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“The poor cakes.” Felix whispered with a smile. “How dreadful they must feel being your last choice.”

Leah’s eyes met his abruptly before falling away. She studied the desserts for a long moment, a crease appearing in her brow.

What had he done this time?

She reached for the tray, picking up one of the queen cakes gingerly. “Please excuse me, Mr. Hawthorne.” She gave a hasty curtsy before crossing the room with her cake in hand, returning to the Laurences.

Felix frowned at the tray of queen cakes, his heart in his throat. Was he foolish to think that his feelings were returned? Perhaps Leah wasn’t ready to hear how he felt. She didn’t seem open to speaking with him for more than a brief moment. That certainly didn’t indicate that she was open to spending the rest of her life with him.

He felt his hope sinking like a heavy anchor in his stomach.

Returning to his seat beside Freddie, he wasn’t surprised to find that Lady Cartright had made her way to the adjacent chair. Felix had hoped that her attention had shifted to one of the other men at the party, but she didn’t seem to limit herself to just one.

“Mr. Hawthorne, have you any musical talents to share?” she asked as he found his seat. Her gray-streaked hair was piled high atop her head in a fashion that was eerily similar to Lady Dalmeer’s.

He shook his head. “None that wouldn’t cause harm to the ears of all these lovely people.”

Lady Cartright laughed, fluttering her lace fan in front of her face.

Felix couldn’t bring himself to share her amusement—especially because he had no wish to encourage her flirtation. He pretended to be focused on the next performer as she stepped up to play the harp, but Lady Cartright continued whispering from beside him.

“Surely Miss Benson’s rejection is not the cause of such a grave countenance. I always thought you capable of doing better.”

Felix turned his head toward the woman, unable to ignore such a comment. “Her rejection?”

Lady Cartright’s eyes danced with intrigue. “She did reject your proposal, did she not?”

Felix frowned. “Where did you hear that?”

Lady Cartright’s brows lifted. “Well, everywhere.” She laughed under her breath. “I’m glad you have been spared the gossip yourself, though I confess myself surprised that it has escaped your notice. I suspect the entire party is aware of her rejection now.”

Felix sat back in his chair, his neck growing hot. “You mean to say that Miss Benson has been telling everyone that she rejected me? When?”

Lady Cartright nodded. “A few days past. On the thirtieth, I believe.” Her eyes lit up hungrily. “Is this not true?”

Felix kept his mouth shut, his head spinning. He refused to give her more to gossip about. If it helped Miss Benson’s reputation to claim that she declined his imaginary proposal, then so be it. But the fact that Leah might have heard the gossip was what set his heart racing. If she believed that he had been rejected by Miss Benson before he had proposed to her…then that explained why she had been so hesitant to accept him.

He closed his eyes as dread poured through his chest. Of course she questioned his feelings! It was no wonder why she had been avoiding him.

The final few performances felt like an eternity. When Lady Dalmeer offered her closing remarks, the guests all happily stood, eager to retire for the evening. Felix weaved his way past a row of spectators, making his way toward Leah.

The candlelight caught on her shocked features as he appeared in front of her.

“I must speak with you,” he said in a quiet voice.

She glanced at her cousin over her shoulder, twisting her gloved fingers together. “Perhaps in the morning.”

“Urgently,” Felix added.

Her eyes flew up to his, and he saw the raw emotion in them. Before she could protest, he took her hand in his and led her toward the doorway.

Leah went willingly, her pulse racing past her ears as Mr. Hawthorne pulled her through the dim passage outside the music room. The black and white checkered floor blurred beneath her feet, the stone columns skimming past one after the other. Her head spun.

They turned a corner, stopping just before the entrance to the antique passage. The air was colder there, so far removed from any fireplace. Moonlight spilled through the windows, making the cream stone on the columns appear silver.

Mr. Hawthorne turned to face her, keeping her fingers cradled in his. “I’m sorry, but this couldn’t wait—not a moment longer.”

Leah nodded, swallowing hard. She had spent the last few days trying to focus on anything but him, but her efforts had been futile. Every time she thought of Switzerland, she found herself wishing she could have Mr. Hawthorne instead. She had been distracting herself with planning the trip with Katherine, or spending time with Clara or Grace, but no matter how she tried, she hadn’t been able to escape the desires of her heart.