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Every word a pinprick. Hope had gone to meeting and prayed for peace, prayed for generosity of spirit, prayed for kindness and understanding, but jealousy had squirmed in her like maggots on meat.

“Hope?” Hope started as Peggy’s cheerful face appeared in the doorway. She and Elma and Peggy—how they’d laughed together. Before Levi came and cut up all their peace.

“Did thee need me? I didn’t mean to leave thee with all the work. Thee can scold me if thee like.”

“I don’t mind. You can do mine tomorrow.” Peggy glanced behind her, lowering her voice to a hiss. “You’ve a caller.”

“A caller?”

“I’ll not be far if you want me.” Peggy whisked out of the way and past her stepped Levi.

Hope’s chest felt tight; she couldn’t breathe. He stood there, in the doorframe, his hat in his hand, that rip in his breeches Elma had mended for him, looking at her like there was no one else in the world, and she couldn’t help it: she felt that sudden surge of joy that always attended his appearance.

He wasn’t quite the same. His nose skewed slightly off-center, destroying the symmetry of his face, and there was a fading bruise next to one eye. It ought to have made him look raffish, but it didn’t. The morning sun caught the golden lights in his hair, the broad planes of his cheekbones, the line of his throat beneath the crooked ties of his shirt.

“How dare thee show thy face here!”

“I had to see you.”

Once she would have thrilled to those words. “Why? So thee can ask me to sign another paper?”

“That wasn’t my idea, it was my brother’s; you know it was my brother’s.” Levi took two eager strides toward her, stopping abruptly as Hope flinched away. “You know I would never have hurt her.”

“Do I?” It wasn’t fair that he could still look so appealing. If the form revealed the soul, his face should be dark and cankered; worms should crawl from his lying tongue; his hair should writhe with snakes. “I thought I knew thee. I was mistaken.”

How dare he look so sorrowful? “You know there was nothing of that sort between us.”

His lies gave her strength. Hope drew herself up to her full height. “I know thee was alone in her room with her with the door locked and not a candle lit between you.”

Levi stared at her, his hat hanging forgotten on one hand. “I—how would you—”

Hope’s eyes flickered sideways. “Dr. Snedecker bid me fetch Elma.”

It was only a little lie. She’d been sitting on Elma’s bed with her, talking about something she didn’t remember, when Levi had come to the door—and Elma, out of Levi’s sight, had arched her brows at Hope, jerking her head slightly to the side. Hope had taken the hint and left. But at the bottom of the stairs, she’d removed her shoes and tiptoed back up.

She’d stood there, her ear to the door, hating herself, hating them, but all she’d heard was the sound of their whispers, muffled by the wood.

And then there had been a knock at the door below and she’d hastily run back down to find Peggy admitting Dr. Snedecker, there to check on Elma. She’d taken Peggy up with her to get Elma—as witness, she supposed, although why she should want a witness she wasn’t quite sure.

Hope stared belligerently at her cousin’s lover. “What did thee want with her in the dark with the door locked, Levi?”

Levi ran a hand through his hair, making a bit come free from his queue. He was always doing that. Hope used to find it endearing. And Elma would cluck and tie it back for him. Destroying my handiwork, she’d complain. Why should I care when you’ll only tie it back for me again? he’d tease. And Hope would stand there, a fixed smile on her face, pretending she didn’t feel an awkward third to their banter.

Levi didn’t have Elma to tie back his hair for him anymore. It stuck out in wisps around his face. “It wasn’t—if you had seen, you would know—it wasn’t for courtship, but only for conversation!”

“If it were for conversation, why could thee not converse in the sitting room like any other person in this house? Do thee always lock the door for conversation? Thee didn’t need a closed door to converse with me.”

“For your honor . . .” Levi stammered.

“But not Elma’s? Thee had no care for Elma’s honor?” The color was rising and waning in Levi’s cheeks, as changeable as an autumn leaf. Hope took courage from his discomfiture. “Richard Croucher says he saw thee together—in a way that could not be mistaken. Thou must have forgot to lock the door.”

Levi scowled at her. “Richard Croucher would say anything against me. He holds a grudge.”

“Because he spoke out for Elma? Do I hold a grudge against thee? Does Caty?”

“You didn’t have to be so quick to judge me!”

“So quick? It’s months I’ve watched thee!” Hope wished the words back the moment she said them, but it was too late. In a low voice, she added, “I would have had to be blind not to know what was between thee.”