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“The very one.” Her nerves settled slightly. If they could still tease one another, then not everything had been thrown into tumult by their kiss. It had likely meant nothing to him at all.

“That source cannot be trusted,” he said. “I am an excellent artist.”

Leah gave him a skeptical look. “Tracing a shadow cannot be considered a difficult art form.”

“That would depend on the subject. I hope you know how to sit still.” He smiled, leading the way to an empty stool, which was positioned in front of a single candle. He gestured for Leah to take the seat first.

“Sitting still is practically all I know how to do,” Leah said with a light laugh. She lowered herself onto the stool, ensuring she was centered in front of the candle. Her shadow appeared on the opposite wall, and she watched as Mr. Hawthorne adhered a paper under it. His tall frame blocked her shadow for a moment as he turned to face her.

“What do you mean?”

Leah shook her head. “Nothing. I meant nothing by it.”

Mr. Hawthorne raised his pencil. “I shall draw you headless if you don’t answer at once. Bad luck next year.”

Leah gasped, a laugh spilling out. “I believe it was death next year. That is slightly more inconvenient.”

“Only slightly.”

“My head is the only thing you’re tracing,” Leah pointed out. “If you make me headless you will be left with nothing but a blank paper.”

His smile was contagious, and he laughed along with her. “I suppose you are right.”

Leah watched him as he turned his attention to the paper. She quickly turned to the side, holding as still as she could so he would be able to see the shadow of her profile.

“You do sit still remarkably well,” Mr. Hawthorne’s voice was low with concentration. “But I’m certain you do other things just as well. You must tell me what you meant by that criticism.”

Leah sighed. “You truly won’t let the subject rest?”

“No.”

She paused for a few seconds. “Are you certain you want me to speak?”

“Why would I not?”

“I cannot speak and hold still at the same time. My lips will move too much.”

“I can manage for now,” he said, his voice made quiet by his concentration. “I’m not tracing your lips yet.”

Leah’s face grew hot. “All I meant was that when I’m at home, I’m obliged to sit indoors most of the time and read, practice my instruments, or embroider, none of which I possess a particular talent for. When I do have other endeavors, I don’t tend to succeed at them.” She kept her tone light. She didn’t want him to think she was looking for pity. “That is why I possess a talent for sitting still and doing nothing.”

Mr. Hawthorne was silent for a long moment, and she didn’t know whether it was due to reflection or concentration. She almost turned her head to look at him, but then he spoke. “I’m afraid I can’t agree with you.”

“Why not?” she stammered.

“From what I have seen, you constantly succeed at what you set out to do. At least when it comes to me. I have hardly known whether to be frustrated or impressed by your cleverness and determination.”

Had he just complimented her? Leah swallowed hard, and she hoped he couldn’t see it in her shadow.

“And when it comes to sitting still…” he continued. “I don’t imagine you will do so forever. You don’t seem to be the sort of person who would be content with a dull life. When you’ve obtained the freedom you seek, I doubt there’s any dream you won’t pursue.” His words hung in the silence between them.

“Th-thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say. “I am hopeful.”

“Good.” The word was so gentle, Leah had to look at him. His eyes captured hers briefly before she turned to the side again.

“I can think of one thing you don’t know how to do,” Mr. Hawthorne said to fill the silence.

She frowned. “What?”