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didn’t trust herself. Yes, he was handsome. Beautiful, even. But she wasn’t so weak to let that guide her. It was his intensity. His confidence. When he looked at her . . . and said the outrageous things he said, she felt alive. Every nerve in her body tingled and broke loose from slumber.
    She had not even realized she had been living and walking around half-awake until now. Until him. He made her feel breathless and anxious and thrilled and nauseated all at once.
    “Perhaps you don’t know your sister as well as you think you do,” she countered, ignoring her mother’s small sound of displeasure beside her. “There’s a bit of the fanciful inside everyone.”
    He clung to his smile, but his eyes changed . . . hardened with something akin to determination.
    This time, she didn’t look away. She let him drink his fill of her and read the resolve in her own expression.
    V iolet spent the next three days avoiding the earl. No easy feat with matchmaking mamas involved.
    She knew she couldn’t avoid him entirely for the remainder of her stay, but she could make certain they were never alone again. She glued herself to Aurelia’s side whenever possible, never straying far as they hunted for a Christmas tree or arranged holly and decorated beribboned boughs throughout the house.
    The man was trouble. He made her doubt herself and all her carefully laid plans. He made her doubt . . . everything . With a satisfied nod at her reflection in the dressing table mirror, she exited her bedchamber to join the others for dinner downstairs, smoothing a hand over her gold skirts. Ever since Papa told her that it made her eyes glow like a lion’s, it had been a favorite. Even Mr. Weston complimented her when he had seen her wear it.
    A sudden thought slid through her mind, jarring her as effectively as a window slamming shut. Would the earl like it? As quickly as the aggravating thought arrived, she banished it with a sharp intake of breath. His preferences did not matter.
    “You’re avoiding me.”
    She gave a small yelp at the deep voice so close to her ear. Whirling around, she faced the glowering earl. “You frightened me.”
    He stepped closer in the corridor, the breadth of his chest pushing at her bodice. Instantly, her breasts tightened. She stepped back hastily, furious with her body’s treacherous reaction to him.
    Her body had never felt like this before . . . as though it was its own entity, apart from her. Not even when Mr. Weston kissed her had she felt so . . . had she felt .
    A breath shuddered past her lips. A situation that was drastically unfair. She and the earl had not even kissed—nor would they ever—and yet he made her entire body sit up and take notice.
    She backed up until she collided with the wall, her hand drifting to her hammering pulse at her throat.
    “And how is it that I frighten you?” He was close enough for her to marvel at the darker ring of cobalt rimming the silvery blue of his eyes.
    “Because you startled me, my lord. That is what I meant to say. Startle. Not frighten.”
    He shook his head, a lock of dark brown hair falling over his brow. “No. That’s not it. I frighten you. Today . . . yesterday,” he growled. “You see me and run in the opposite direction.”
    True. She had kept her distance when they scoured the countryside for the perfect tree to grace the grand ballroom for Lady Peregrine’s upcoming Christmas ball. It had taken the better part of two days to find the right tree to satisfy Lady Peregrine. Thankfully, the countess finally spied the massive fir because it had begun to snow in earnest then. It was still snowing. So much so that Lady Peregrine worried if the weather would hamper travel for the guests who had still yet to arrive.
    In the shelter of the group and tromping about the countryside, it had not been too difficult to avoid him. She had stayed close to Aurelia and the Duchess of Banbury—that is when the duke wasn’t whisking his wife