sad little heart tug again.
“Shall we begin?” Under the bright glow of the chandelier, his eyes seemed to hold a thousand shades of blue.
She swallowed back a sigh. “Yes.”
“After you.” He gestured for her to take the lead.
For a dangerous moment, she couldn’t make her feet work properly. Jonathon seemed different today, more intent, more focused. His silvery-blue eyes gleamed with intelligence and something else, something she knew better than to define.
Quickly breaking eye contact, she directed him to the far right corner of the ballroom. Their heels struck the freshly polished floor in perfect rhythm with one another.
“We’ll set up banquet tables here and...over there.” She made a sweeping gesture toward the opposite corner. “This will allow easy access to the food without obstructing the general flow of traffic to and from the dance floor.”
He studied the two spaces. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if picturing the setup in his mind. “Excellent.”
Pleased by his approval, she continued guiding him through the room, stopping at various points along the way to explain her ideas in greater detail. When they were once again standing in the spot where they’d begun, she drew in a deep breath. “Do you have any questions or concerns?”
“Not at the moment.” He smiled down at her. “Thank you, Fanny. As always, you’ve thought of everything.”
Had she? She turned in a slow circle, attempting to determine if there’d been a forgotten detail, something they were both missing. When nothing came to mind, she returned his smile. “I think we’re ready.”
“So it would seem.”
A moment of silent understanding passed between them. His expression was so full of meaning, so unexpectedly affectionate, she thought he might lean in closer and...and...
She quickly looked away. “I hope Mrs. Singletary agrees.”
That earned her a soft chuckle. “You’ve left nothing to chance. I’m confident your efforts will find favor with the illustrious Beatrix Singletary.”
“Did I hear someone mention my name?” As if she’d been waiting for her cue, the widow materialized in the doorway, one hand on her hip, the other poised against her chin.
On anyone else, the pose would look ridiculous. Not on Mrs. Singletary. She was a woman with flair, always dressed impeccably in the latest fashion. A renowned beauty in her day, the widow had golden-brown hair that was a perfect foil for her fair complexion. Her face showed few signs that nearly four and a half decades had passed since her birth.
Fanny liked the woman. She especially appreciated the way she ran her vast fortune, and hoped to learn much from her now that she’d joined forces with Jonathon.
As was his custom, he stepped forward and greeted the widow by placing a light kiss to her extended hand. “It’s always a pleasure to see you in the hotel, Mrs. Singletary.”
“It’s always a pleasure to be in the hotel, Mr. Hawkins.”
Mouth tilted at an amused angle, he released her hand. “Would you prefer a walk-through of the ballroom now, or after we review the final guest list?”
“Now, of course. We did, after all, come here first.”
One dark eyebrow shot up. “We?”
“My companion and I. Do come along, Philomena.” A slight crease marred the widow’s forehead as she glanced over her shoulder. “Lurking in the shadows is quite unseemly.”
The young woman hurried forward.
Philomena Ferguson was, to Fanny’s thinking, the most likable of the seven Ferguson sisters. With her remarkable hazel eyes, golden-brown hair and flawless complexion, she was also the most beautiful. Her pale green shirtwaist dress, cut in an A-line silhouette, only served to enhance her extraordinary looks.
Wondering if Jonathon noticed Philomena’s undeniable charms, Fanny slid a glance at him. He was still looking at her. Not Philomena, her.
Fanny knew better than to read too much into his attentiveness. The one occasion she’d thought he might actually kiss her, or perhaps profess a personal interest in her, he’d taken the opportunity to explain the motivation behind his refusal to marry. Ever.
This time, when the heart tug came, she shoved it aside with a fast, determined swallow.
“Mr. Hawkins.” Mrs. Singletary tapped his arm, the gesture sufficiently pulling his attention away from Fanny. “I believe you’ve met my companion.”
“We are acquainted. Miss Ferguson.” He cast a pleasant, if somewhat distant smile in Philomena’s direction. “Lovely to see you again.”
An attractive blush spread across her cheeks. “Thank you, Mr. Hawkins, and you as well.”
As she bounced her gaze between the two, a speculative gleam lit Mrs. Singletary’s eye.
That look put Fanny instantly on guard. It was no secret the widow considered herself an accomplished matchmaker. For good reason. Mrs. Singletary had proved herself quite skilled at ferreting out potential love matches. One of her most recent successes involved Fanny’s childhood friend Molly Taylor Scott, who was now married to Fanny’s brother, Garrett.
Thanks, also, to the widow’s efforts, her sister was happily settled, as well—to Fanny’s former fiancé. She was glad Callie and Reese had found one another. They’d married for love, which was the only reason for pledging lifelong vows, to Fanny’s way of thinking. Marrying for anything less than an all-consuming love would be tantamount to imprisonment.
Mrs. Singletary’s eyes sharpened over Jonathon and Philomena. Oh, no. Did the widow have her next match in mind?
“Well, then, Mr. Hawkins.” A sly smile spread across the widow’s lips. “Since you and my companion are already acquainted, I trust you have no objection to attending the opera with us tomorrow evening.”
Fanny made a soft sound of protest in her throat, barely audible, but Jonathon must have caught it because he asked, “You have a concern?”
Think, Fanny, think.
“We’re scheduled to, ah, review next month’s bookings tomorrow afternoon.” An endeavor that almost always went late. She started to say as much but stopped when she glanced at Mrs. Singletary’s raised eyebrow. “However, we can certainly reschedule.”
Jonathon frowned at her. “Reschedule? But we always—”
“Oh, excellent,” Mrs. Singletary declared, cutting him off midsentence. “This is most excellent, indeed. You, Mr. Hawkins, are now perfectly free to join Philomena and me tomorrow evening.”
His frown deepened. “Mrs. Singletary, I cannot attend the opera when I have a prior commitment here at the hotel.”
“Miss Mitchell.” Mrs. Singletary gave Fanny a pointed stare. “You don’t mind, do you, dear, if Philomena and I steal your employer away
