge.

She had left very little space between them, so she was shocked when he moved a step forward. He took her face softly between his hands, his eyes flooding with intensity. Her heart leaped. She could hardly breathe as he gazed down at her. His hands were warm against her cold cheeks, but his eyes burned even hotter as they studied each of her features. And then they fell to her lips.

Leah’s heart pounded, a wave of longing passing through her body. She wanted to ask if he felt any of those things for her, but then his lips were on hers.