It wasn’t any of Faith’s business, indeed, and her sister’s desire to study medicine at a university had been known and talked about for months, but a part of Faith worried for her. What if Dr. Hall refused her in a particularly harsh or cutting manner? What if he, like so many others, thought to make a joke or unkind comment about Grace, whose mind often neglected the tedious social decorum everyone else followed? With Grace’s hopes so high, that sort of blow would be devastating.
That was not to say Grace was fragile. In most cases, she took everyone’s prejudices gracefully and forgave them, believing that if they knew better, they might not be so judgmental of her. But when she truly set her heart on something, she could be deeply wounded when she was met with a lack of understanding.
Still, it was too much to convey now, and instead, she simply squeezed Grace’s hand.
“Good luck.”
Grace smiled and turned away, leaving Faith just as the pale-pink vision that was Arabella came toward her.
“Faith!” Arabella said. A quick glance told Faith that Mr. Harris senior was not nearby. “How are you?”
“I’m well,” she answered with a smile. “How are you?”
Arabella took Faith’s hand and tucked it into the crook of her arm as she pulled her into a close walk.
“Very fine indeed, but I’m glad to hear that you are, as well. We were so worried about you after that incident with the horse in the village. I told Papa all about it when I returned home. How frightening it was and how heroic Logan was in his response.”
“Quite heroic,” Faith said softly. “Er, is your father in attendance?”
Arabella frowned, her blonde hair shimmying at the shake of her head.
“No, unfortunately. Papa wasn’t feeling very well, but he insisted that I come with Logan.”
“Oh. Well, I hope he is not under the weather?”
Arabella waved her free hand.
“Papa goes through spells where he cannot sleep. He’s terrible company during them, but I do worry. Perhaps you can come visit one day? He so enjoyed it when you came last.”
Faith swallowed, unsure what Logan would think about seeing her in Harris House again. But she had enjoyed Arabella’s father’s company when she had been there.
“Perhaps,” was all she said when a dark form crossed her path, causing her to look up.
Logan was dressed in gray-and-black tartan, with a vest and evening jacket against a starched white shirt. Faith was instantly frozen beneath his intent, hazel stare as all the air vanished from her lungs. While she hated to admit that she had missed him, especially since their last meeting was only a few days prior, it was worse to realize that the true torture was to be in his presence.
“Miss Sharpe,” he said, his deep voice wrapping around her like a warm length of plaid.
“Mr. Harris,” she said, her eyes trailing down to the glass he held.
“Arabella, if you insist on using me to play fetch, it’s unsporting of you to move,” he said, handing his sister the glass.
“Forgive me,” she said, playfully abashed as she took the glass from Logan. “I was just inquiring whether or not Faith has recovered from her horse ride in Glencoe.”
“I see. And have you?” he asked, his tone somewhat worried.
“I have, thank you,” she said as the music ended.
The crowd around them moved as a waltz began to play.
“Oh, a waltz! Your favorite, Faith,” Arabella said, turning to her brother. “Logan, you must dance with Faith. She loves waltzes.”
“Oh, no,” Faith said quickly. “That’s quite alright—”
But Logan didn’t ask. Instead, he took her hand and led her onto the dance floor. Though no one seemed particularly interested in the two, Faith was sure the entire world was staring at them.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she whispered harshly.
“If we don’t dance together, my sister will prattle on about it indefinitely.”
