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As the ladies removed to the drawing room, Katherine caught up to Leah. “Could it be that Mr. Woodward is your first prospect?” she asked in an excited whisper.

Leah shrugged, a smile still lingering on her lips. “I did enjoy our conversation.” She hadn’t felt any attraction to him, but that wasn’t the point, was it? If all she stood to gain from a marriage was her freedom, Switzerland, and a friend, that was surely enough to entice her. Love could come later, if at all. Leah had been trying her best to keep her expectations practical.

Katherine grinned. “Well, he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely,” she whispered as they entered the drawing room.

Bright turquoise furniture and wallpaper engulfed the entire space, a warm fire burning in the hearth. Leah spent most of her time conversing with Lady Weymouth on the sofa, who she learned had just been married shortly before the house party. She was lovely, her manners polite, with kind brown eyes and dark hair. She looked to be near Leah’s age, which was promising.

Perhaps Leah wasn’t entirely on the shelf yet.

“How did your match with Lord Weymouth come about?” Leah asked. “Did you meet in London?”

A faint smile crossed her lips. “The second time, yes.” She paused, as if uncertain of how much to share. “We knew each other many years ago,” Lady Weymouth added, her fingers twisting in her lap. “But our paths crossed again unexpectedly in Town.”

Leah sipped from her teacup. “During the last Season?”

Lady Weymouth hesitated for several seconds. “No—it was…well, it was just a few weeks ago.”

“Weeks?” Leah’s brows shot up before she corrected her expression.

The viscountess seemed uncomfortable being asked such questions, so Leah halted her curiosity. The swiftness of their marriage could have been caused by many things—falling madly in love, a business arrangement of sorts, or even a practical match like Leah expected to make. She was certainly in no position to judge, as she hoped to obtain a proposal in a matter of weeks herself.

But to be married so quickly seemed quite out of the ordinary.

When the gentlemen filed in after port, Leah moved to make room for Lord Weymouth in her place, walking to the settee on the other side of the room. She observed the couple from her new vantage point, searching for signs of true affection. What was her sudden fascination with love? Did it matter if theirs was a love match?

Her own would likely not be one.

The idea sent an unexpected pang of protest through her heart. Perhaps she should be more optimistic. She could fall in love during the house party. Why not? She had fallen quite quickly for Mr. Gilbert Davies once.

Her heart stung again. Her feelings for him had long since faded, but the pain was still awakened by certain thoughts.

And certain faces.

Mr. Hawthorne entered the room last, settling into a chair near the fire. The flickering light cast shadows over his skin, darkening his features and the grooves of his face. He smiled at something Tom said, but his eyes were distant.

Then his gaze settled on Leah, sending a jolt through her body.

To her dismay, he stood and started in her direction.

Her heart picked up speed, a bundle of nerves spinning in her stomach. She adjusted her gloves, looking up only when he was directly beside her. He sat down on the other side of the settee, leaving a respectable distance between them.

“Miss Sterling,” he greeted.

“Mr. Hawthorne.”

“I’d like to apologize for my behavior this afternoon.” His voice was low. “It was entirely inappropriate. I should have left the bedchamber first.”

Leah’s palms perspired inside her gloves. Lady Dalmeer was watching them from across the room, her features heavy with intrigue, as if she had sensed the words ‘inappropriate’ and ‘bedchamber’ being used in the same conversation.

Leah didn’t want to give the countess any indication that she wished to be matched with Mr. Hawthorne. And now Mr. Woodward was nowhere to be seen. Had he retired early?

“Thank you.” Leah couldn’t bring herself to be overly gracious at the moment. “Fortunately, my new chambers are much more pleasant.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Mr. Hawthorne’s voice rumbled with a hint of amusement. He paused in the awkward silence that followed. “I won’t inconvenience you any longer, but I hope you will accept my apology.”

Leah nodded, her brow twinging with confusion.

He stood abruptly. “Good evening, Miss Sterling.”