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Annie sighed, knowing it should be from relief, yet she felt her heart beat a little harder regardless, disappointed he had not considered flirting with her before.
He only danced with me to be polite. It was nothing more than that.
When the carriage came to a stop, Barbara descended first. Despite her unhappy manner in the carriage, she pinned a false smile in place to be seen by the staff. Annie followed behind her, though she found the false smile a little too difficult to accomplish tonight.
She hastened up the steps of the townhouse into the body of the building, moving through the door where the housekeeper awaited them, offering to arrange warming drinks for them as they were home. As Barbara talked to the housekeeper, accepting such an offer, Annie looked through the candlelight at a painting on the wall beside their front door.
It was of her late father, almost life-size. He was tall, much taller than her, with the same dark blond hair that was her own. In the painting, he was smiling at her, as he had always done in life. There was no falseness in his smile, no performance either. It was all genuine.
I miss you, father.
“Dear, how about that drink?” Barbara called.
“Yes, Mama.” Annie turned away from the painting, glancing back at it more than once as she wondered what her father would have said if he could have been there this evening.
