“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 for one evening?”
Actually, she minded a great deal. “Certainly not.”
Jonathon opened his mouth, then shut it again as he considered the widow through narrowed eyes. “You seem very determined I join you.”
“I am quite determined.”
“Why?”
Undaunted by his suspicious tone, Mrs. Singletary gave a jaunty wave of her hand. “Considering the nature of our business relationship, I am determined we get to know one another on a more personal level. The opera is an excellent place to start.”
Fanny shook her head at the widow’s flimsy excuse. Surely Mrs. Singletary had figured out by now that no one knew Jonathon Hawkins on a personal level. He always held a portion of himself back, never letting anyone past the polished facade. It was that mysterious air that made him so attractive to women, and so confounding to Fanny.
“I appreciate the invitation,” he said at last. “But I must decline.”
He did not expand on his reasons.
A brief battle of wills ensued, but Mrs. Singletary gave in graciously after only a few seconds. “I suppose we will have to try for another time.”
He smiled. Or maybe he didn’t. Fanny wasn’t sure what that twist of his lips meant. “Indeed we will,” he said.
“Well, now.” The widow clapped her hands together. “Shall we begin our tour of this lovely ballroom?”
Before anyone could respond, she linked her arm with Fanny’s. “You will show me around, Miss Mitchell, seeing as the majority of the preparations have fallen upon your capable shoulders.”
The widow all but dragged Fanny deeper into the ballroom, leaving Jonathon and Philomena together. Convenient.
At least neither of them seemed overly pleased to be in the other’s company. Fanny found far more comfort in their mutual uneasiness than she should.
Did Jonathon have any idea what his business partner was plotting? Would it matter if he did? It was a well-known fact that once the widow set her sights on a particular match, there was no changing her mind.
Perhaps Fanny should warn him. Or...perhaps not. She was merely his employee. He’d made it painfully clear there would be nothing more than business between them. She had no claims on him, and she certainly wasn’t interested in him romantically.
That was, at any rate, her official stand on the matter.
* * *
Jonathon had heard his share of disturbing tales concerning Mrs. Singletary’s penchant for matchmaking. He’d dismissed them out of hand. Beatrix Singletary was eccentric to be sure, but he’d never found cause to think her the meddling sort.
Until now.
The woman was actually pushing her companion on him, and she wasn’t even attempting to be subtle. When next he had Mrs. Singletary’s ear, he would inform her that her efforts were wasted on him.
Jonathon would never marry, nor father any children. He came from bad blood, from a long line of selfish men who’d destroyed the women in their lives.
He would not perpetuate the cycle. His newest project would become his legacy, a tangible way to help women rather than hurt them.
He clasped his hands behind his back and looked up at the ceiling, then across the ballroom, over to the doors leading to the terrace, anywhere but at the pretty young woman standing beside him.
Miss Ferguson was likable enough. She was perfectly suitable—for some other man.
“Mr. Hawkins, I apologize for my employer.” Philomena shifted