Page 5
Miss May’s crystal blue eyes stared at August with such an intensity, he almost had to look away for a moment, but she averted her gaze first.
“Yes. Yes, I be Miss May.”
Her voice was soft and smooth, like water slipping back into the sea at low tide.
“Ye’ve grown,” he said, though his words came out in a murmur.
Had he meant to speak them aloud? He seemed to have fallen into a sort of daze. Whether that was due to the surprise of finding a woman this beautiful hiding in the bushes or the surprise that Miss May had grown into such a stunning individual, he couldn’t be sure.
“I suppose that be what time does to a person,” she responded.
“Just so.”
Still, he stared. Why did he say nothing more?
“Ye’ve grown yourself,” she said.
Had he? He wasn’t aware that he’d changed at all. Except, perhaps, in maturity. He was no longer chasing after girls on the Mount, trying to untie their bonnet ribbons. Although, he’d be half-tempted to do the same again if Miss May was one of those girls.
He cast his eyes about her face again, still reeling that this was the same girl he’d always seen hiding behind her books or her father.
Her father. The man who just so happened to be August’s superior at the castle gardens. What would Mr. May think of his newly hired member of staff remaining in a secluded bramble of shrubbery with his only daughter?
August cleared his throat. That straightened his mind out. “Although I do ’ave a number o’ questions as to ’ow ye’ve become tangled up in this mess, I assume ye would appreciate escapin’ first from the culprit who ’as managed to capture ye in its grasp?”
Her smooth cheeks tinted pink, and she ducked her head, but not before he caught sight of a small smile. “I’d ’ppreciate it very much, thank ye.”
Together, they worked to break off the branches that had hooked onto the hem of her soft purple skirt and edges of her white spencer—what he’d thought had been a cat’s tail had apparently been her arm flailing about—until finally, they fought their way through the branches and into the sunshine.
Somehow he’d managed to forget about the audience of his friends and sisters awaiting them until that moment.
Emma looked on with mild amusement. Nicholas, too. But Ophelia and Portia—who’d left the window displays to observe their brother’s actions—stared at Miss May with widened eyes.
He glanced down at the woman as she pulled a few branches and leaves from her sleeves and skirt, averting her gaze from the others. Only then did he notice the basket hanging from her left arm, two books poking out of the top of it.
He narrowed his eyes. “Were ye…readin’ in the bushes?”
A noise sounding suspiciously like a laugh came from the group, and he glanced to see Ophelia holding a gloved hand to her mouth, no doubt to stifle her amusement.
August cringed. He hadn’t meant his comment to be taken as teasing or cruelty. He’d meant it in earnest. Had Miss May taken offense?
Unfortunately, she appeared as much, her blush growing a deeper red. She looked back at him—those eyes even bluer in the bright sunshine—then to the crowd gathered.
“No,” she said. The word sounded clipped at the end, as if she wished to say more but couldn’t.
The group waited, Ophelia and Portia exchanging glances with smiles—rather, smirks.
August’s stomach tightened. Why were they behaving in such a way? Could they not see Miss May was uncomfortable? Should they not attempt to help her?
“I be so very glad to see ye out and about, Miss May,” Emma said, stepping forward so the attention shifted to her—blessed woman that she was. “It be a fine day to be doin’ so. We came to the mainland to admire the window displays in such fine weather. Would ye care to join us?”
August didn’t miss Ophelia’s stifled sigh, nor Portia’s lips pulled downward with disappointment. They clearly did not wish for Miss May to join them. But, why?
More importantly, had Miss May noticed their rude behavior?
“Thank ye,” she responded. “But I must be gettin’ back to Father.”
Emma nodded understandingly. “Per’aps next time.”
