She turned to face Hope.
“Despite what you and grandmother believe, I’m quite capable of handling myself. Besides, it is not me that we have worry about.”
Hope frowned slightly.
“Do you mean Grace? She rarely ever looks up from the pages of her books. Unless it’s to consort with that reading group of hers.”
“Exactly,” Faith said. She began to walk away but added over her shoulder. “It’s the quiet ones you have to worry about.”
“Oh, but…”
She tried to continue their conversation, but Faith only drifted away, melting into the sea of guests moving about the grand ballroom. Hope sighed, fretting over the ever-present tension between her and her sisters.
There had been a time when the three of them had been very close. Before moving in with their grandmother, she and Faith particularly had been the dearest of companions. But in the years since their parents’ death, each sister had come to different conclusions about life, and a wedge seemed to separate them, like the tendrils of ivy breaking through a brick wall.
Each of the sisters had dealt with the tragedy differently. Grace had withdrawn into an isolation that it seemed no one could breach, not even her sisters. Faith had become cynical, always expecting the worst. And while Hope had tried to lift their spirits, it seemed they found her relentless optimism as aggravating as she did their aloofness and pessimism.
Hope wandered across the edge of the ballroom, finding a large marble pillar to lean against at the edge of the ballroom where she could worry about her sisters and grandmother undisturbed—or so she had thought. Suddenly, a male voice spoke in her ear.
“My pearl.” Jacob’s voice shattered her concentration. “I was hoping to see you here.”
Spinning around, she saw the mild, passive gaze of Jacob Pennington’s brown eyes staring back at her. Jacob was a young man of average build and standard features. With wheat colored hair and a somewhat slanted forehead that caused his brow to appear heavier than it was, he gave the appearance of a great thinker, as he so often reminded Hope.
“Jacob, I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been having the worst few weeks,” she said, her hand going up to the lapel of his jacket, but he quickly pushed it away.
Though the show of physical support would have buoyed her heart—and the rejection of it pained her—she refrained from telling him so. He would only reprimand her for being emotional.
“Now, now, we wouldn’t want any gossip. I’m quite certain we can speak without touching,” he chided as he glanced around. “We don’t want people to think that the apple doesn’t fall too far from the family tree.”
Hope frowned. Jacob never wished to show affection, not even in private. But what was he talking about?
“My family tree?” Hope repeated, confused. “What does that mean?”
“My pearl, let’s not make a scene,” he said, ignoring her question.
“I am not making a scene,” she said softly. “I am simply asking you a question. Why mention my family tree?”
“I don’t think there’s a need to delve into your family history here, is there?”
Hope was perplexed.
“What family history are you speaking of?” she asked, her voice dipping to a whisper as a couple passed them.
Jacob nodded at the couple, his own tone dropping.
“Let’s not discuss it here. We don’t want others gossiping about you sulking.”
“I’m not sulking.”
“You certainly sound as though you’re sulking.”
Hope exhaled and began to count in her mind.One, two, three…
“I’m not sulking,” she said through gritted teeth, trying with all her might to hold on to her good nature. “I’m simply trying to have a conversation.”
Jacob’s brow lifted in surprise.
“My, I wonder what’s gotten into you this evening. You seem peevish. Have you eaten?”
