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Nicholas hesitated. “We weren’t supposed to share this with anyone. But Emma and I…We plan to leave the Mount.”
August frowned. “What? Ye can’t leave. It be your ’ome, where ye both wish to be.”
“It ’ad been, yes. But we can’t be apart any longer. We’ll be tellin’ our families in the comin’ weeks, and if they don’t accept our love for each other, we’ll be leavin’. Together.”
August couldn’t believe it. And yet, what other choice did his friends have?
“So tell Miss May,” Nicholas said. “There ain’t nothin’ to stop ye now.”
August nodded. His friend was right. Now that Nicholas was secure in his own path, there was nothing to stop August from being truthful with Miss May.
And yet, as laughter and cheers sounded within the assembly hall, signaling the end of another jovial dance, August paused. He didn’t wish to prolong the inevitable in telling Livvy the truth, but she’d appeared so happy, so carefree that evening. Did he truly wish to destroy her mood with talk of his deception?
An image flashed in his mind of her whirling around in her blue gown, and the pathway lit before him, clear and bright.
Never mind Mr. May’s instruction not to dance with her. The man could threaten all he wanted now. He no longer held any power over August. He was finished being Mr. May’s pawn. He was ready to reveal to the world how he truly felt about the woman.
And there was only one way to discover if she felt the same way about him.
“Excuse me, Nicholas,” he said, turning to the doorway of the dance hall, music and light pouring forth like a beacon. “I’ve somewhere I need to be.”
He caught his friend’s grin as he turned, but only one thing—one person—was now on his mind.
Miss Livvy May.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love.”
Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen
Livvy stood next to Mrs. Moon and Emma as they spoke of the rain pelting against the windows of the dance hall ever harder.
“That storm blew in quickly,” Mrs. Moon said, her brow wrinkling. “Shame. It ’ad been such a beautiful evenin’.”
Livvy nodded, pretending to agree as she held her tongue instead of saying what she wished to—“The rain can be beautiful, too.”
The conversation continued, though Livvy’s eyes wandered about the room at the sconces brightening the hall, candlelight glistening against sweating brows and shimmering ribbons. Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time. Even Emma’s spirits had improved since her dance with Mr. Cuff.
If only Livvy could feel that same delight. There was no reason not to, what with the number of men who’d been introduced to her that night.
Oddly enough, all of them had been mainlanders, aside from Mr. Cuff. Her father would certainly be pleased to hear such a thing—that not all of Cornwall thought her to be too odd to be acquainted with—but Livvy couldn’t help but be suspicious of the fact that so many men wished to dance with her. Mrs. Moon no doubt had something to do with the introductions. She was grateful for the woman, but all Livvy wanted to say was, “Can ye not get your son to do the same, per’aps?”
Thunder clapped outside above the noise of the musicians and chatter of the crowds, and a few gasps sounded as eyes raised to the windows and doors, the noise rattling glass and fixtures.
Livvy looked as another flash of lightning lit the night sky, the warped windowpanes streaked with trails of never-ending rain as bright as the sun for a brief moment.
Heavens, the storm had gotten worse. It would certainly make for an adventurous boat ride back to the Mount.
Her eyes fell upon the dancers again lining up in their sets, this song being the first of the evening that she would have a moment to rest. Each couple had seemingly forgotten about the storm already, their laughter picking back up as the musicians took a moment to retune their instruments.
As the sets straightened out, Livvy’s eyes reached the end of one, and her heart stopped beating.
There, at the end of the dance hall, with his eyes focused solely on her, stood August. He remained still, watching her, his chest rising and falling slowly as he drew measured breaths, then he moved forward in her direction.
The blood rushed from her head, and she turned away, fearing she had imagined the look of determination crossing his handsome features, but when she returned her gaze to him, his eyes still upon her as he weaved in and out of the crowd, she knew he was coming for her.
But to what end? To speak? To dance? To tell her…