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Yet Mrs. Otterham clearly was—as was Livvy. But what could she do? She couldn’t very well offer a room that wasn’t hers to the Otterhams. But then…there was someone else who could.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

“Absorbed in the single idea of being beloved, her imagination soared into the regions of romantic bliss…”

A Sicilian Romance, Ann Radcliffe

With a concerned look, Livvy peered up at August, but he was already looking at his mother, who seemed to catch on at once. With a twinkle in her eye, she looked to Livvy, nodded, then motioned to the couple.

Livvy breathed a sigh of relief at the woman’s awareness—and her kindness—as well as her son’s.

Livvy faced her friends with a smile. “Mr. Otter’am, Mrs. Otter’am…ye must take our room.”

Instantly the couple protested, but Mrs. Moon stepped in. “No, please, do. It be the least we can do for a fine couple such as yourselves. ’Sides, Mr. Moon and me son’ll be down ’ere anyway. We’ll be more than ’appy to stay with ’em. Won’t we, ladies?”

Emma nodded at once, as did Livvy, though she tried to show less enthusiasm than she felt at the prospect of staying in August’s company all night.

Ophelia and Portia, however, smiled weakly and turned away, no doubt to hide their displeasure.

Again, Mr. Otterham tried to protest, but Mrs. Otterham looked up at her husband. “Oh, Brae, I do think we must accept. It be such a lovely offer. And ye know with your back and me side, we’ll be better off e’en with the inn’s beds.”

Finally, the man relented, though he pulled out payment and insisted the Moons take it.

“Thank ye all,” Mrs. Otterham said. “Ye be too kind.”

After another moment of gratitude expressed, the Otterhams left for their room, and the Moons and their small party remained behind.

“Well, now what are we to do?” Ophelia asked with another huff.

At least she had the decency to remain silent until the couple had gone.

“We do exactly what your father and brother were goin’ to do,” Mrs. Moon said. “Sacrifice for another.”

Portia and Ophelia exchanged glances, clearly sharing each other’s thoughts. Then they looked to Livvy condemningly.

Livvy would not take credit for creating the storm, but she knew it was her fault that the sisters would now have to remain upright on uncomfortable wooden chairs all night in a public room.

Pausing, she pulled on her empathy as she would a pair of gloves, imagining what the sisters would be feeling right now—giving up their beds for practical strangers and giving up their night of fun and dancing with handsome men simply due to an unplanned storm.

Livvy would certainly be more put out if she didn’t have August to salve her disappointment.

Drawing a deep breath, for she knew she could be rejected yet again, she faced the sisters. “I do understand ’ow ye feel,” she said with as much effort as possible. “And I be sorry we gave up the room. But I can’t thank ye enough for doin’ so. Mr. Otter’am would ne’er admit to it, but I know ’is back be painin’ ’im somethin’ fierce. Stayin’ up all night on a chair would ’ardly do ’im well. Ye be fine girls to give up your room for ’im.”

The sisters didn’t speak for a moment, looking at each other awkwardly before nodding. “’Course we be ’appy to ’elp someone so deservin’,” Portia mumbled.

“Indeed,” Ophelia agreed.

“That be me girls,” Mr. Moon said with a grin. “Now let us find a place by the fire.”

The girls sighed, linking their arms on either side of their father before walking forward. Emma fell into step beside Mrs. Moon, leaving August and Livvy at the rear.

Shame.

As they followed the procession, August leaned down to speak with Livvy softly. “It would appear that ye’ve found the way to me sisters’ ’earts.”

She peered up at him, admiring the creases next to his eyes as he smiled. “And what be that, then?”

“Excessive flattery.”