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“I know what’s of good quality, at least. That’s what happens when one’s mother and sister spend every waking moment in the weeks leading up to the holidays embroidering waistcoats, stockings, handkerchiefs, and assorted other items of clothing as Christmas gifts. Not that Natalie’s work was anywhere near the quality of yours—Mother was right about that, too.”

“To be honest, I don’t remember much about Natalie’s work.”

“Remind me to show you sometime the handkerchief she gave me.” He frowned. “You mentioned the gown. Mrs. Beckford won’t mind that the slippers no longer have holly?”

“Actually, Maman told Mrs. Beckford about the competition, and she was quite impressed I’d be seeing the queen. She suggested that I should wear her gown to it, if Maman and I have time to refit it for me. That way people will see the ensemble together. Then I’m to do a gown for her for Twelfth Night instead, since her family has decided to have a big celebration for that. I said we could do that in twelve days. So, she won’t care one whit about me using mistletoe instead of holly.”

He bent over her shoulder to snatch the slipper she’d completed off her lap so he could look at it close up. “You know, mistletoe does have one other advantage over holly.”

“Pray, do enlighten me,” she said sarcastically. With some muttered complaint about “arrogant gentlemen,” she rose and skirted the chair to try and snatch it back from him.

He held the slipper over her head. “A man can use it to do this.”

But when he bent to steal a kiss, she backed away, protesting, “Mistletoe embroidery isn’t remotely the same as real mistletoe. It certainly doesn’t obligate me to allow you a kiss!”

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” he asked, advancing on her until she came up against the wall. “Because you’re afraid I’ll try to kiss you again?” He lowered his voice. “Or because you’re afraid you’ll let me?”

Although a blush stained her cheeks, she stared him down. “I’ll answer your question if you’ll answer mine. Who is Lady Margaret?”

His heart faltered as he halted a scant few inches from her. He should have told her about Margaret himself, but he hadn’t wanted to … to what? Make her hate him? And now that she’d found out somehow … His stomach roiled as he realized what she must think of him.

No, it didn’t matter. It was probably time that he tell her. Besides, if he did, perhaps it would put a stop to this … mad dance of desire he kept wanting to engage in with her. “Lady Margaret is a woman I was planning to offer for.”

“Was?” she asked, her tone hopeful.

He gritted his teeth, angry at himself for that monumental slip of the tongue. “Am planning to offer for.”

She tilted up her chin. “So, why did you kiss me that day in Hatton Garden if you’re planning to make another woman your wife?”

How was he supposed to answer that? “I don’t know. That’s the God’s honest truth.”

She swallowed hard. “Are you in love with her?”

“No.” The answer came more readily than even he expected.

It certainly seemed to take Eve by surprise. “Then, are you … are you marrying her for money?”

“I don’t need to marry for money, if that’s what you’re asking.” Not anymore, anyway, although it had been a near thing once. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Besides, I’m not marrying her for anything yet. I haven’t made an offer.”

“But you’re going to,” she said shakily.

“Probably.” Although every minute he spent this close to Eve weakened his resolve to do so.

A hopeless look crossed her face. “If you don’t love her and don’t need a fortune from her, what do you expect to get out of such a marriage?”

“Peace.”

She flinched. “And I suppose I wouldn’t provide you with peace?” With a furious blush, she looked beyond him. “That is … I didn’t mean to imply … I shouldn’t have said …” She drew herself up like a true Mistletoe Maiden. “Well, we both know you would never offer for me, given my present situation.”

“That has nothing to do with it,” he ground out, hating to cause her pain and dim her radiant spirit. He dared not make her his Mistletoe Maiden, not if he wanted to protect himself. “You’re still a baron’s daughter, and unlike James, your behavior is above reproach. But you’re right, marriage to you would be the very opposite of peace for me.”

“Because Jimmy and Mother and my uncle complicate everything?”

“Because you make me feel things.”

Damn. He shouldn’t have been that honest.

Her lovely eyes, as captivating as they were haunting, met his. “What’s wrong with feeling things?”