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She focused so intently on her footing, her eyes staring hard at the ground, that she remained unaware of everything else around her until a deep voice spoke right behind her.
“Miss May?”
Livvy started, stopping in her tracks and whirling around to discover August Moon standing before her, and her heart stuttered.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“A short silence does much improve conversation.”
Gulliver’s Travels, Jonathan Swift
“Mr. Moon,” Livvy greeted, her heart still in her throat.
She hadn’t stopped thinking of August since the night before. Had she caused him to appear due to her unending thoughts? Or had he sought her out because he hadn’t spoken with her enough last night?
Honestly, Livvy. A little humility might do ye good.
“Evenin’, Miss May,” August said, tipping his cap to her. His eyes revealed their characteristic squint as he delivered a half-smile. “What ye be doin’ out in such weather?”
“Oh, just…” She trailed off. She couldn’t very well say that she’d been petting cows. “I just be visitin’ with a few friends.”
His eyes searched hers. Was he considering her words from last night?
She’d been so frazzled, so anxious to share with him what his kindness had meant to her, that she’d been daft enough to reveal more than she’d wanted to at the end of their conversation—specifically her near-slip of admitting that she hadn’t any friends.
What she’d meant to say was that she hadn’t any friends her age, but August could hardly surmise such a fact. Did he notice her contradiction? Or had he simply thought she’d been lying then—or worse, lying now?
Despite the rushing sound of the pouring rain, silence marked the air between them. Livvy shifted her legs anxiously. She needed to explain herself. She didn’t wish for him to think her a tale-maker.
“The Otterhams,” she said. “Those be the friends who I be visitin’.”
He looked down at her in confusion for a moment. “The cow-keepers?”
A twinge of pride poked at her heart. This must be the odd behavior he would finally look down on. But whether she was in love with August or not, she would not be ashamed of her friends, nor would she forget who she was or for what she stood.
“Yes,” she said with a straightened spine. “I visit with ’em at least once a week. They be the finest couple on the Mount.”
His eyes softened. “I be ashamed to say I don’t know ’em well, though I be certain your ’igh praise be warranted.”
She sighed with relief. All was right in the world once again.
That is, until the silence returned between them. This was very strange, indeed. The evening before, August had shifted comfortably from one subject to another, not a single moment of awkwardness occurring. Apart from when she’d seen Father watching them, of course.
She glanced up the pathway from where August had come, half-expecting Father and his all-seeing eyes to appear next, even though she knew he was at home. She’d left him in the sitting room with his pipe and a glass of brandy when she’d first left for the Otterhams at four o’clock.
Perhaps August was quieter than before due to exhaustion from his day of work. The time had to be nearing six o’clock. “Are ye only just now finishin’ your work?” she asked.
August nodded. “I ’ad a few extra tasks to see to ’fore I left.”
Unfortunately, the fact that Father left when there was still work to be done didn’t surprise her. She recalled a time when he’d remained at work until well after dark, simply to keep himself surrounded by plants and flowers and trees. Now, he no longer seemed to enjoy his work—or anything, for that matter. Besides talking about plants, that is.
Still, she worried that he was giving too much responsibility to his undergardeners while not accepting any himself. “I trust me father ’tain’t askin’ too much of ye durin’ your first few weeks at the castle,” she said.
A strange look crossed over August’s features, and his eyebrows raised a fraction, but he quickly shook his head. “No, ’course not. I enjoy bein’ busy. At least when it comes to gardenin’.”
“I be glad.”
Again, silence hung between them. But, why?
